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feituitt JS-mmtani? :

INCLUDING

ORATORS, STATESMEN, NAVAL AND MILITARY HEROES,
JURISTS, AUTHORS, ETC., ETC.,
|rom #rinhal full ifntjjtfj gainings b£
ALONZO CHAP PEL.
WITH
BIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL NARRATIVES
BY
EVERT A. DUYCKINCK,
EDITOR OF " OTCLOFJIDU Or AMERICAN LITERATURE," RGL
IN TWO VOLUMES.— VOL. IL

NEW YOEK:
JOHNSON, FRY & COMPANY,
87 BEEKMAN STREET.

Enter ;d, according to Act of Congrew, by
JOHNSON FRY & CO.,
ttw Clerk's Office of the District Court of the TTnited States for U>e Southern District
of Hew York

CONTENTS.

VOLUME TWO.

BIO GR APHIE S. Pagh
LXXIII.— JOHN QUINCY ADAMS,  5
LXXIV.— DAVID PORTER  18
LXXV.— JOHN JACOB ASTOR,  30
LXX VI.- JAMES KENT,  39
LXXVIL— JOHN JAMES AUDUBON,  47
LXXVIII.— DEWITT CLINTON,  \  55
LXXIX.— OLIVER HAZARD PERRY  03
LXXX.— JAMES LAWRENCE,. ."  7-1
LXXXL— THOMAS MACDONQUGH,  -.  82
LXXXII.— JOHN RANDOLPH,  88
LXXXIII.— WASHINGTON IRVING  99
LXXXIV.— ABBOTT LAWRENCE  110
LXXXV.— ANDREW JACKSON  11G
LXXXVI.— HENRY CLAY  144
LXXXVIL— JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN,  162
[/XXXVIII-DANIEL WEBSTER  173
LXXXIX.— THOMAS. HART BENTON,  190
XC— JAMES FENIMORE COOPER,  199
XCI.— WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON  211
XCII.-WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT,  221
XCIII.— ZACHARY TAYLOR,  231
XCIV.- JAMES KNOX POLK,  247
XCV.— RUFUS CHOATE,  253
XCVI.-JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN  264
XCVIL— STEPHEN ARNOLD DOUGLAS,  273
XCVIIT.-JOHN J. CRITTENDEN,  277
XCIX.— WILLIAM HENRY SEWARD,  280
C.-ELISHA KENT KANE,  '.  284
CI.— .CHARLES WILKES  '.  298
CII.— WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH  301
CIIL— EDWIN VOSE SUMNER  308
CIV. -MARTIN VAN BUREN  310
CV.-SALMON PORTLAND CHASE,  320
CVI.-JOHN TYLER,  322
CVIL— JOHN CHARLES FREMONT,  329
CVIIL— FRANKLIN PIERCE  333
CIX.— ANDREW HULL FOOTE,  340
CX. -JAMES BUCHANAN  343
CXI.-MILLARD FILLMORE,  847
CXIL— NATHANIEL LYON,. .'....¦  851

CONTENTS.

l'AOB
CXIII. -LEWIS CASS,  355
cxiv.— ormsby Mcknight mitchel,  362
CXV.— JOHN E. WOOL,  '.  366
CXVI.— ABRAHAM LINCOLN,  373
CXV1L— WINFIELD SCOTT,  376
CXVIII.— GEORGE BANCROFT,  ., ¦ • ¦ • 396
CXIX-EDWARD EVERETT,  400
CXX.— GEORGE BRINTON McCLELLAN,  408
CXXI.-HENRY WAGER HALLECK  412
CXXIL— AMBROSE EVERETT BURNSIDE  416
CXXIII.— JOSEPH HOOKER,  419
CXXIV. -BENJAMIN F. BUTLER,  423
CXXV.-JAMES SHIELDS,  428
CXXVL— THOMAS FRANCIS DUPONT,  432
CXXVIL— DAVIE GLASCOE FARRAGUT,  ;  ,  436
CXXVIII.— DAVID D. PORTER,  -.  440
CXXIX.— HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW  444
CXXX.— WILLIAM STARKE ROSECRANS,  451
CXXXI.— ULYSSES S. GRANT  456
CXXXII.— NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS  459
¦ CXXXIII.— ANDREW JOHNSON,  462
CXXXIV.— WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT,  464
CXXXV.— THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON,  471
CXXXVL— ROBERT EDWARD LEE,  v  487
CXXXVII.— JOSEPH EGGLE8T0N JOHNSTON,  496
CXXX VIII. -JEFFERSON DAVIS  500
CXXXIX.— WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN  503
CXL.— CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS,  '.  521
CXLI.— SAMUEL FINLEY BREESE MORSE,  528
CXLII.— VALENTINE MOTT  535
CXLIII.— GEORGE STONEMAN,  544
CXLIV.^-WINFIELD SCOTT HANCOCK  '.  543
.CXLV. -JAMES SAMUEL WADSWORTH,  552
CXLVI.— JOHN SEDGWICK,  550
CXL VII.— QUINCE Y ADAMS GILMORE,  563
CXLVIIL— PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN,  57!
CXLIX.-JOHN ALEXANDER LOGAN,...  681
CL.— JAMES BIRDSEYE McPHERSON,  ,  585
CLI.-SCHUYLER COLFAX  £9S

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

We have already traced the lineage
of John Quincy Adams. He comes
nobly heralded upon the scene of our
Revolutionary annals. His stirring re
lative, the zealous and always consist
ent Samuel Adams, the very front and
seed-plot of obstinate rebellion, had
taught the mechanics of Boston to
resist, and his eloquence had reached
the ears of men of influence throughout
the colony and nation. His father,
John Adams, thirty-two years old at
the time of his birth, deeply grounded
in the history of constitutional liberty
and with the generous flame of freedom
burning brightly in his bosom from
boyhood, was already prepared for that
warm, enlightened, steady career of
patriotism — never swerving, always
true to his land— which bore him aloft,
the chosen representative of New Eng
land to the Congress of his country,
and ultimately to her highest authority ;
while the nation in turn adopted him
her express image in the important ne
gotiations at three of the great courts
of Europe. ¦
Nor should we forget the tender,
heroic mother, the child of sensibility
and genius, hardened into the maturity
and perfection of the female character
by the fire of the Eevolution, the gen
tle Abigail, in whose fair friendship
n.— 1

and sympathies and feminine graceful
ness posterity has an ever-living parti
cipation through the delightful pages
of her " Correspondence."
Of that family, in a house adjoining
the old paternal Braintree home, in the
present town of Quincy, at this immi
nent moment of the Eevolution, John
Quincy Adams, the eldest son, was
born July 11, 1767. He derived his
baptismal name from his great-grand
father, John Quincy, the time-honored
representative of Quincy in the Colo
nial Legislature. The name was given
by his grandmother, as her husband
was dying. The incident was not for
gotten by the man. He recurred to it
with emotion, fortified by a sense of
duty. In a sentence cited by his recent
biographer, the venerable Josiah Quin
cy, he says : " This fact, recorded by
my father at the time, is not without a
moral to my heart, and has connected
with that portion of my name a charm
of mingled sensibility and devotion.
It was filial tenderness that gave the
name — it was the name of one passing
from earth to immortality. These have
been through life, perpetual admoni
tions to do nothing unworthy of it."
It is interesting to trace the progress
of the child in his mother's correspond
ence, from the infant lullaby which she

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

prattles to her husband, when "our
daughter rocks him to sleep with the
song, ' Come, papa, come home to bro
ther Johnny.' The boy has just en
tered his eighth year, and his father is
on his way to the Continental Congress
at Philadelphia, when she writes : " I
have taken a very great fondness for
reading Eollin's 'Ancient History,'
since you left me. I am determined to
go through with it if possible, in these
my days of solitude. I find great plea
sure and entertainment from it, and I
have persuaded Johnny to read me a
page or two every day, and hope he
will, from his desire to oblige me, en
tertain a fondness for it." The child
had some instruction at the village
school, but he was especially taught by
his father's law students, in the house.
As the pressure of war increases, this
resource is broken up. The anxious
moiher writes, " I feel somewhat lonely.
Mr. Thaxter is gone home. Mr. Eice
is going into the army as captain of a
company. We have no school. I
know not what to do with John." In
the summer of this year, 1775, " stand-
iL£," we are told, " with her on the
summit of Penn's Hill, he heard the
cannon booming from the battle of
Bunker's Hill, and saw the flames and
smoke of burning Charlestown. Dur
ing the siege of Boston he often climbed
the same eminence alone, to watch the
shells and rockets thrown by the Ame
rican army." 1 A letter from the boy
himself, two years later, then at the age
of ten, exhibits his youthful precocity.
" I love," he writes to his father, " to
1 Quincy's Memoir, p. S.

receive letters very well — much better
than I love to write them. I make but
a poor figure at composition ; my head
is much too fickle. My thoughts are
running after birds' eggs, play and tri
fi.es, till I get vexed with myself. Mam
ma has a troublesome task to keep me
steady, and I own I am ashamed of
myself. I have but just entered the.
third volume of Smollett, though I had
designed to have got half through it
by this time. I have determined this
week to be more diligent, as Mr. Thax
ter will be absent at court, and I can
not pursue my other studies. I have
set myself a stint, and determined to
read the third volume half out." He
asks for directions to proportion his
time between play and writing, and in
a postscript says, " Sir, if you will be
so good as to favor me with a blank
book, I will transcribe the most remark
able occurrences I meet with in my
reading, which will serve to fix them
upon my mind." 1
In this letter we may read the aged
man backward, from his steadfast,
methodical desk in the House of
Eepresentatives, to the little boy at
his mother's side in Braintree. The
"childhood shows the man as morn'
ing shows the day." He was an old
fashioned, studious youth, nurtured
amidst grave scenes of duty, early in
harness, a resolute worker from his cra
dle to his grave.
The next year the boy is taken with
his father, on board the frigate Boston,
on his first mission to France ; followed,
in her first letter after the separation,
1 This letter nppeirs from the manuscript in Mr. Ed
¦ward Era-ett's eloquent Faneuil Hall eulogy on Adams.

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

by this noble injunction of the mother :
" Enjoin it upon him never to disgrace
his mother, and to behave worthily of
his father." The boy is a little man on
the voyage, securing the favor of the
French gentlemen on board, who teach
him their language. In a perilous
storm which arose, his father records
his inexpressible satisfaction at his be
havior, " bearing it with a manly pa
tience, very attentive to me, and his
thoughts constantly running in a serious
strain." When they arrive in France,
and take up their lodgings with Ben
jamin Franklin at Passy, he is put to
school with the sage's grandson, Benja
min Franklin Bache, in the neighbor
hood. At the close of this short sojourn
abroad, his father sums up his advan
tages : " My son has had a great oppor
tunity to see this country ; but this has
unavoidably retarded his education in
some other things. He has enjoyed
perfect health from first to last, and is
respected wherever he goes for his
vigor and vivacity, both of mind and
body, for his constant good humor and
for his rapid progress in French as well
as his general knowledge, which, for
his age, is uncommon." * On the return
voyage, in the Sensible, the Chevalier
de la Luzerne, the minister to the Unit
ed States, and his secretary; M. Marbois,
" are in raptures with my son. They
get him to teach them the language. I
found, this morning, the ambassador
seated on the cushion in our state-room,
M. Marbois in his cot, at his left hand,
and my son stretched out in his, at his
right; the ambassador reading out
' Letters of John Adams to his wife, II. 64.

loud in Blackstone's Discourse at his en-
trance on his professorship of the com
mon law at the University, and my son
correcting the pronunciation of every
word and syllable and letter." 1
In November, father and son are at
sea again in the Sensible, on their re
turn to France. This time they are
landed in Grallicia, and pursue their
way through the northern provinces of
Spain to the French frontier. When
the boy's Diary shall be published,
that gigantic work which we are told
he commenced on this second voyage,
and continued, with few interruptions,
through life, the world will doubtless
get some picturesque notices of these
foreign scenes, so happily sketched in
his father's note-book. The boy was
again at school in France, and on his
father's mission to Amsterdam, in the
summer, was placed with an instructor
under the wing of the venerable uni
versity of Leyden, where in January,
1781, with Franklin's correspondent,
Benjamin Waterhouse, then a student
of medicine, he went before the Eector
Magnificus and was duly matriculated.
His father's object in taking him to
Leyden was to escape "the mean-spirit
ed wretches," as he describes them, the
teachers of the public schools at Am
sterdam. The youth, however, was not long at
the University. His father's secretary
Francis Dana, having received the ap
pointment of minister to St. Petersburg,
in July, took the boy of fourteen with
him as his secretary. "In this capa-
city," says Mr. Everett, " he was recog-

1 John Adams' Sea Diary, June 19, 1779.
III. 214.

Works,

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS

nized by Congress ; and there is, per.
haps, no other case of a person so young
being employed in a civil office of trust,
under the government of the United
States. But in Mr. Adams' career
there was no boyhood." His know
ledge of French, indeed, appears to
have been of real service in interpret
ing between his chief and the French
minister, the Marquis de Verac, with
whom the negotiations were conducted
at the Eussian capital. In the autumn
of the succeeding year he left St. Peters
burg for a winter in Stockholm, and in
the spring travelled alone through
Sweden, Denmark and Germany to the
Hague, where in May, 1773, we hear
of him in his father's correspondence,
as again "pursuing his studies with
great ardor." He was present with his
father at the concluding peace negotia
tions at Paris, where he witnessed the
signing of the memorable final treaty.
The greater part of the next two years
was passed in London and Paris, where
he had now the society of his mother.
He is still the same vigilant student,
while he assists his father as his secre
tary. " He is a noble fellow," writes
John Adams from. Auteuil to Francis
Dana at the close of 1784, " and will
make a good Greek or Eoman, I hope,
for he spends his whole time in their
company, when he is not writing for

me.

111

When his father was appointed the
first minister plenipotentiary to Eng
land, it was but natural to suppose that
the secretary who had shared his hum
bler labors would have desired to par
ticipate in the full-blown honors of the
1 John Adams' Works, IX. 027.

royal court. There is not one youth in
a thousand who would have resisted
the temptation. For what does John
Quincy Adams, at the age of eighteen,
after his responsible duties in Bussia,
his independent sojourn in Stockholm,
and intercourse with the brilliant Ame
rican circles in Paris, with Franklin at
the centre, exchange the splendid pro
spect of life in the British metropolis ?
For the leading-strings and restraints
of Harvard, and a toilsome pupilage at
the bar. The choice between inclina
tion and duty never wa3 more tempt
ingly presented. His own expression
of the resolve is too memorable to be
omitted. " I have been seven years
travelling in Europe," he writes, " see
ing the world and in its society. If I
return to the United States, I must be
subject, one or two years, to the rules
of a college, pass three more in the
tedious study of the law, before I can
hope to bring myself into piofessional
notice. The prospect is discouraging
If I accompany my father to London,
my satisfaction would probably be
greater than by returning to the United
States ; but I shall loiter away my pre
cious time, and not go home until I am
forced to it. My father has been all
his lifetime occupied by the interests
of the public. His own fortune has
suffered. His children must provide
for themselves. I am determined to
get my own living, and to be depend
ent upon no one. With a tolerable
share of common sense, I hope in Ame
rica to be independent and free. Ba
ther than live otherwise, I would wish
to die before my time." a

1 Quincy's Memoir, p. 6.

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

With this creditable, resolve he bore
with him from his father a letter to
Benjamin Waterhouse, touching his ex
amination at Harvard. The solicitous
parent, who had read some of the
classics with his son, and forsaking the
card-table, attempted even an introduc
tion to the higher mathematics, in
which he failed, candidly admitting
that these abstruse studies had quite
departed from him in thirty years' ut
ter unconsciousness of them, is anxious
to impress upon his friend those gene
ral acquisitions which might be ob
scured at an examination for want of
some of the technicalities of instruction.
Thus, while he had steadily pursued
his studies, and made written transla
tions of the iEneid, Suetonius,. Sallust,
Tacitus' Agricola and Germany, and
portions of the Annals, with a good
part of Horace, he might be defective
in quantities and parsing. Harvard,
however, was not likely to be too inex
orable in her demands ; nor was the
pupil likely to fall short of them. Af
ter a few months' reading with the
Eev. Mr. Shaw of Haverhill, he was
admitted to the junior class in March,
1786, and continuing in the University
long enough to leave a fragrant memo
ry of his scholarship and good princi
ples, received his degree the following
year. His commencement oration,
which was published, was on " The Im
portance and Necessity of Public Faith
to the Well-being of a Community."
He now engaged in a three years'
course of the study of the law, with
Theophilus Parsons, at Newburyport,
in which he must have heard much
from his vigorous:minded preceptor,

who afterwards became chief justice of
the State, of the struggle then going on
for the adoption of the Constitution.
Adams was admitted to the bar in
1790, and at once, as he long afterwards
expressed it, " commenced^ what I can
hardly call the practice of the law in
the citv of Boston." For the first three
years he had the usual opportunity of
young lawyers for further study ; and
unlike many of them, he availed him
self of it. A portion of his leisure was
spent in the discussion of the impor
tant political questions of the day. He
answered the plausible sophistries on
government, of . Paine' s " Eights of Man,"
in a series of essays published in Bus-
sell's ., " Columbian Centinel,''' signed
Publicola ; and in 1793, in the same
journal,, urged neutrality upon the
country in the contest between Eng
land and France, and attacked the in
solent Genet in terms of wholesome
indignation. This service, and doubt
less his father's great successes in Hol
land, led Washington's administration
to appoint him, in 1794, minister to the
Netherlands. His acceptance of this
honorable position was at the cost of a
rapidly developing legal practice. Ar
riving in London in time to confer
with Jay, whose British treaty was
then getting adjusted, he reached Hol
land in season to witness the occupa
tion of the country by the French pro
pagandists. He remained at the Hague,
availing himself of the opportunities
and leisure of the place to add to those
stores of knowledge already consider
able, which he had accumulated, with
the exception of a few months passed
in diplomatic business in England till

10

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

the summer of 1797, when he received
the appointment of minister to Portu
gal. On his father's occupancy of the
Presidency this was changed to the
mission to Berlin. Before proceeding
to his new post he passed over to Eng
land to claim the hand of a lady to
whom he had become engaged on a
formei visit, Miss Louisa Catharine
Johnson, the daughter of the American
consul at London.
Adams felt at first a natural reluc
tance to accept an important office at
the hands of his father ; but his inde
pendence was reconciled to the step
when he learned that it had been urged
by Washington himself, who considered
him fully entitled by his previous ser
vices, to diplomatic promotion. He
now took up his residence at Berlin.
He was engaged in this mission to the
close of his father's administration.
During this time he negotiated a treaty
of commerce with Prussia, and in the
summer of 1800 made a considerable
tour in Silesia. A number of letters'
addressed to his brother in America,
descriptive of this country, were pub
lished without his advice in the " Port
Folio," and a few years after were
issued in a volume by a London pub
lisher. In this collection they form a
methodically written work, descriptive
of the industiy and resources of an in
teresting country with a comprehensive
account of its history and geography.
Adams also, during his residence at
Berlin, employed himself in several
literary compositions, of which the most
important was a poetical version of
Wieland's " Oberon." He intended
this for publication, but found that

Sotheby, the English translator, had
anticipated him. Several satires of
Juvenal were also among his transla
tions. He moreover prepared for pub
lication in America, a treatise of Frede
rick de Gentz, " On the Origin and
Principles of the American Eevolution,"
which interested him by its apprecia
tion of American principles of liberty,
as contradistinguished from the license
of the French Eevolution.
On his return to Boston, he turned
his attention again to the study and re
sumed the practice of the law. He was
not, however, suffered to remain long
free from official employment. A few
months after his arrival he was called
to the Senate of Massachusetts, and
almost immediately chosen to the Sen
ate of the United States. It was at
that period of the disintegration of the
federal party when the old order of
things was fast going out, and the new
was not fully established. Adams,
who was always inclined to think for
himself, chose an independent position.
In some things, as the constitutionality
of taking possession of Louisiana, in
the way in which it was done, he op
posed the administration ; in voting for
the appropriation of the purchase mo
ney, he was with it. When the promi
nent measures of Jefferson's administra
tion in reference to England began to
take shape in the Embargo, he was at
variance with his colleague, Mr. Pick
ering. He was of opinion that submis
sion to British aggression was no
longer a virtue. His course, which was
considered a renunciation of federalism,
created a storm in Massachusetts, where
the legislature, in anticipation of the

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

11

usual period, elected a successor to his
senatorial term. Upon this censure he
immediately resigned.
His retirement was characteristic
enough. He had been some time be
fore, in 1805, chosen professor of rhet
oric and oratory on 'the Boylston foun
dation at Harvard, and had delivered
his Inaugural the following year. The
preparation of these lectures, in the de
livery of which he now continued to be
employed, called for fresh classical stu
dies ; but to study he was never averse,
and it is the memorable lesson of his
career, that the pursuits of literature
are not only the ornament of political
life, but the best safeguards of the per
sonal dignity of the politician, when, as
must sometimes happen with an inde
pendent man, he is temporarily thrown
out of office by party distractions. If
he is then found, as Adams always was,
making new acquisitions of learning,
and preparing anew for public useful
ness, he must and will be respected,
whichever way the popular favor of the
moment may blow. Mr. Adams con
tinued his duties at Harvard, reading
lectures and presiding over the exer
cises in elocution till the summer of
1809. In the following year, his " Lec
tures on Oratory, delivered to the Sen
ior and Junior Sophisters in Harvard
University," were published at Cam
bridge. Mr. Edward Everett, who was
at the time one of the younger students,
bears witness to the interest with
which these discourses were received,
not merely by the collegians but by
various voluntary listeners from the
neighborhood. " They formed," he
says, " an era in the University, and

were," he thinks, " the first successful
attempt in the country at this form of
instruction in any department of litera
ture." Immediately upon the entrance of
Madison upon the Presidency, Adams
received the appointment of minister
to Eussia, the court which he had ap
proached, in his boyish secretaryship,
during the Eevolution, with Dana. He
sailed from Boston early in August,
1809, in a merchant ship, for St. Peters
burg ; but from various detentions, a
rough passage, and the vexatious exam
inations of the British cruisers in the
Baltic, then blockading Denmark, he
did not arrive in Eussia till October.
The commercial embarrassments, in the
complicated relations of the great Na
poleonic wars of the time, witnessed
on the voyage, in the detention and
oppression of American ships, furnished
his chief diplomatic business at the
imperial court. As much as any man,
perhaps, he aided in solving these
international difficulties. He had a
cordial reception at court on his first
arrival, and as time wore on, having
prepared the way by his- interviews
with Count Eomanzoff, the chancellor
of the empire, received a proffer of
mediation from the Emperor Alexan
der, between Great Britain and the
United States, in the war which had
now broken out. The offer was ac
cepted at home, and in the summer of
1813, he was joined at St. Petersburg
by his fellow commissioners, Bayard
and Gallatin, appointed for the negotia
tion. The mediation was not, however,
accepted by Great Britain though it
proved a step forward to the final con-

12

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

ferences and adjustment at Ghent,
England, proposed to treat directly at
Gottenburg or London. The American
government chose the former, and
Adams was placed on the commission
with Bayard, Clay, Eussell and Galla
tin, to negotiate. Before his arrival on
the spot, he learnt that the conference
was appointed at Ghent, whither he
proceeded in the summer of 1814 ; and,
after a protracted round of diplomacy,
had the satisfaction of signing the
Treaty of Peace the day before Christ
mas of that year. The scene of this
event in that region which had wit
nessed his father's successes, and his
early entrance upon the world, and
above all, the event itself closing the
gates of war, as his father again had
signed the great pacification of 1783,
must have been peculiarly gratifying,
not merely to his patriotic pride, but
to the love of method which character
ized his life. He may readily have
recognized in it that courteous fate
which so often marked the career of
his family. B: there is a political as
well as a poetical justice, it was cer
tainly exhibited in the history of John
Quincy Adams, and his illustrious
father. The coincidences are most
striking. Adams having now closed his mis
sion to St. Petersburg, and having been
appointed minister to Great Britain,
was joined by his family from Eussia,
in Paris, where he witnessed the return
of Napoleon from Elba, and the com
mencement of the Hundred Days. It
was one of those dramatic surprises of
Parisian life, which we may expect to
b« faithfully represented in Mr. Adams'

Diary, when it shall be given to the
world. We get, perhaps, a glimpse of
his record in his biographer, Mr. Quin-
cy's narrative. Napoleon, we are told,
" alighted so silently, that Mr. Adams,
who was at the Theatre Francais, not
a quarter of a mile distant, was una
ware of the fact till the next day, when
the gazettes of Paris, which had show
ered execrations upon him, announced
' the arrival of his majesty, the empe
ror, at his palace of the Tuileries.' In
the Place du Carousel, Mr. Adams, in
his morning walk, saw regiments of
cavalry belonging to the garrison of
Paris, which had been sent out to
oppose Napoleon, pass in review before
him, their helmets and the clasps of
their belts yet glowing with the arms
of the Bourbons. The theatres assumed
the title of Imperial, and at the opera
in the evening, the arms of the Empe
ror were placed on the curtain, and on
the royal box."
Adams, again respecting his father's
precedents, took up his residence with
his family in London. He was the
American representative at the court
of St. James for two years, when he
was called by President Monroe to his
cabinet as Secretary of State. His
time in England was passed in the best
society of books, things and men.
After concluding the commercial rela
tions of the treaty, he removed from
London to a retired residence, at Bos
ton House, Ealing, nine miles distant,
where he found time — he could always
make time — for his liberal studies.
The year 1817 saw him again in
America, at Washington, the leading
member of the new administration, in

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

13

the direct line of promotion to the
Presidency. Old party lines were be
coming, or had already become extinct.
It was a perioa of fusion, " an era of
good feeling," as it came to be called
on the quiet reelection of Monroe.
The chief diplomatic measures of
Adams' secretaryship, had reference to
Spain. He was always spirited in his
assertions of the foreign policy of the
country, and on this occasion was
greatly instrumental in the negotiations
which ended in the cession of Florida.
One of his special services was the pre
paration of an elaborate Eeport on
Weights and Measures, at the call of
Congress. He devoted six months of
continuous labor to this production,
entering into the subject philosophi
cally, and in its historical and practical
relations. The report was made to
Congress in February, 1821.
Adams continued to hold his secre
taryship through both terms of Mon
roe's administration. At its close, he
was chosen by the House of Eepresen-
tatives his successor in the Presidency,
the vote being divided between Jack
son, himself, Crawford and Clay, who
decided the choice by throwing the
vote of Kentucky in his favor. His
administration, says Mr. Everett, in the
address already cited, "was, in its prin
ciples and policy, a continuation of
Mr. Monroe's. The special object which
he proposed to himself was to bind the
distant parts of the country together,
and promote their mutual prosperity
by increased facilities of communica
tion." There were many elements of
opposition at work against a reelection,
in the complicated struggles of the
n.— 2

times. Adams encountered a full mea
sure of unpopularity and retired — in
political disaster, as well as in diplo
matic triumph, like his father — to the
shades of Quincy — that long retire
ment which had only recently ended in
death. The departure from the world
of the elder Adams, occurred in the
second year of his son's Presidency.
Unlike the father, however, he was
not to sit brooding over the past.
Work, persistent work, was the secret
of John Quincy Adams' life. Of a
tough mental fibre, there was no such
thing as defeat, while he had a mind
to contrive, a tongue to utter, or a hand
to hold the pen. He was sixty-two at
his retirement from the Presidency,
within a few years of the age when his
father was succeeded by Jefferson.
Both felt the storm of unprecedented
party spirit and annoyance, and both
yielded to great popular heroes.
Literature again offered her hand to
her assiduous son. " His active, ener
getic spirit," we are told, " required
neither indulgence nor rest, and he
immediately directed his attention to
those philosophical, literary and reli
gious researches, in which he took un
ceasing delight. The works of Cicero
became the object of study, analysis
and criticism. Commentaries on that
master-mind of antiquity were among
his daily labors. The translation of
the Psalms of David into English verse
was a frequent exercise ; and his study
of the Scriptures was accompanied by
critical remarks, pursued in the spirit
of free inquiry, chastened by a solemn
reference to their origin and influence
on the conduct and . hopes of human

14

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

life. His favorite science, astronomy,
led to the frequent observation of the
planets and stars; and his attention
was also called to agriculture and hor
ticulture. He collected and planted
the seeds of forest trees, and kept a
record of their development; and, in
the summer season, labored two or
three hours daily in his garden. With
these pursuits were combined sketches
preparatory to a full biography of his
father, which he then contemplated as
one of his chief future employments."1
He was, however, again soon called
into action, being elected, in November,
1830, by his district, to the House of
Eepresentatives. It was a novel spec
tacle — an ex-president of the United
States sitting in the lower house, but
it was fully in accordance with the
spirit of our institutions, which honor
all faithful servants of the public.
Nor is it to be denied that at least
equal talent may be called for, and
equal influence exerted in the discharge
of duties of public life, which to the
eye of the world have a comparative
inferiority of position. Power may be
wielded by a representative which may
govern the administration itself. There
are many acts of our legislative bodies
more potential than the simple acquies
cence of the Executive ; as the origina
tor of a measure or line of policy must
be of more consequence than the instru
ment which gives it effect. For more
than sixteen years Adams labored at
his seat in the House. He was the
most punctual man of the assembly,
always on the alert ; cool, resolute, even
Josiah Quincy'-B Biography, p. 176-6.

pugnacious. There was scarcely a ques
tion, involving a point Of morality, of
national honor, or of literary and philo
sophical culture, on which his voice
was not heard. He supported the de
mands of Jackson upon France ; he
asserted and successfully maintained the
right of petition against vast obloquy
and opposition; he was especially in
strumental in the establishment of the
National Observatory, and the Smithso
nian Institution. A bare enumeration
of his speeches, writings and addresses,
would fill the space assigned to this
sketch — lectures and addresses on
points of law, government, history,
biography and science, moral and
social, local and national, before sena
tors and before youths, on anniversa
ries of towns, on eras of the State,
eulogies on the illustrious dead, on
Madison, Monroe, Lafayette, the oration
at the Jubilee of the Constitution.
As he had lived, so he died in har
ness. Death found him where he could
have wished its approach, in the halls
of Congress. His robust powers of
body and mind had held out surpris
ingly, as his vigor, no less than his
venerable appearance in the House,
enforced an authority not always read
ily conceded to the persistence in
unpopular appeals of "the old man
eloquent." He was approaching eighty :
still in the exercise of his extraordinary
faculties, when, in a recess of Congress,
walking in the streets of Boston, in
November, 1846, he was stricken by
paralysis, from which, nevertheless, he
recovered in time to take his seat in
Congress early in the year. The House
rose to greet him, and he was conducted

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS

15

to his chair with marked honors. He
felt, however, his approach to the
grave. There is a most touching evi
dence of this in the anecdote related
by Mr. Everett. His journal, the diary
of his long' life, interrupted the day of
his attack, was resumed after an inter
val of nearly four months, with the
title, " Posthumous Memoir." Writing
in its now darkened pages, he says of
the day when it was interrupted,
" From that hour I date my decease,
and consider myself, for every useful
purpose to myself and fellow creatures,
dead, and hence I call this, and what
I may hereafter write, a posthumous

memoir.

He continued in the House another
year, when the final messenger came,
on Monday morning, the twenty-first
of February, 1848. After passing a
Sunday in harmony with his elevated
religious-life, he was observed to ascend
the steps of the Capitol with his accus
tomed alacrity. As he rose, with a
paper in his hand, to address the
Speaker in the House, he was seized
by a return of paralysis, and fell,
uttering, " this is the last of earth —
I am content." He was taken, as
the House adjourned, to an adja
cent room, where he lingered over
Washington's birthday till the twenty-

third, when he died in the speaker's
apartment, under the roof of the Cap
itol. His remains were taken to Bos
ton, reposed in state in old Faneuil
Hall, and were quietly laid by the
side of his parents, in a grave at
Quincy. The lesson of such a life is plain.
Labor, conscientiousness, religious duty;
talent borne out to its utmost stretch
of performance by the industrious im
provement of every opportunity; the
self-rewarding pursuits of letters and
science, in the gratification of an insa
tiable desire for knowledge ; a constant
invigoration of the moral powers by
the strenuous discharge of duty ; inde
pendence bought by self-denial and
prudence, enjoying its wealth — the
calm temper, the untroubled life — in
the very means of acquiring it. How
noble an illustration of the powers of
life ! When the correspondence and Di
ary, which Adams maintained through
his long life, shall be published — when
his writings shall be collected from the
stray sheets in which they have been
given to the winds, when the literary
aids, due to his memory, shall be
gathered in the library about his fair
fame, there will be seen an enduring
monument of a most honorable life of
public service and mental activity.

DAVID PORTER.

This adventurous hero, the "Paul
Jones of the second war of Indepen
dence, with a more capacious and bet
ter regulated mind," was born in Bos
ton, February 1, 1780. His father,
Captain David Porter, commanded a
merchant ship out of that port, and
was distinguished as an officer of ener
gy and activity in the naval service of
the Eevolutionary war. At the con
clusion of the struggle the family re
moved to Baltimore, where the father
commanded a revenue cutter, and be
came engaged in the West India trade.
It was in one of these latter voyages
that his son, at the age of sixteen, was
introduced to the service of the ocean.
Thus launched on the deep, a youth
of courage and mettle, he made the
element his home, and speedily famil
iarized himself with its scenes of peril
and warfare. It was at that unsettled
period of our foreign relations, when
our shipping was oppressed alike by
our old enemy, England, and our recent
ally, France. Aggression was rife on
all sides. On this first voyage, young
Porter was witness to one of those in
sults and assaults. While in port at
the island of St. Domingo, a press gang
endeavored to board his father's vessel.
The assailants were manfully resisted,
with slaughter on both sides. A man

was shot down by the side of the youth.
Such was his introduction to the mer
cantile service in 1796. On his next
voyage to the same island, which he
made in the capacity of mate, he was
twice impressed by the British, and
each time contrived to make his escape,
reduced, however, to such circumstances
of privation, that in his need he was
compelled to work his passage home
ward in the winter season, ill clad, and
exposed to all the rigors of a northern
icy coast.
Soon after reaching home he applied
for admission into the navy, obtained
a midshipman's warrant and joined the
Constellation, Captain Truxton, then
recently put in commission, and already
distinguished by her services on the
coast. In the famous action of this
vessel, in February, 1799, with the
French frigate, the Insurgente, which
ended in the capture of the latter, mid
shipman David Porter had command
of the foretop, a position, as it turned
out, of peril and responsibility in the
engagement. When the prize was
taken, Porter was sent on board of her
with Lieutenant Eodgers and eleven
men to take possession and remove her
prisoners. Before this duty could be
discharged, night came on, and a heavy
blow separated the vessel from the

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DAVID PORTER.

17

Constellation, leaving this little guard
to control one hundred and seventy-
three unfettered Frenchmen. The hand
ful of American seamen, however, were
well officered; the prisoners were got
into the holdj and though eager to
escape, kept there by the superior
resolution and vigilance of their cap
tors, who, besides their duty of work
ing the ship, watched as a guard at the
hatchways for three days, till the vessel
was brought safely to the Constellation
at St. Kitt's. For this brilliant service,
Porter, at the time, received no promo
tion. Before the close of the year,
however, he was made lieutenant. He
served with honor and distinction
the West India

m

service, till the

termination of this quasi-war with
France. The terms of peace with that nation
were settled, early in 1801, and in the
spring of the same year a new field for
our infant navy was opened in a dis
tant quarter of the world, in the aggres
sions and defiance of the bashaw of
Tripoli. Porter sailed to the Mediter
ranean in the Enterprise, in Commo
dore Dale's squadron, and assisted in
the capture of a Tripolitan vessel of
some note. In May, 1803, we find him
first lieutenant of Commodore Morris'
flag-ship, the New York, engaged in a
brilliant, adventure in the harbor of old
Tripoli, in reconnoitering and setting
on fire a number of feluccas laden with
wheat, which had taken refuge under
the batteries of the town. In this
affair he received a slight wound in the
right, and a musket ball in the left
thigh. These wounds were inflicted
at the outset of the attack ; yet he con

tinued in command to the close of the
action. On his recovery he was transferred,
in September, to Captain Bainbridge's
frigate, the Philadelphia, at Gibraltar,
and speedily returned in that vessel to
the scene of his late enterprise off Tri
poli. He was thus engaged in the
blockade, when the Philadelphia had
the misfortune, in chasing a vessel of
the enemy, to be thrown upon a reef
at the entrance of the harbor. After
the most heroic efforts to escape, and
fighting to the uttermost, the frigate
was compelled to surrender, and her
officers and crew to go into captivity.
The story of that imprisonment, pro
tracted for more than a year and a half,
is a memorable event in our national
annals. Its tedious, monotonous en
durance was broken by many noble
attempts at rescue on the part of the
American fleet, and by the gallant act
of Decatur, in the burning of the cap
tured vessel in the harbor ; the arrival
of the Constitution, and the successive
bombardments of Commodore Preble ;
the fatal explosion of the Intrepid in
the harbor, sweeping the noble Somers
to an untimely end — incidents all of
which occurred within sight and hear
ing of the prisoners. Within, the cap
tives bore their imprisonment with
equanimity, and waited for a better
day. They even availed themselves of
this dismal leisure to strengthen them
selves in the duties of their profession
for future service. By the kindness of
M. Nissen, the Danish consul, an excel
lent supply of books was furnished
them. These were read with avidity
and a systematic course of instruction

18

DAVID PORTER.

entered upon by the younger officers.
Lieutenant Porter directed these stu
dies, and made various acquisitions of
his own in general literature, the
French language, and drawing.
The repeated attacks of Preble, and
other operations of the war, finally
brought the stubborn Tripolitans to
terms of surrender. Peace was con
cluded June 3, 1805, and the prisoners
released. A naval court of inquiry
was then held at Syracuse, which exon
erated the officers from censure in the
loss of the Philadelphia, after which
Lieutenant Porter was appointed to
the command of the Enterprise, and
cruised along the African coast in the
neighborhood of Tripoli, stopping to
indulge his historical and antiquarian
tastes in a scholar's admiration of the
Eoman remains of Leptis Magna. An
incident which occurred at Malta, ilhis-
trates the temper of the times with re
spect to England and the resolute spirit
of the young heroes of the American
navy. A fOul-mouthed British sailor
came alongside the Enterprise, abusing
the officers and crew, for which Captain
Porter promptly ordered him seized
and flogged at the gangway. The
governor, naturally indignant, ordered
the vessel to be detained ; but Porter,
with lighted matches and the men at
their posts, swept by the forts without
interruption. His last adventure in
the* Mediterranean was a conflict with
twelve Spanish gunboats, which he
soundly punished for their rashness in
attacking him, in sight of Gibraltar.
After five years' absence from home
in the Mediterranean, he returned to
America, and signalized a brief interval

of leisure by marriage to Miss Ander
son, a lady of Pennsylvania. He was
then appointed to the New Orleans
station, where he was employed in en
forcing the embargo and non-inter
course laws. It may be noted as
a curious coincidence, that his father,
an officer in the service, died while
under his command on this sta
tion. Desirous of exchanging this
locality, which was injurious to his
health, for another, he was appointed
to the command of the Essex, a small
frigate of thirty-two guns. The actual
breaking out of the war which had
been long impending with England,
found him, at the time of the declara
tion of hostilities, in June, 1812, refit
ting his ship at New York. In a few
days he was at sea, leaving Sandy
Hook on the third of July and cruis
ing to the southward. He took some
prizes, and was then compelled by
stress of weather to change his course
to the north. While off the banks, as
he was going before a southerly wind,
he came up with an English fleet, con
sisting of a frigate and bomb- vessel con
ducting several transports. It was at
night, towards morning, with a dull
moon feebly lighting the sea. Coming
up first with one of the transports, he
learnt the nature of the fleet, and as
the ships were sailing widely apart, he
determined to push his vessel, a fast
sailer, to the frigate in the van, and
encounter her as a prize worthy of his
steel. The second transport, as he came
up, was suspicious of his movements,
and was about to give the alarm, when
he threatened a broadside and quietly
gained possession of her. She was

DAVID PORTER.

19

found to be filled with troops. The
convoy ship meanwhile sailed away.
A few days' sailing brought the
Essex within view of a British frigate,
which proved to be the Alert, of twen
ty guns. Captain Porter's vessel was
at the time disguised as a merchant
man, " her gun-deck ports in, top-gal
lant masts housed, and sails trimmed
in a slovenly manner." The English
vessel consequently bore down upon
her expecting an easy prize, when the
Essex knocked out her ports, opened
fire, and in eight minutes reduced her
adversary to a sinking condition. The
Alert, thus captured, was the first ship
of war taken in the contest. She was
sent as a cartel into St. Johns, with
the prisoners. Captain Porter shortly
after turned into the Delaware to re
plenish his ship's water and stores.
The Essex was now attached to the
squadron of Captain Bainbridge, his
command consisting, in addition, of
the Constitution and Hornet. The
whole were to cruise on the coast of
Brazil, and thence cross the Atlantic
to intercept the homeward-bound East
India ships. Bainbridge sailed from
Boston with his flag-ship and the Hor
net, on the 26th October, directing that
the Essex -should follow him from the
Delaware, stopping at certain appoint
ed stations of rendezvous on his grand
route. The Essex accordingly sailed
two days after the other vessels, tra
versing the long distance to the equator
without the opportunity of making a
prize. Shortly after passing" that line,
however, on the twelfth of December,
she captured the Nocton, a British gov
ernment packet, which yielded fifty-five

thousand dollars in specie to his trea
sury. Being heavily laden, the Essex
did. not overtake her companions at the
first appointed station, at the island
Fernando Neronha, which wras reached
a few days after the capture just men
tioned. ¦. They were making their way
to St. Salvador, both ships to secure
their triumphs on the South American
coast : one in the conquest of the Java ;
the other, of the Peacock.
Capt. Porter, after beating about for
some time, in vain efforts to join his
comrades of the squadron, the ground,
meanwhile, becoming more dangerous,
from the presence of British cruisers,
took the responsibility of deciding
upon his movements for himself. He
continued a southerly course, and the
eastern parts of the continent being il
the English interest, and consequently
closed to him, he determined to double
Cape Horn, and forage upon the com
merce of the enemy in the Pacific.
This resolution was formed after he
had failed to secure adequate supplies
at the island of St. Catherines, the last
place of rendezvous on the coast of
Brazil, and in face of the thickening
dangers which beset him. " The sea
son, to be sure," says he in his journal
of the 26th of January, 1813, the date
of his leaving the island, " was far ad
vanced, for -doubling Cape Horn; our
stock of provisions was short, and the
ship in other respects not well supplied
for so long a cruise — to the port of
Concepcion, on the coast of Chili — but
there appeared no other choice left for
me, except capture, starvation or block
ade ; and this course, of all others, ap
peared to me the most justifiable, as it

20

DAVID PORTER.

accorded with the views of the honor
able Secretary of the Navy, as well as
those of my immediate commander."
The Pacific project had, in fact, been
submitted to the Secretary of the Navy
before the declaration of war, and met
with his approval, and Commodore
Bainbridge had concurred in the idea,
provided the necessary supply of pro
visions could be obtained. It was not,
therefore, an entirely unauthorized ad
venture upon which the Essex was pro
ceeding. The voyage round Cape Horn was a
rough prelude to its better fortunes.
For more than a month in those south
ern latitudes, on either side of the ex
tremity of the continent, the Essex was
tempest tossed in that stormy sea.
At length the coast of Chili was
reached, and on the sixth of March a
landing made at the island of Mocha, a
not unfriendly though deserted station,
affording a supply of fresh provisions
to the crew, in the horses and hogs
which ran wild over its surface. From
this place the Essex ran down the coast
with the hope of meeting some of the
enemy's vessels from which supplies
might be obtained ; and failing in this,
struck boldly into the port of Valpa
raiso, the captain reluctantly feeling
himself compelled to resort to the ten
der mercies of the Spanish officials,
from whom little friendship was to be
anticipated. Great was his gratifica
tion on being received with eminent
distinction. The Chilians had just
thrown off their allegiance to Spain,
and set up their independence. They
hailed his national vessel as a timely
visitant from a sister republic. Hos

pitalities were freely extended, and
every facility afforded of replenishing
his stores. Intent upon the grand ob
ject of his voyage, he did not, of course,
linger long amidst these seductions.
Stored with a superfluity of jerked
beef and other provisions, the Essex
left the port eager for approaching con
flicts. Overhauling a whale-ship, the
Charles, of Nantucket, information was
had from the captain that two of his
consorts, the Barclay and the Walker,
had been taken possession of by a
Spanish and an English ship near
the port of Coquimbo. The Essex
was accordingly hastened on her way,
in search of the aggressors. In no
long time she fell in with a ship of
war disguised as a whaler, the real
character of which was at once detected
by Captain Porter. He had now raised
the English flag, and hailed the vessel,
when a shot was fired from her which
passed the bow of the Essex. It was
responded to by a few shot over the
deck of the stranger, which brought
alongside a boat, that was sent back
with orders to her captain to run along
side, and come on board with his
papers and offer an apology for his
rudeness to an English frigate. The
ruse succeeded perfectly. The captain
was ill, but a lieutenant arrrived and
disburdened himself not only of the
required apology, but of much informa
tion of a character exceedingly agreea
ble to the ears of Captain Porter. He
was informed that the vessel before
him was the Peruvian privateer Nerey-
da, of fifteen guns, out on a cruise for
American vessels ; that she had recent
ly captured the two whalers of which

DAVID PORTER.

21

he had heard, and that one of them,
the Walker, had been taken from her
by a British letter-of-marque, the Nim-
rod, and that, supposing Porter's vessel
might be that aggressor, the shot had
been fired. The privateer, apart from
this, professed the greatest respect for
the English flag; his sole object, in
fact, on the cruise was the capture of
American vessels, of which, though he
had been four months out, he had
taken but the two alluded to, and that
the captain of one of them was now on
board his vessel. Upon hearing this,
Porter sent for the American captain,
and, closeted with him in his cabin,
had the whole candid revelation con
firmed. He then hoisted the American
flag, to legalize the capture, and, firing
a couple of guns, the Nereyda struck
her colors. She was stripped to her
topsails and courses, and in that condi
tion sent back to Callao with her crew
of Spaniards, bearing a message to the
viceroy of Peru, from Captain Porter,
commending her commander to such
punishment at the hands of his excel
lency as as his violation of American
commerce might deserve. The Ameri
cans on board the privateer were liber
ated; a portion of them joining the
Charles, the rest volunteering for ser
vice in the Essex. The latter then
bore up for the northwest, and at the
entrance to Callao rescued the Barclay,
one of the whalers which had been cap
tured by the Nereyda. This vessel
uow joined the Essex, and her captain
proved of eminent service in directing
the cruiser to the haunts of the enemv.
He was unintentionally seconded in
this good work by the master of a
n.-3

Spanish brig from Callao, which the
Essex met with. The latter, under the
English flag, enjoyed again the most
confidential communication with the
unsuspecting Spaniard, who imparted
much interesting information regarding
the English and other vessels she had
left in port.
The Essex continued her voyage
along the coast, and meeting with no
thing of importance turned her course
to the Gallipagos Islands, near the
Equator, a favorite resort of the whal
ers. Chatham Island, the most easterly
of this group, was made on the 17th
of April, and Charles and Albemarle
were visited in succession, without re
sult beyond a curious inspection of
these remarkable volcanic islands and
the capture of an occasional turtle or
land tortoise, till the morning of the
twenty-ninth brought a long-coveted
sail in sight, which proved to be the
whale-ship Montezuma, with fourteen.
hundred barrels of spermaceti oil. She
was spoken under British colors, and
the captain, being invited on board,
gave such information in the cabin as
he had to communicate, while his crew
were quietly taken from his vessel to
the deck of the Essex. There were two
other vessels in sight, the Georgiana,
of six eighteen pounders, twenty-five
men, and two hundred and eighty tons,
and the Policy, of ten six-pounders,
twenty-six men and one hundred. and
seventy-five tons. Both these vessels
surrendered an easy prey to a boarding
party led by Lieutenant Downes, in
the boats of the Essex, the wind be
coming too light for the latter to follow
in pursuit.

22

DAVID PORTER.

The gallant leader of this daring ad
venture was a man of comprehensive
mind, whose plans, rapid and flourish
ing as were his fortunes, always went
beyond them. In his gigantic enter
prise, his single small frigate expanded
as if by a miracle into a fleet, destined
not only to sweep the commerce of a
great nation from an ocean, but to con
trol her armed cruisers. The Essex
swept on her way with a tributary
train of British vessels behind, some
converted into storeships, others fitted
up as supplementary vessels of war.
The Georgiana became thus as formid
able, in point of armament, as any of
the British privateers afloat in those
waters. This prize was commanded
by Lieutenant Downes, who, parting
from the Essex, in a cruise among the
islands, made three important captures,
with two of which, dismissing the third
with his prisoners on parole, he very
skilfully managed to join Captain Por
ter, falling in with him again at Tum-
bez, in the gulf of Guayaquil, whi
ther he had gone to procure water for
his fleet. The Essex meanwhile had
added to her conquests two other Brit
ish whalers, the Atlantic and Green
wich, respectively of 355 and 338 tons,
24 and 25 men, and eight and ten
guns. The Atlantic having proved her
qualities as a good sailer, and being, in
every way, a better ship than the Geor
giana, was fitted up with twenty guns,-
christened the Essex Junior, and given
to Lieutenant Downes as her comman
der. A few days after leaving the har
bor, the Fourth of July was celebrated
by a salute of seventeen guns fired
from the Essex, Essex Junior, and

Greenwich, the crews spending the day
in " the utmost conviviality," by aid of
a bountiful supply of spirits furnished
by the enemy's stores. The Essex Jun-
ior, being now fully equipped, was pre
sently sent with four of the prize ships
to Valparaiso, that they might be sold
with their cargoes. ; and this being ac
complished, Lieutenant Downes was
directed to sail with supplies to join
him either at Banks Island or at one
of the Marquesas, whither Captain Por
ter would proceed with the Essex,
Which now stood in need of a thorough
refitting.' . t.
The latter, having with him the
Georgiana and the Greenwich, now
sailed for the old whaling rendezvous
of the Gallipagos, in the waters of
which, off Banks Bay, a favorite resort,
he made three fresh captures, including
the Seringapatam, of fourteen guns,
" the finest British ship in those seas,"
having been built as a man of war for
the renowned Tippoo Saib, and now
commanded by an enterprising captain,
who had already taken a Nantucket
whaler. Some six weeks afterwards,
in September, the Essex had the good
fortune to fall in with the armed
whaler, Sir Andrew Hammond, of 301
tons, twelve guns and thirty-one men.
She was overtaken off the island of
Albemarle, while engaged in cutting
up whales. Her capture completed a
list of twelve British privateering Ares-
sels taken in a few months by Captain
Porter and his companions in the Paci
fic Proceeding to Banks Bay to rejoin
his prizes, he was there joined by Lieu
tenant Downes, on his return from Val
paraiso, in the Essex Junior. With

DAVID PORTER.

23

that vessel and his little fleet of prizes,
now consisting of the storeship Green
wich, -the Seringapatam, the Hammond,
and New Zealander — the Georgiana
and another having been freighted
with oil and dispatched to the United
States, two dismissed with the prison
ers on parole, and% the rest being at
Valparaiso — Captain Porter proceeded
to the group of the Marquesas, which
he reached on the twenty-third of Oc
tober, the very month in which, a year
before, he had r sailed frOm the Dela
ware. The first land which they made of
the islands was one of the group
claimed to be discovered some twenty
years before by" Captain Eoberts, of
Boston, and patriotically named by
him the. Washington Islands. There
was some intercourse of a friendly
character with the natives before the
little fleet sailed into its resting-place,
a few leagues further to the westward,
in the bay of Nooaheevah. Here Cap
tain Porter, finding the anchorage good,
the disposition Of the inhabitants favor
able to his views, and the land abun
dantly stored with the fresh provisions
of which he stood so much in need,
determined to remain till the object of
his visit, in refitting his vessel, was
accomplished. His plans at the outset
were greatly facilitated by the pre
sence of an Englishman, who, having
been many years on the island, was
perfectly familiar with the language,
and who showed himself quite willing
to act as interpreter.. He also found
there, oddly enough, a midshipman of
the United States navy on furlough,
who had been left by a Canton trader

to Collect sandal- wood against his re
turn. With these introductions, and
the easy manners of the tribe who oc
cupied the bay, the party soon felt
themselves quite at home. The only
difficulty wdiich they had to anticipate
was from the tribes who were at war
with one another in the valleys which
seanied the mountainous surface of the
island-^-the Happahs, and more formid
able Typees. With his usual direct
ness, Captain Porter soon taught these
belligerents a lesson of fear by an armed
incursion into their territories, after
which he was perfectly secure in his
little settlement on the shore, and the
whole island was tributary to his
larder. It was, in fact, something more than
a temporary resting-place which he pro
posed to establish while his frigate was
undergoing repairs. He meditated no
thing less than a permanent occupa
tion for his countrymen, and for this
purpose, on the 19th November, when
he had become somewhat acquainted
with the people, took possession of the
island, with a formal declaration, in
which he set forth the usual claim to
priority of discovery, conquest and pos
session ; the customary good will of the
natives who welcomed his protection,
and the imposing ceremonial 01 raising
the flag, firing a salute from a fort
which he had armed from the ships''
guns, and burying a copy of the instru
ment, with several United States coins,
in a bottle at the foot of the flagstaff.
This is the ready way in which empires
then and since have been created on
the bosom of the broad Pacific. The
proceeding was completed by naming

w

DAVID PORTER.

the island, in honor of the war Presi
dent at home, Madison ; the fort, Fort
Madison ; the village, Madison's Ville,
and the bay, Massachusetts Bay —
names, we fear, quite lost sight of by
the French, who have since enacted
their ceremonies in their turn, and who
now hold possession.
Six weeks were passed at the island,
in refitting the Essex and in various
intercourse with the natives, which was
of so enticing a nature that it required
all the commander's energy to with
draw his men from this seductive rest
ing-place. After this exercise of au
thority, leaving three of the prizes
moored under the guns of the fort, to
which he detailed a small force under
Lieutenant Gamble, and forwarding
the fourth prize to the United States,
he set sail from the pleasant bay in
company with the Essex Junior, in
quest of more stirring adventures on
the coast of Chili.
Captain Porter, indeed, was already
aware, by information brought him on
the return of Lieutenant Downes from
Valparaiso, of the warlike preparations
making by the British to drive him
from the ocean. The frigate Phoebe,
thirty-six guns, and the Eaccoon and
Cherub, of twenty-four each, were, he
knew, in search of him ; and he had
no disposition, under tolerably equal
circumstances, to thwart their endea-
Nor was he unwilling to seek

vors.

an opportunity of acquiring greater
glory in a conflict with an armed fri
gate, than could accrue from conquests,
however numerous, over less powerfully
protected merchantmen. He accord'
ingly sailed along the South American

ports, looking in at Concepcion and
other harbors, and finally anchoring,
on the third of February, 1814, in the
bay of Valparaiso. The Essex Junior
was left to watch outside for the arri
val of the enemy, who might naturally
be expected at the port. With his
usual gallantry, Commodore Porter,
again welcomed to the city, was bent
upon returning the courtesies of the
townspeople, whose entertainment on
board his vessel had been inter
rupted on his previous visit. The
ladies, this time, were not disap
pointed of their dance. Before, how
ever, the awnings and flags which had
been set up for the occasion could be
cleared away, a signal from the Essex
Junior announced the arrival of the
enemy's ships, the Phoebe, Captain Hill-
yer, and her consort, the Cherub. Both
vessels of Porter's command awaited
their arrival in the harbor, ready for
action should an attack be made, but
unwilling to take the initiative, out of
respect for the neutral port. As it
proved, Captain Porter's generous for
bearance on the occasion was entirely
misplaced. The Phoebe came up in ad
vance of her consort, fully prepared foi
action, drawing close alongside the Es
sex as if for attack, which was every
moment expected. As she continued
to approach, Captain Porter " observed"
to Captain Hillyer, who had politely
inquired after his health — the two hav
ing been previously on the best of
terms in the Mediterranean — that he
was ready for action if attacked, receiv
ing the reply, " Oh, sir, I have no in
tention of getting on board of you."
To this Porter answered, if he did

DAVID PORTER.

25

there would be much bloodshed. The
British officer then renewed his assur
ances, but kept nearing, clumsily bring
ing the jib-boom of his vessel across
the forecastle of the Essex. This posi
tion, seemed to demand prompt action
from the American, and her boarders
were ready for their work, when Cap
tain Hillyer protested so vigorously
that the attack was suspended. " At
that moment," says Porter, " not a gun
from the Phoebe could be brought to
bear on the Essex or Essex . Junior,
while her bow was exposed to the fak
ing fire of the one, and her stern to
that of the other. Her consort was
too far off to afford any assistance.
The Phoebe was completely at my mer
cy. I could have destroyed her in fif
teen minutes." We shall see how this
forbearance was rewarded.
The four vessels were now together
in harbor, floating side by side in
armed neutrality, enlivened, however,
by. frequent intimations of defiance.
The Phoebe, for instance, would hoist a
flag bearing the motto, " God and
country; British sailors' best rights;
traitors offend both," — which, it was
alleged, was in reply to Porter's favor
ite motto, " Free trade and sailors'
rights." This defiance was met by the
American with the counter motto, " God,
our country and liberty — tyrants of
fend them." While these taunts were
spread to the breeze aloft, Jack below
was engaged in a pastoral contest of ri
val songs, sounded from deck to deck
of the hostile vessels. Some of these
were original ; others selected for their
suitability, from the copious stock of
the forecastle. "The songs from the

Cherub," says Porter, in the interesting
narrative of the Cruise of the Essex,
which he subsequently published, "were
better sung, but those of the Essex were
more witty and more to the point. The
national tune of Yankee Doodle was the
vehicle through which the crew of the
Essex, in full chorus, conveyed their
nautical sarcasms; while The Sweet
Little Cherub that Sits up Aloft, was
generally selected by their rivals.
These things were not only tolerated,
but encouraged by the officers, through
the whole of the first watch of the
calm, delightful nights of Chili, much
to the amusement of the people of Val
paraiso, and the frequent annoyance of
the crew of the Cherub." Captain
Hillyer was inclined to check this con
test, but Captain Porter, anxious to
provoke an engagement, was quite dis
posed to encourage it ; so it was kept
up, " the poetical effusions of our op
ponents," humorously records Porter
himself, " becoming so highly meritori
ous as to cause a suspicion of their
being the production of Captain Hill
yer himself."
Various attempts were made by Cap
tain Porter to provoke a challenge, or
gain an opportunity for an engagement
between the Essex and Phosbe. The
advantage of armament, it should be
observed, was on the side of the latter ;
the force of the Essex consisting of
forty thirty-two pound carronades, and
six long twelves, with a crew of two
hundred and fifty-five men ; the Phoebe
mounting thirty long eighteen pounders,
sixteen thirty-two pound carronades,
one howitzer, and six three-pounders in
the tops, with a complement of three

26

DAVID PORTER.

hundred and twenty men. But not
withstanding this' inequality, the wary.
Captain Hillyer would only contend
when he had clearly an overpowering
superiority. The Cherub, Which he
kept alongside of him, was far more
powerful than' the ' Essex Junior. In
vain Porter would run out, and seek to
engage the Phoebe alone ; on one occa
sion, provoking an encounter by defi
antly towing out one of his prizes, and
burning the vessel in sight of the ene
my. This came near bringing on an
engagement, when the Phoebe, as usual,
ran for her consort. Captain Hillyer
was prudently waiting for reinforce
ments to secure his prize. Fully aware
of the toils which, were closing in upon
him, and trusting to the superior sail
ing qualities of his ship, Porter at
length determined to put to sea, draw
ing the British vessels after him, while
the Essex Junior could escape at her
leisure. On the twenty-eighth of March,
the desired opportunity seemed to have
arrived. There was a fresh wind from
the southward which carried the Essex
to the mouth of the harbor, where the
enemy were lying in wait. Unhappily,
as the American was rounding the
point of the bay, she was struck by a
heavy squall, which carried away the
main-top-mast, throwing the men who
were aloft into the sea, where they
were drowned. Both ships then chased
the Essex into the neutral waters of
the bay, where she took refuge, within
three miles of the town, under the
guns of a fort, within pistol shot of
the shore.
It was evident from the display of
mot-tos and jacks on board the Phoebe,

that she was moving on to the attack.
Captain Porter, consequently, prepared
the Essex for action, and was endeavor
ing to get a spring on his cable, when
the Phoebe, about four o'clock in the
afternoon, placed astern, and the Cherub
on the starboard bow, opened their fire.
The' Cherub presently, also, took her
station astern. The enemy had the
advantage both in position and in the
range of their guns at the long dis
tance, when Captain Porter bringing
three of his long twelves to bear from
his stern ports — they were worked so
well, that, in half an hour, both vessels
were compelled to haul off to repair
damages. The Essex received consid
erable damage in her rigging, while,
for the greater part of the time, help
lessly exposed to this fire. Three times
she had succeeded in getting springs
on her cables, but so fierce was the fire
that they were shot away before the
broadside could be brought to bear.
There was but one feeling, however, on
her deck as both vessels of the enemy
came up on the starboard quarter for a
fresh attack, which was prudently con
ducted by her long range guns out of
reach of the ineffective carronades of
the Essex. The only resort for the lat
ter was to close, if possible ; but, unfor-
fortunately for any such movement;
there was not a practicable sail left but
the flying jib, the remaining halliards
being cut away. With this some head
way was made, feebly assisted by let
ting fall the foretopsail and foresail,
the tacks and sheets of which were
destroyed. The Essex was thus ena-
bled, for a short time, to close with
the enemy. The firing on both sides

DAVID PORTER.

27

now was tremendous — the decks were
strewed with dead, the cock-pit filled
with wounded, and the ship had been
several times on fire, yet the men held
on, encouraged by seeing the Cherub
haul off. But the Phoebe, with her
long guns pouring in upon a disabled
vessel, was a fearful adversary. Guns
were overthrown on board the Essex,
and the crews of Others shot away.
The survivors manned the guns that
were left. One gun was thus three
times manned, losing fifteen men in the
action. In this extremity, Porter de
termined to run his vessel on shore,
and destroy her rather than be cap
tured, and had nearly succeeded in
doing no, when a change of wind drove
him again upon "the dreadful raking
fife" of the Phoebe. Porter still hoped
to board. In the midst of this scene Of
carnage, the brave Lieutenant Downes,
of the Essex Junior, made his way
through the fire to Captain Porter to
receive his orders ; but nothing could
be done, and he returned to his own
ship, carrying away in his boat several
wounded, and leaving three of his crew
to make room for them. " The slaugh
ter on board my ship," continues Por
ter, "had now become horrible, the
enemy; raking us, and we unable to
bring a gun to bear." But even yet the
resources of this skilful mariner were
not exhausted. Ordering a hawser to
be bent to the sheet-anchor, he let it
go, and thus brought the head of the
vessel around, and gained opportunity
for another broadside. The breaking
of the hawser put an end -to this last
chance of annoying the enemy. The
Essex, moreover, was on fire in several

places, the flames bursting up each
hatchway and approaching the mag
azine. A large quantity of powder
exploded below. The boats were de
stroyed. In mercy to his men, Captain
Porter directed those who could swim
to jump overboard, and if possible
gain the shore, about three-quarters of
a mile distant. Most remained with
him to defend the ship to the last. It
was, indeed, the last moment when he
surrendered. There was but one officer
left to advise wijfch. him. The rest were
dead or -horribly wounded; and as with
the officers, so with the men. The flag
was struck at twenty minutes past six
after an action of about two hours anu
a half. More than one-half of her
entire crew were killed, wounded or
missing. The combat was witnessed
by thousands who covered the sur
rounding hills. Such was the termina
tion of Captain Porter's memorable
cruise in the Pacific, ending, indeed, in
disaster, but leaving a wonderful im
pression of the resources of a single
small ship when directed by a com
manding will and intellect.
Captain Porter was well treated by
his captor and friends at Valparaiso,
though the government had shown
itself not well affected towards him.
In the disposition which was made of
the prisoners, it was arranged they
should be sent home for exchange in
the Essex Junior, as a cartel. The lat
ter reached the American coast in
safety, when she was boarded off New
York by a British vessel, and the pass
port of Captain Hillyer disputed. The
next morning, while the cartel was
thus detained, Porter, true to the spirit

28

DAVID PORTER.

of adventure with which he had set
out, having on the first detention de
clared himself a prisoner no longer on
parole, left the cartel off the shore of
Long Island to make his escape in a
boat. The movement was observed,
but not in time, and Porter, under cover
of a friendly fog, after some sixty miles
rowing and sailing, reached the hospi
table village of Babylon, whence he
passed to a triumphant reception at
New York.
The conclusion of the war found
Captain Porter on the eve of taking
command of a squadron of small ves
sels, got together for the annoyance of
the enemy's commerce in the West
Indies. Peace put an end to this
scheme. In the reorganization of the
navy which ensued, he was appointed,
with Commodores Eodgers and Hull,
one of the three officers of the board
of navy commissioners, and continued
in the execution of its important duties
till 1823, when he was ordered to the
command of an expedition fitted out
by government to suppress the syste
matic piracy, which had for some time
prevailed in the Gulf of Mexico. His
squadron consisted of a steam galliott,
eight small schooners, and five barges.
Having his centre of operations, at
Thompson's Island, now Key West, in
a few months, so effective was his- con
duct of the force, he had broken up
the whole piratical system on the
coasts of St. Domingo and Cuba. The
following year, 1824, an incident oc
curred which was the occasion of his
recall. A robbery of American pro
perty took place on the island of
St. Thomas* when the goods were car

ried by the pirates into the port of
Foxardo, in Porto Eico, an island of a
bad reputation for its countenance to
piracy and privateering. Lieutenant
Piatt, one of Commodore Porter's offi
cers, undertook to aid in the recovery
of the property. He accordingly pre
sented himself with his vessel, the
Beagle, at the port, was roughly re
ceived by the authorities, and even
arrested and put under guard. Smart
ing with this indignity as he left the
port, he met Commodore Porter, in the
John Adams, coming in, and narrated
his grievances. The latter determined
to resent the affair at once as a gross
insult to the flag. Entering the har
bor with the Beagle and Grampus, and
the boats of the Adams, he sent a mes
sage to the alcalde of the town de
manding satisfaction, and threatening
reprisals in case it should be refused.
One hour was given for the decision.
A shore battery, meanwhile, about to
fire upon the party, was silenced by a
detachment of seamen and marines,
when Porter landed with two hundred
men, and marched against the town.
An undefended battery was passed on
the road, and a messenger sent forward
for negotiation; when the Spaniards,
thinking discretion the better part of
valor, agreed to present the required
explanation and apology. Commodore
Porter then retired with his party.
For this prompt vindication of the
honor of his country, as he thought it,
he was immediately recalled by his
government, tried by a court-martial
for transgressing his orders, and sen
tenced to suspension from the service
for six months. The decree deeply

DAVID PORTER.

29

wounded the spirit of the patriot who
had served his country in so many
engagements, who, in the words of his
defence, "had consumed 'the flower of
his years, and the vigor of his life in
arduous and, as he hoped, in acceptable
services ; who had looked for approba
tion, if not honor, as his reward for an
unstinted exposure to labors, priva
tions, and dangers ; so much the more
disinterested, as, however beneficial to
his country and to mankind, it pro
mised few of the personal gratifications
which may be laudably sought in the
renown of more striking and brilliant
achievements." The recollection of
these things should have made the -sen
tence of Porter a light one. Senator
Benton, who watched the proceedings
of the trial, which lie in the dust of our
libraries, recorded in a bulky octavo,
says, that he was " hardly dealt with."
The sentence cost the navy one of its
most honored members. Commodore
Porter resigned, left the country, and
entered the service of the Mexican
government to take charge of her
newly formed naval department. He
remained in that country till General
Jackson became President of the
United States, in 1829, when he was
offered the restoration of his place in
the navy. He refused it on account of
the old unreversed censure, but ac
cepted the post of Consul General at
Algiers. The French occupation of the
countiy found him in possession of the
office, when he was appointed Chargg
d' Affaires at Constantinople. The ap
pointment was subsequently enlarged
to that of Eesident Minister. It was
n. — 4

the period of Sultan Mahmoud, the
great Turkish reformer, of whose cha
racter and acts Commodore Porter, as
his published letters bear witness,
was a most careful and intelligent
observer. This correspondence, origi
nally addressed to a friend in New
York, without view to publication, was
given to the world in 1835, with the
title, " Constantinople and its Environs,
in a series of letters, exhibiting the
actual state of the manners, customs,
and habits of the Turks, Armenians,
Jews and Greeks, as modified by the
policy of Sultan Mahmoud, by an Ame
rican, long resident at Constantinople."
While in Turkey, Commodore Porter
negotiated several important treaties.
He continued to hold his position as
minister till his death, which came,
after a gradual decline, at Pera, a sub
urb of Constantinople, the twenty-
eighth of March, 1843, at the age of
sixty-three. His remains were brought
home in the ship of war, Truxton, and
interred in the grounds of the Naval
Asylum, near Philadelphia.
The late Senator Benton, who has
given an animated sketch of his career,
thus notices the kindly traits of the
man : " Humanity was a ruling feature
in his character, and of this he gave
constant proof — humane to the enemy,
as well as to his own people. Of his
numerous captures, he never made
one by bloodshed when milder means
could prevail; always preferring, by
his superior seamanship, to place them
in predicaments which coerced sur
render." Patriotism was a part of his
soul

JOHN JACOB ASTOR.

This eminent merchant, to whose
liberality the city of New York, and
incidentally the whole country, is in
debted for the princely foundation of
the free public library bearing his
name, came like his contemporary
Girard of Philadelphia, an adventurer
in youth from the old world to the
new. There is, to a certain extent, a
curious parallelism between the two
men. They were alike in some points
of character, and in minor habits.
Early poverty was the lot of each.
Both were borne by industry, self de
nial, sagacity, and a resolute will, to
vast fortunes. They were alike men
of large commercial views and grand
resources. Each was favored in being
carried onward with the development
of the country, and the rising welfare
of a great city. It has been their com
mon felicity to perpetuate their names
with a grateful posterity by beneficent
institutions erected by their bounty.
The Girard College and the Astor Li
brary are the ornaments of Phila
delphia and New York. In other
respects the parallel would fail. Gi
rard lived an unsocial, unsympathizing
life, intent only on the toil and profit
which had become necessities of his
being His existence was without the
grace and ameliorating influences of

30

the eminent friendships which softened
and refined the career of Mr. Astor ,
nor had he those family interests and
affections which might have done so
much to increase his happiness while
living and perpetuate his fortunes and
beneficence when departed.
John Jacob Astor was born in the
village of Waldorf, near Heidelberg, in
the Grand Duchy of Baden, in Ger
many, July 17, 1763. His parents
were of the laboring peasant class, who
brought up their family of four sons,
of whom the subject of this sketch was
the youngest, to habits of industry
and virtue. John Jacob remembered
through life the lessons which he had
been taught on the farm in childhood,
of early rising and simple religious
reading. There was enterprise and in
telligence in the race, for we find two
of his brothers emigrants to England
and America for the sake of bettering
their fortunes, before he joined them
on the same quest. The course of tra
vel in the last century, it should be
remembered, differed greatly from the
easy pathway opened at present. It
argued then some force of character to
break the barrier which hemmed in
the life of a simple German peasant,
fettered by his boundaries and associa
tions. The young Astor seems early

ZiTcctu'ss cvpied-ty permzssten from ,m crwiTiaZ'pazrutiTifj m z7t&posstt$Z(7rifff1fefa7nAfy.
Jootlsotl Fryi Co PiiMisliere. New York.

JOHN JACOB ASTOR.

81

to have felt, with something of a pre
science of his coming fortunes, that
there was a prosperous career before
him in the world, and that he had Imt
to go forth to enter upon it. At any
rate, at the age of sixteen he starts on
foot, " without waiting for other outfit
than the clothes he wore," to proceed
to the coast of Holland, with the de
sign of reaching his oldest brother, in
England, who had some footing in
London as a musical instrument maker,
and who required his assistance in the
business. He found a Dutch smack
which conveyed him across the Chan
nel to the metropolis, where he met
with his brother and at once engaged
eagerly in his occupation. Their resi
dence, within the sound of Bow Bells, af
forded a hint to early rising which these
industrious Germans did not neglect,
" Mr. Astor's own account of this period
of his youth," we are told in a biogra
phical sketch by one who knew him
well, " is that he never failed to rise
and dress when the clock struck four,
which gave him an hour to prepare for
his daily occupation, and much of this
hour was regularly devoted to reading
the Bible and the Lutheran prayer-
book, then the only books in his
library." *
He had been for several years thus
connected with his brother, when the
conclusion of peace with the United
States opened America once more to
the enterprise of the old world, and
perhaps led by the example of another
older brother already in the country, he

1 Sketch of Mr. Astor in Emerson's United States Mag
»zine for October, 185R.

embarked, in 1 7 8 3, for that region. He
carried with him a venture made up by
his brother, of some hundred dollars'
worth of musical instruments. The win
try passage to Baltimore was a long one
— he was all the while from November
to the following March on shipboard, at
sea, and delayed by the ice in the
Chesapeake — but it was not altogether
unprofitable, for an acquaintance which
he made on the way led him on the
high road of his subsequent fortunes.
This was a German dealer in furs with
whom he travelled to New York, and
who advised him to invest the proceeds
of his venture in that prime article of
American traffic, as one which would
find a ready market in London. He
followed the suggestion, effected the
sale and purchase, and crossing the At
lantic with his new stock, made, as was
predicted, a profitable trade. This ap
pears to have been his first mercantile
operation of consequence. It drew his
attention to a branch of traffic which
afterwards became aighly productive
in his hands, and which he conducted
with a widely extended, liberal enter
prise. In 1784, after a residence of
some months in London, which he de
voted to the study of the European
methods of the fur trade, he returned
to America, prepared, by arrangements
with his brother, to continue the traffic.
" At that time," says his biographer
already cited, " he had just completed
his twenty-first year; he was beginning
life in a foreign land, without money
capital, without powerful connections,
and without established credit ; but he
possessed powers and qualities, and
had formed habits which made him

32

JOHN JACOB ASTOR.

independent of capital, connections and
credit — a clear head, sound judgment,
quick perception, a mind of the most
comprehensive grasp, and a masterly
business talent. To these high intel
lectual powers were joined great moral
force of character, a resolute will, great
self-reliance, firmness in pronouncing
the unyielding No, when requisite, the
strict integrity that inspires confidence,
and the patient perseverance that in
sures success. Besides which he had
the groundwork and guaranty of pros
perity in his habits of life — economy,
self denial, industry, love of labor, a
proper pride in his business, punctual
ity in his engagements, and above all,
he careful avoiding of the thraldom
of debt. It is to these properties that
we must look for the elements of Mr.
Astor's extraordinary prosperity, and
not to any accident of birth or fortune,
or any external circumstances of condi
tion ; his only advantages of that kind
were his fine personal appearance, his
noble head, his oracular brow, the
stamp of higher intelligence upon his
every feature, his commanding, and,
when he chose, winning address. His
reliance was upon himself in business,
as well as in everything else, and he so
managed his affairs as to make his rap
idly accumulating capital sufficient for
its constant extension."
The two great elements of success
with Astor, as with Girard, were his
industry, combined with sound judg
ment and his self-reliance. Each
planned his operations with consum
mate ability, and it was a rule, at least
with the Frenchman, that whatever
orders he gave should be executed to

the letter, come what would of it. In
this way he projected his individuality
in different regions of the world, in his
extended commercial operations, and
his powerful will was acting in many
places with the same energy as if he
were present; for it was his custom
boldly to carry out his first decisions.
We shall see Astor issuing his com
mands in his great enterprise" with
marvellous sagacity. In the meantime
he is patiently, assiduously building up
his fortune in the pursuit of the fur
trade, at the outset working with his
own hands, and performing his jour
neys to the distant frontiers of the
country bordering on Canada and the
lakes to traffic with the Indians and
collect the skins for his merchandise.
By thrift and economy, and the suc
cessful management of his profitable
trade, he became gradually wealthy,
and began to employ his own vessels
in his shipments, making his profit on
both the outward and return cargo.
The new openings for trade with Cana
da by the provisions of the Jay treaty
of 1794, were turned to account by
him. By the year 1800 he had thus
become possessed of a fortune of a
quarter of a million of dollars.
Taking a comprehensive view of the
traffic in furs, he was anxious to give
his operations strength and importance
by national corporate authority. Some
organization he thought was needed to
cope with the great British companies
which still held the control of the trade
with the Indians, on the great western
frontier. He consequently became in
communication with- the United States
government on the subject, and in 1809

JOHN JACOB ASTOR

33

obtained from the legislature of the
State of New York a charter incorpor
ating the "American Fur Company,"
with a capital of a million Of dollars,
which was furnished by himself. " He
in fact," says Irving, " constituted the
company ; for though he had a board
of directors, they were merely nominal ;
the whole business was conducted on
his plans and with his resources, but
he preferred to do so under the impos
ing and formidable aspect of a corpora
tion, rather than in his individual
name, and his policy was sagacious and
effective." 1 To strengthen his position
he purchased from the British proprie
tors the interests of the Mackinaw com
pany of traders, and merged both that
and his own organization into a, new
association called the Southwest Com
pany. The traffic of the traders up to this
time had been mainly confined to the
regions bordering on the great lakes ;
it was Mr. Astor's ambition greatly to
enlarge this area by extending his
operations to the shores of the Pacific,
by means of a line of posts stretching
along the Missouri on the east, and the
Columbia on the west of the Eocky
mountains, with an important depot at
the mouth of the latter river, that
would open a ready means of direct
exchange with China, which afforded
the best market for the furs to be collect
ed. This of course involved an extensive
shipping interest to carry on the trade
Dpon the Pacific, and to conduct the
return cargoes from the East. The
history of Mr. Astor's great effort in

1 Astoria, p. 80

this direction is written in the most
agreeable volume of adventure by
Washington Irving, entitled " Astoria."
Nor was it merely as a trading spec
ulation that this great enterprise was
projected, and in fact accomplished.
" Indeed, it is due to him to~say," re
marks Mr. Irving, "that he was not
actuated by mere motives of indivi
dual profit. He was already wealthy
beyond the ordinary desires of man,
but he now aspired to that honorable
fame which is awarded to men of simi
lar scope of mind, who, by their great
commercial enterprises, have enriched
nations, peopled wildernesses, and ex
tended the bounds of empire. He con
sidered his projected establishment at
the mouth of the Columbia as the em
porium to an immense commerce ; as a
colony that would form the germ of a
wide civilization ; that would., in fact,
carry the American population across
the Eocky Mountains, and spread it
along the shores of the Pacific, as it
already animated the shores of the At
lantic." This view of the enterprise
was shared by the government, and by
Mr. Jefferson, always an intelligent ap-
preciator of the development of the
country. In the summer of 1810, articles of
-agreement were entered into by Mr.
Astor and his associates, chiefly drawn
from men who had been engaged in
the British fur trade, constituting
themselves the " Pacific Fur Company,"
with liberal provisions on the part of
the projector, who was to supply the
large capital required for the success
of the undertaking. A twofold expedi
tion was at once organized, by sea and

34

JOHN JACOB ASTOR.

land. A ship, well furnished, and
equipped with something of a military
armament, was provided to make the
voyage by the way of Cape Horn to
the Pacific, and take possession of the
station at the mouth of the Columbia.
This vessel, named the Tonquin, was
commanded by Lieutenant Jonathan
Thorn, of the United States navy, a
man of courage and resolution, and a
martinet in discipline, who had served
in the Tripolitan war; and with him
sailed as companions the leading Cana
dian partners of the enterprise, one of
whom was the special representative
of Mr. Astor in the management of the
business. The captain, of course, had
the supreme command of the voyage.
Various voyageurs and trappers made
up the ship's company. For the hu
mors and petty vexations of the jour
ney by sea, the pertinaciously asserted
authority of the commander, and the
careless disposition to enjoyment of his
passengers frequently bringing the two
parties into conflict, we must refer to
the picturesque pages of Mr. Irving,
where every development of character
is eagerly worked into the cunning
fabric of his, instructive and ever-de
lightful narrative. Suffice it to say
that the party set sail from New York
in September, 1810, escorted to sea, out
of fear of hostile cruisers in that period
of incipient war, by the frigate Consti
tution ; that they reached the Sandwich
Islands in safety in February, and the
following month were landed, though
not without hazard, and suffering some
severe losses, within the mouth of the
Columbia. Eight men were drowned
from boats in the surf, in attempts to

cross the bar of the river. After the
ship had reached a place of safety, her
officers chose a place for a settlement
and the establishment of a fort, to
which they gave the name Astoria, and
opened communication with the neigh
boring Indians. The Tonquin then, as
previously arranged, continued her
voyage along the coast in a northerly
direction to Vancouver's Island. But
she had not been long away when
Word was brought by the Indians to
the little colony she had left behind, of
her total loss, with her crew, under
circumstances of fearful interest. Cap
tain Thorn, on making a landing and
opening trade with the natives, had
become disgusted with their subter
fuges and chicanery, and in a fit of pas
sion driven some of their leading men
from the vessel. They returned, appa
rently unarmed, and, contrary to the
express orders of Mr. Astor before
starting, were carelessly admitted in
great numbers. The gallant comman
der estimated too lightly his savage
foe. They procured knives in ex
change for the furs which they brought
with them, on the very deck of his
vessel, and turned upon her unsuspect
ing crew, murdering the captain and
his chief officer. They were howevei
arrested in their fiendish work for the
moment by the remnant of the ship's
company, who had gained fire-arms
from below. These few men, foresee
ing their fate if they remained, aban
doned the ship in a boat, with the in
tention of making their way to Astoria
When the savages returned, to the vea.
sel and crowded her decks, they ex
pected an easy prey, for but one of her

JOHN JACOB ASTOR.

35

old crew was to be seen — a wounded
man who had refused to depart with
his companions. He was gloomily
bent on a terrible ; revenge. Waiting
till the Indians thronged the vessel, he
lighted a match below, fired the maga
zine, and involved the whole in one
common destruction. This occurred in
the summer of 1811.
Meanwhile the overland party, which
was to survey the line of the trading-
posts and effect a junction with their
companions on the Pacific, led by Mr.
Wilson Price Hunt, upon whom Mr.
Astor placed the greatest reliance for
the ultimate conduct of his colony, was
making its toilsome way by the line of
the Missouri and the passes of the
Eocky Mountains. This expedition,
which numbered many intelligent men,
left Montreal, the starting-point of their
wanderings, in July, 1810, and did not
reach Astoria till February, 1812.
They had made a roundabout journey
from St. Louis of upwards of thirty-five
hundred miles. They found on their
arrival that some progress was made
with the establishment in opening
trading-posts and carrying on traffic
with the Indians, though the fortunes
of the colony were by no means as
sured. While these journeyings and voy-
agings were going on, Mr. Astor, in
New York, intent upon his grand
scheme, in March, 1811, dispatched a
confidential agent to St. Petersburg to
accomplish a negotiation with the
northern Eussian trading settlements
on the Pacific, which was effected, and
in the autumn of the same year, ignor
ant of the fate of the first, he sent a

second vessel, the Beaver, with sup-
plies and reinforcements of men, to As
toria. In the following May this vessel
safely reached her destination, and in
fused new life into the little company
Had Mr. Astor's directions been com
plied with, all might have gone well
with the colony, wealth would have
poured into his coffers, and an import
ant national settlement been effected at
an early day on the Pacific. His plans
were in every instance well taken, giv
ing unity to a complicated system of
action reaching across an unexplored
continent, including a distant European
negotiation in their grasp, and extend
ing over the great waters of the globe.
A chain of trading-posts threading the
defiles of the Eocky Mountains, a great
emporium on the Pacific, coasting voy
ages securing the trade of that ocean,
the sale of the furs collected in China,
and a return to America with the rich
and profitable products of the East —
this was the simple outline of the
gigantic undertaking. It was really a
vast, expanded enterprise, worthy the
comprehensive mind of a great mer
chant of any time. Much more of cour
age, of adventurous foresight, did it
require when it was a pioneer work in
a comparatively unknown country, and
moreover beset- by the gravest interna
tional difficulties. All early explora
tions may be put down as extremely
hazardous and costly — seldom resulting
in profit to their first projectors. This
in particular proved, chiefly through
the inefficiency of the agents and the
neslect of Government, when the crisis
arrived, a most disastrous undertak
ing.

36

JOHN JACOB ASTOR.

The supply ship, Beaver, in pursu
ance of instructions, continued her
voyage to the Eussian Possessions, car
rying with \er Mr. Hunt, the leading
man of the colony, with the expecta
tion of an early return to the place.
Unhappily, the vessel standing in need
of some repairs, her course, after visit
ing New Archangel, was directed to
the Sandwich Islands, whence she
proceeded to China without return
ing to Astoria, leaving Mr. Hunt
at her stopping-place to wait for
Mr. Astor's next supply ship to carry
him to his post of duty. While tarry
ing for this opportunity, word reached
him of the breaking out of the war
between the United States and Great
Britain. He saw at once the peril of
Astoria, and chartering a vessel at a
high price, proceeded promptly to the
spot — to find the partners of the enter
prise, who were strongly tinctured
with British interests, McDougal, their
head, never having lost a hankering for
his old Canadian allegiance, despond
ent and on the eve of abandoning the
enterprise. In fact an arrangement was
on foot, which was afterwards consum
mated, to sell out the whole affair to
the Northwest Company, a British
association, which had pushed its agen
cies across the mountains, maintaining
a rival attitude to the American enter
prise. Mr. Astor's British partners
were for the sale or virtual surrender,
the Americans of the company opposed
the transfer; .but the former, armed
with the threats of naval hostilities,
which it was known were impending,
carried the day. Shortly after, in De
cember, 1813, the port of Astoria was

formally taken possession of by the
commander of a British cruiser.
Thus was defeated a great enterprise
which partook rather of a national
than a private commercial character.
Carried on by the will and resources
of a single man, it was worthy to have
been the project of the State itself.
That something of enthusiasm of an
elevated character entered into the
plans of Mr. Astor, we have the testi
mony of a letter written by him to his
agent, Mr. Hunt, "on occasion of send
ing forth a third ship with supplies.
" Were I on the spot," he wrote, allud
ing to the hostile machinations of the
Northwest Company, "and had the
management of affairs, I would defy
them all; but, as it is, everything de
pends on you, and your friends about
you. Our enterprise is grand and de
serves success, and I hope in God it
will meet it. If my object was merely
gain of money, I should say, think
whether it is best to save what we can,
and abandon the place ; but the very
idea is- like, a dagger to my heart."1
He doubtless bore the failure of his
expectations with equanimity, though
he could not be insensible to the disap
pointment. It was his calculation, it
is related, that the enterprise would be
a bill of expense for ten years, and an
uncertain source of profit for anothei
like period, when, having been fully
established, it could produce a net rev
enue of a million dollars a year. Of
his coolness under his losses, a story is
told by Mr. Irving of his conduct on
hearing of the loss of the Tonquin

1 Irving's Astoria, p. 482.

JOHN JACOB ASTOR.

3?

"The very same evening he appeared
at the theatre with his usual serenity
of countenance. A friend, who knew
the disastrous intelligence he had re
ceived, expressed his astonishment that
he could have calmness of spirit suffi
cient for such a scene of light amuse
ment. ' What would you have me do V
was his characteristic reply; 'would
you have me stay at home and weep
for what I cannot help \ ' "
At the conclusion of the war, Asto
ria, by the terms of the treaty, again
fell to the United States, though the
final, adjustment of the territorial rights
of the region was delayed for a longer
period. Had the Government been
willing to render the assistance of mili
tary protection, Mr. Astor would have
recovered his undertaking. As it was,
he abandoned the effort, content to
wait, the time when the country should
awake to the importance of a region,
the value of which he had formed a
due estimate of in an early period of
his career. The present town of Asto
ria, though far surpassed by other set
tlements of Oregon, bears witness, in
its name, to the daring enterprise of its
original founder.
This was Mr. Astor's last great em
ployment of his energy and capital in the
fur trade. Henceforth, his productive
investments in real estate in New York,
and elsewhere in the country, employed
most of his attention, especially in
his latter years, when his wealth
increased rapidly with the growth of
the city. " Every year," says his biog
rapher already cited, "was adding to
his fortune — at first, almost impercepti
bly, but, as the mass rolled on, it
n.— 5

gathered up upon a greater surface, and
increased more rapidly. Few very
great fortunes were ever acquired more
in accordance with the laws of aggre--
gation than Mr. Astor's; but a small
portion of it was added by accident or
lucky hits, or great- speculations of any
kind. He was its sole and systematic
architect, and constructed the edifice on
the best foundations and in the fairest
proportions."1 At the time of his
death, which occurred in the city of
New York, on the 29th of March,
1848, his property was estimated as
the largest which had been accumulated
in America, exceeding by some mil
lions that of Girard.
By the terms of his will special pro
vision was made, in a bequest of four
hundred thousand dollars, for the erec
tion and endowment of a free public
library — the institution, in the city of
New York, which, thus supported by
his liberality, bears the name of the
Astor Library. It was a design of his
latter years, which he would doubtless
have carried out in his lifetime had he
not been pressed by accumulated busi
ness and growing infirmities. He had,
in considering the project, the valuable
assistance of friends who knew well
the importance of the object and the
way it should be carried out; for it
was Mr. Astor's good fortune to possess,
in the, acquaintance of men like Wash
ington Irving, Dr. Cogswell, Mr. Hal-
leck, Albert Gallatin and others, the
best stimulus to his powerful intellect.
He took delight in their society, and
the Astor Library may be considered,
1 United States Magazine.

38

JOHN JACOB ASTOR.

in one light, a monument of this inti
macy. "Desiring to render a public
benefit to the city of New York, and
to contribute to the advancement of
useful knowledge, and the general good
of society," is the language of his will,
in the preamble of the bequest ; and cer
tainly, as the event has already proved,
he could not have secured these ob
jects in any more welcome way. The
library thus founded, and its original
dimensions doubled by the continued
liberality of his son, has within a very
few years taken its place, not only at
the head of similar institutions in the
city, but in the country-; — a result owing
to the fidelity with which the trust has
been carried out, and especially to the
devoted and disinterested services of
its librarian or superintendent, Dr. Jo
seph G. Cogswell, whose appointment
to the control of the work was made
according to the expressed wish of the
testator. A number of years before
Mr. Astor's death, Dr. Cogswell was
employed in bibliographical studies
preparatory to the work, forming a
highly valuable collection of books in
this department, which he has since
presented to the library. This, rather
than the thousand volumes purchased

during the lifetime of Mr. Astor, was
the real foundation of the library'.
When the work was fairly begun to
be carried out, it was on this basis
of preparation rapidly extended in the
most satisfactory manner. Most public
libraries in their Origin are chance med
leys, the aggregate of various acci
dental purchases or donations. Not so
this. Minerva-like, it started into
being in full panoply, each division
being duly considered and fairly pro
vided for. It is thus the most symmet
rical library in the country ; its wealth
being duly apportioned to each section
of literature and science. J£ any pre
ference is shown, it is a general one for
the more valuable and less accessible
costly European works of original au
thority, the great standards of know
ledge, whence the more popular manuals
are drawn. An American author en
gaged in the composition of a work
well calculated to prove the resources
of a large library, Mr. Parke Godwin,
in the preface to his history of France,
records his acknowledgments with the
remark, that the countiy possesses, at
last, one library where a student may
apply that comprehensive test, the veri
fication of the quotations of Gibbon.

m

/¦'r.i/ri tiie , input, 1/ pujj-fJiiiy fiy , '/t,,p/,,p m /fi,'pt>s.Y&v.-t,,jh, ,</ ,/«¦ pul'li.-'/h-r,:
JiAiuotmJ'iy,", (V,. .iVblintaurs, Now Yen*..
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JAMES KENT.

Tins eminent jurist, whose services
on the bench, no less than his important
contributions to the literature of his
profession, have secured him the grati
tude of his countrymen, presents a pleas
ing subject for biography. It is true
there is little of incident to relate, and
of what might be gathered we have
but scanty materials, in the absence of
the promised family memoirs. But in
all that is known and remembered of
Kent, one impression is predominant :
that of a man of singular simplicity
and purity of character — worthy, in
deed, to rank in these respects, as well
as in his legal character, with his dis
tinguished contemporaries, Chief Jus
tice Marshall and Justice Story.
James Kent was born in the town
of Fredericks, Putnam County, State
of New York, among the Highlands
of the Hudson, near the borders of
Connecticut, on the thirty-first of July,
1763. His grandfather, the Eev. Eli-
sha Kent, a well known and esteemed
clergyman of Connecticut, had removed
to the region in 1740, and resided
there till his death. His father, Moss
Kent, was bred to the law and prac
tised the profession, which divided his
attention, at the time of the birth of
his son, with the farm on the banks
of the Croton, where he resided. The

influences of nature in this beautiful
spot were not likely to be lost upon
the heart of a sensitive child. In his
later years he dwelt upon those associ
ations of his youth in his conversation
with his intimate friends. A pleasing
instance of these recollections has been
preserved by his friend and eulogist
the late Judge John Duer, who was
called upon to discharge a debt to his
memory in the delivery of a discourse
on his life, character and public ser
vices, before the judiciary and bar of
the city and State of New York. In
this interesting tribute the following
passage occurs. The home, in the city
of New York, of Chancellor Kent, we
should premise, during his last years
was on Union Park, where a fountain
fed by his native stream, the Croton,
which had been brought to pour its
life-giving refreshment through the
great city, leaped before his eyes.
"Several times," says Judge Duer,
" within the last three years of his life,
when the fountain that adorns the park
in front of his late residence was in its
fullest action, and the waters of his
native river, as if instinct with life and
voluntary motion, rose in strength and
majesty before him, several times have
I known him approach the windows of
his library in which we were then sit

40

JAMES KENT.

ting, and there break forth into warm
expressions of admiration and delight.
It was evident that the spectacle filled
his mind with the most agreeable and
varied emotions ; for while it recalled,
as he said, the quiet scenes and simple
pleasures of his youth, it reminded him
of the vast progress that his country
had since made in the noblest arts and
truest enjoyments of social and civilized
life. It was evident at such times that
his boyhood and youth, his manhood
and age, were all present to his mind
and memory ; and it was his high pri
vilege — such had been the course of
his life — it was his high privilege that
when thus recalled, he could dwell
with feelings of unmingled satisfaction
and devout thoughtfulness on each
period of his existence. It is not sur
prising that at such times a serene
light — the serene light of a serious and
chastened joy — spread over his venera
ble features; for it was evident that
his thoughts and affections rose in
grateful adoration to the Author of his
being, as the source and fountain of all
the blessings — the many great and
peculiar blessings — that throughout
the progress and in each stage of his
life, it had been his lot to enjoy."
Earnest and ample provision wras
made by the father for the education of
his son. He was placed at the age of five
at an English school • at Norwalk, Con
necticut, where he lived with his mater
nal grandfather, a physician. At nine
he was transferred to Pawling's, in
Dutchess County, to a school where he
received some instruction in Latin,
which was subsequently improved by
the Eev. Ebenezer Baldwin, who kept

a Latin school at Danbury, and he had
other special instructors by whom he
was qualified for admission to Yale
College, the freshman class of which
he entered in 1777. Thus carefully
nurtured with that moral as well as in
tellectual preparation of the olden time
in which clergymen, as in this case, so
frequently bore a part — a youth of in
genuous disposition and studious hab
its, he was well adapted to run his new
race with vigor. His college course,
however, fell upon the troubled scenes
of the Eevolution, and the British
troops taking possession of New Ha
ven in his sophomore year, the college
was for a while necessarily broken
up. Falling in, during this interval
of forced leisure, for the first time —
he was then only sixteen — with a
copy of Blackstone's Commentaries,
he seized upon this masterly introduc
tion to legal science with avidity ; his
genius was thus early revealed to him
self, and he resolved to devote himself
to the profession of the law. Eeturn-
ing to college when its exercises were
resumed, he received his degree of
Bachelor of Arts in 1781, and immedi
ately entered the office of Egbert Ben
son, at Poughkeepsie. This eminent
lawyer, the friend of Washington, Jay
and Hamilton, an enlightened patriot
of the Eevolutionary and constitutional
era, then held the office of Attorney
General of the State, and his influence
and example were well calculated to
strengthen the manly instincts of his
pupil. Kent was admitted to the bar in
1785, and shortly after began practice
with Mr. Gilbert Livingston, at the

JAMES KENT.

41

same time taking to himself a wife,
Miss Elizabeth Bailey, who became the
sharer of his rising fortunes, and the
delight and protection of his long
career of successful exertion. Before
the latter, however, could be said to be
fairly entered upon, there was the usual
period of discipline and probation com
mon to the young lawyer to be encoun
tered. Kent met.it with all cheerful
ness and diligence. The largest part,
if not always the most important, of a
man's education, is the instruction
which he gives himself. This was per
haps truer in the early days of Kent
than in our Own. Though he had the
honOr of a diploma from Yale, he was
but meagrely instructed in the Greek
and Latin classics, and he himself was
perfectly aware of the deficiency. He
had read in these languages, in his col
legiate course, only the Greek Testa
ment, and limited portions of Virgil,
Horace and Cicero; To make amends,
and give himself a good working
knowledge of the tongues, he divided
his day systematically, and managed .to
secure four hours for the purpose before
breakfast. Two of these he gave to
Greek, and two to Latin. The midday
was assigned to the law, and two
hours of the afternoon were given to
the French. He read Horner^ Xeno-
phon and Demosthenes, we are told,
with great delight. To misceEaneous
reading, if we may apply so general
vague, and unsatisfactory a term to his
excellent special acquisitions, he was
always devoted. He was an earnest
student of the poetry of England, and
her best prose literature, and an ardent
devourer of books of travel.

Kent came upon the stage at a time
well qualified to develop a great con
stitutional lawyer; for the period of
his legal career embraced the origin
and growth of the Constitution itself.
and his early intimacies were with men
who understood well its principles, and
were sharers in its formation. He
attended the debates at Poughkeepsie
of the convention which sat upon its
adoption, and listened to the brilliant
arguments of Hamilton. The princi
ples of the Federalist we may pre
sume that he studied with earnestness,
while he watched the development of
party interests through the country.
"He became and declared himself a
federalist, and this name (continues
Judge Duer) as expressing most clearly
and fully the true nature Of his politi
cal creed, he gloried throughout his
life to retain and avow." His friend
ship for Hamilton was both a cause
and consequence of these convictions,
and it was never interrupted. It was
by Hamilton's advice, we are told, that
he first , directed his attention to his
profitable study of the French Jurists.
We find him now engaging in public
life. He was twice elected a member
of the State Assembly, in 1790 and
1792, and was recognized as a promi
nent leader of the federal party. His
course on the disputed election for
governor, when George Clinton Was
maintained in office over his rival, Jay,
who it was alleged had* the majority
vote of the State, a division of opinion
resulting from the destruction of the
votes of a county, secured to him the
warm support of the disappointed can
didate. To the " discriminating judg-

42

JAMES KENT.

ment and steady friendship of John
Jay he owed," says" Judge Duer, " his
elevation to nearly all the offices that
he subsequently held."
In 1793 he was nominated to Con
gress in Dutchess County, but, owing
to a change in the local politics, lost his
election — a result which was immedi
ately followed by his removal to New
York. Here he encountered some diffi
culty in his straitened fortunes ; but if
practice was slow in coming, his legal
abilities were appreciated by the dis
cerning. The trustees of Columbia
College appointed him within the year
professor of law in that institution, and
we find him in November, 1794, com
mencing his course with an Introduc
tory of signal ability. This was pub
lished by the trustees, and in the
course of a year he issued in a volume
three " Dissertations " preliminary to
his course on the common law, embrac
ing the discussion of important topics
of the constitutional history of the
United States, and of the law of
nations. The date of the introductory lecture
gave the orator a special ground of ap
peal for the importance of his theme.
It will mark, also, the large period over
which the labors of Kent were extend
ed. In 1794 Europe was in agitation
with problems which the intelligence
and foresight of American patriotism
had already solved, and that solution
of the novel 'questions was receiving
due attention abroad. How important
then that the youth of America should
be instructed in their privileges at
home, especially as the whole guardian
ship of the public welfare was intrusted

without reserve to the people. The
orator pointed to law as the first tutor
of liberty to the founders of the State,
and drew the inference that the rudi
ments of a legal and senatorial educa
tion in our country should be drawn
from our own history and constitutions.
He then passed to the assertion of the
value of courts of justice as " the pro
per and intended guardians of our
limited constitutions against the fac
tions and encroachments of the legisla
tive body," as if in earnest of the im
portant aid he was to render this great
cause in his subsequent career. He
was but thirty, it should be remem
bered when he accepted the professor
ship of which this address was the first
fruits. The three dissertations treated
of the theory, history and duties of
civil government ; the history of the
American Union and the law of nations.
The delivery of these and other lectures
in the course, and the publication of
part of them, though neither was so
successful as to be continued at the
time, laid the foundation of the author's
reputation. Both were to be resumed
afterwards — the college lectures and
the commentaries. Happily the origin
ator lived himself to reap the fruit of
his early labors.
In the meantime, in February, 1796,
Kent received a welcome addition to
his means in the appointment, by Gov
ernor Jay, of Master in Chancery, an
office then lucrative, and he was the
same year chosen a member of the New
York legislature by a city constituency.
An address which he delivered before
the State Society for the Promotion of
Agriculture, Arts and Manufactures, at

JAMES KENT.

43

its anniversary in New York, also gave
him an opportunity of making the pub
lic acquainted with his enlightened
perceptions of the material welfare of
the country. To his office of Master in
Chancery was joined the following
year that of recorder of the city, and
from the two he derived a considerable
income. In 1798 he was still further
befriended by Jay in the appointment
of junior judge of the Supreme Court,
and though it was at some cost of his
emoluments in relinquishing the posts
which he held, it was with remarkable
discretion and self-knowledge that he
accepted the new position. He now
changed his residence to Poughkeepsie,
and subsequently to Albany, which
continued his home till 1823, nearly a
quarter of a century.
The reforms which he introduced
into the practice of his court were of
eminent service to the public, and have
gained him the highest eulogies of the
bar. Before his day there had been no
written opinions or any standard re
ports of decisions. He began by writ
ing out his opinions in all reserved
cases, and brought t® his work such
acumen, and the results of such learned
industry that his brethren on the bench
were compelled to follow his example.
La this he brought to bear his reading
of the civil law and its commentators,
in the various questions arising on per
sonal contracts and commercial and
maritime affairs In 1804 he was
raised to the office of chief justice of the
court, and continued to preside over its
deliberations till his appointment as
Chancellor of the State in 1814.
Of his career as judge we have seve

ral interesting notices from a high legal
authority. On passing through New
York, in 1805, the late Justice Story,
then a rising young lawyer, was at
tracted to the Supreme Court at the
City Hall, where he found Kent on
the bench. He was struck with his
youthful appearance, celerity and acute-
ness, and noticed his " careless manner
of sitting," which seemed to him " to
be the ease of a man who felt adequate
to the exigencies of his station." Two
years later, on a similar visit, he notices
again "his singular plainness and
promptitude." This early perception
of Kent's ability was confirmed by
Story's observation of his decisions and
study of his legal writings. As time
went on, the New York lawyer had no
warmer admirer than the New England
jurist. Both had points of personal
as well as professional contact; in
their amiability, capacity for friendship,
and the purity and intensity of their
domestic life, as well as in that taste
for general culture which has always
been an ornament if not a necessity to
the higher members of the profession.
They were always generous appreciat-
ors of each other's labors, dividing the
field of legal commentary with emula
tion and without envy. Nothing can
be more cordial than the friendly let
ters which passed between them as the
new Volumes of their writings ap
peared. What Kent had accomplished in the
Supreme Court for the common law, he
was destined to renew in the Court of
Chancery. In a review of Johnson's
Eeports, in which his decisions are re
corded, written by Joseph Story for

44

JAMES KENT.

the "North American Eeview," in
1820, he pays this tribute to the ser
vices of Chancellor Kent, his fellow-
laborer in this great work. " He has
been," says he, " long before the public
in a judicial character, which he has
Sustained with increasing reputation—
a, reputation as pure as it is bright.
His life has been devoted sedulously
and earnestly to professional studies.
His researches; have been amidst the
dust and the cobwebs of antiquated
lore, pursued in the unfashionable
pages of the Year Books, and Glan-
yille and Fleta, and Britton, and the
almost classical Bracton. He has dared
to examine the abridgments .of Brook
and Eitzherbert and Statham. He
has drawn deeply from the commercial
law of foreign nations ; the works of
Straccha, and Boccus, and Valin, and
Pothier, and Emerigon, are familiar to
his thoughts and his writings. It re
quired," he. adds, looking at the state
of the chancery bar as it was before
Kent's day, " such a man, with such a
mindj at once liberal, comprehensive,
exact and methodical, always reverenc
ing authorities, and bound by decisions;
true to the. spirit, yet more true to the
letter of the law ; pursuing principles
with a severe and scrupulous logic, yet
blending with them the most persua
sive equity; — it required such a man,
with such a mind, to unfold the doc
trines of chancery in our country and
to settle them upon immovable founda
tions." He so enlarged and improved
the Chancery Court of New York that
under, his administration it may be
said to have been, a new creation. He
was chancellor for but nine years, at

the end of that time being compelled
to resign the office, by the arbitrary
enactment which limited the period of
service to the age of sixty. Never
could the irregular working of this pro
vision be more manifest than in his
case. It found him in the very vigor
of his .powers, with twenty-five years
yet before him, in which he was still
further to illustrate his legal ability
and wisdom, though not in the seat for
which he was perhaps above all men
qualified. Addresses were presented
to him on his leaving office by the
members of the bar at New York, Al
bany, and of the State at large at Uti-
ca — all couched in the warmest terms
of admiration of his judicial acumen,
purity, and rare spirit of personal kind
ness. This very year of his retirement,
when a vacancy on the bench of the
Supreme Court of the United States
occurred, Kent was spoken of for the
appointment. It had been offered by
President Monroe to Mr. Smith Thomp
son, then the Secretary of the Navy,
who for a time held his answer in sus
pense. During this interval Kent was
brought forward, and his merits, spite
of his difference in politics — he be
longed to the old federal party — were
urged by William Wirt, then Attorney
General, in a letter to the President.
He claimed that the worth and moder
ation of Kent would silence even the
uproar of party objection. " Kent," he
wrote, " holds, so lofty a stand every'
where for almost , matchless intellect
and learning, as well as for spotless
purity and high-minded honor and
patriotism, -that. I firmly believe the
nation at large, would approve and ap-

JAMES KENT.

45

plaud the appointment. It would sus
tain itself and soon put down the petty
cavils which might at first assail it.
. . . . He may have been decided
in his political character, but I never
heard that he was intolerant, or that
there was anything like bitterness or
persecution in his composition. His
conversation and manners are indica
tive only of a simplicity almost infan
tile, and of the most perfect kindness
and suavity of disposition." The Pre
sident, however, was not called to de
cide upon this warm-hearted appeal,
Mr. Thompson having entered upon the
office. The termination of his duties as
chancellor led him to take up his resi
dence again in New York, with a view
to giving lessons in the law, and prac
tising his profession. Columbia Col
lege again welcomed him to her courses
of instruction, offering him the profes
sorship of law, which he accepted. In
accordance with this new obligation he
delivered, in 1824, a systematic course
-of lectures, out of which subsequently
grew his Commentaries, embracing the
more important topics of the latter, and
some which are not treated of in that
work. He repeated the lectures in
1825, and after that discontinued the
active duties of his professorship, his
time being taken up in chamber prac
tice and the preparation of his dis
courses for publication. These saw the
light in a first volume, in 1826, followed
by the second and third in the two fol
lowing years, and the fourth in 1830.
Successive editions appeared to the
close of his life, each marked by care
ful revision. ii.— 6

The "Commentaries on American
Law," embrace the consideration of
the law of nations, of the goverment
and constitutional jurisprudence of the
United States, of the various sources
of the municipal law of the several
States, as well of the civil as the com
mon law ; the rights of persons, includ
ing the marriage relations, guardianship
and corporations ; the laws of personal
property, with its various grounds of
title, bailments, contracts, partnership,
marine insurance, and other topics ; the
law of real property, in its origin and
subdivisions, and various limitations —
a vast field, excluding only the laws of
procedure and criminal practice; so
skilfully handled as to become, to the
American student, what the great work
of Blackstone is to the jurisprudence
of England, a clear, lucid, perspicuous
map and guide. The " Commentaries"
are eminently, as noticed by Judge
Duer, a national work, " exhibiting not
only the jurisprudence of the United
States, as derived by their federal union,
but the municipal law, written and
unwritten, of each individual State, on
all the subjects that the work em
braces. The principles and rules of the
common law, applicable to each subject,
are first stated and explained, and then
all the changes that have been made in
particular States by judicial decisions,
or legislative enactment."
Chancellor Kent varied his retire
ment and his legal consultations by an
occasional appearance before the pub
lie, in the delivery of occasional ad
dresses. One of these, occupied with
a narrative of the Eevolutionary affairs
of his State, with a special tribute to

46

JAMES KENT.

the somewhat neglected merits of
Philip Schuyler, was delivered by him
at an anniversary meeting of the New
York Historical Society, in 1828, of
which he had been made President.
He also delivered an address before
the Phi Beta Kappa of Yale College,
and in 1836 an oration, with reminis
cences of his early contemporaries, be
fore the Law Association of New York.
In 1840, he prepared a course of Eng
lish reading for the use of the members
of the Mercantile Library Association,
which has been since reprinted, with
additions by President Charles King,
of Columbia College. The suggestions,
the names of authors, with occasional
comments, are made under the heads
of History, Biography, Travels, Voy
ages, Belles-Lettres, Political and Moral
Science, and the Natural Sciences. The
work of Livy, Kent pronounces " upon
the whole, the greatest and most com
prehensive historical composition of the
ancients, replete with gravity, sincerity,
and picturesque description;" Eollin,
he pronounces prolix and tedious, and
tells how he was glad to escape from it,
at college, " sixty years ago," to Gold
smith's " brief -and enchanting epitome
of Eoman history." He shows an es
pecial acquaintance with the modern
Italian historians, dwelling upon Macchi-
aArelli, "the Tuscan Tacitus," Guicciar-
dini, " the Florentine Thucydides," and
Giannoni's " Civil History of the King.
dom of Naples. He was attracted to

these by their lessons of popular liberty
and the tyranny of faction. In English
history and literature, he shows the
tastes of a gentleman and scholar of the
last generation, when Pope and Dryden
were still admired with unction. Trav
els in all parts of the world especially
engaged his attention. He was a dili
gent reader of them to his last
days. The close of this life, so amiable and
full of peaceful trophies, was happily
spent almost to the last in freedom from
acute disease, and when it finally suc
cumbed, it was at the venerable age of
eighty-four, with moderated, but hardly
diminished powers of enjoyment. Dur
ing the last year, he became a commu
nicant of the Protestant Episcopal
Church, to which he had become pre
viously attached. His death occurred
December 12, 1847. At the meeting
of the Bar of New York, held at the
City Hall, on the occasion, the Hon.
Samuel Jones presided, and resolutions
were offered and supported by Ogden
Hoffman, Benjamin F. Butler, Daniel
Lord, and Hugh MaxwelL The obli
gations of American law to his early
devoted course were dwelt upon, his
leading investigations and applications
of the civil law, his companionship with
Hamilton, Pendleton, Wells, and other
magnates of the profession, his sound
principles of policy, while the elegant
Hoffman, with characteristic fervor
eulogized the virtues of the man.

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JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

John James Audubon, the American
naturalist, was born on the 4th of May,
1780, on a plantation in Louisiana,
which his father, a retired French
naval officer, had made his residence.
The family was in prosperous circum
stances, and the son appears to have
had every advantage of education. He
was early sent to Paris, whence he re
turned to America at the age of seven
teen, with a natural talent for drawing
which he possessed, instructed by the
hand of no less eminent a master than
the painter David. Of the tastes and
aspirations which led him in this direc
tion we may best give the reader an
impression in the words of the pupil
himself. In the "Introductory Ad
dress," a species of autobiographical
sketch or retrospect, dated Edinburgh,
1831, placed as a preface to the letter
press of his great work on ornithology,
the reminiscent writes with characteris
tic enthusiasm : , " I received light and
life in the New World. When I had
hardly yet learned to walk, and to articu
late those first words always so endear
ing to parents, the productions of nature
that lay spread all around were con
stantly pointed out to me. They soon
became my playmates, and before my
ideas were sufficiently formed to enable
me to estimate the difference between

the azure tints of the sky and the eme
rald hue of the bright foliage,! felt
that an intimacy with them, not con
sisting of friendship merely, but bor
dering on frenzy, must accompany my
steps through life ; and now, more
than ever, am I persuaded of the power
of those early impressions. They laid
such hold upon me that, when removed
from the woods, the prairies and the
brooks, or shut up .from the view of
the wide Atlantic, I experienced none
of those pleasures most congenial to
my mind. None but aerial compan
ions suited my fancy. No roof seemed
so secure to me as that formed of the
dense foliage under which the feathered
tribes were seen to resort, or the caves
and fissures of the massy rocks to
which the dark-winged cormorant and
the curlew retired to rest, or to protect
themselves from the fury of the tem
pest. My father generally accompa
nied my steps, procured birds and
flowers for me with great eagerness,
pointed out the elegant movements of
the former, the beauty and softness of
their plumage, the manifestations of
their pleasure or sense of danger, and
the always perfect forms and splendid
attire of the latter. My valued pre
ceptor would then speak of the depart
ure and return of birds with the sea

it

48,

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

sons, and would describe their haunts,
and, more wonderful than all, their
change of livery ; thus exciting me to
Study them, and to raise my mind
toward their great Creator."
There were many steps, however,
between these first half shaped inti
mations of genius and the perfected
scientific naturalist. Enthusiasm will
do much, but only in the way of di
recting sober plodding labors. The
great distinction of the man of genius
is, not that he is able to dispense with
toil, but that he has a fresh, ever-
springing motive within him which
does not permit him to tire at his
work. The labor must still be under
taken and accomplished. Indeed, the
man of genius, while he is continually
shortening the processes is constantly
inventing for himself new trials and
difficulties. The boy was delighted with his
early observations of nature, watching
the birth and growth of birds from
the egg, looking upon them, he says,
" as flowers in the bud." Then came
the desire of acquisition, of possession,
of forming a collection, similar to the
want of a scholar of his own books and
library — though perhaps a more impel
ling motive, with the naturalist who
has a living sympathy with his brute
friends who are dependent on his care.
The bird, too, like the book, was capa
ble c f rewarding attention by the de
velopment of new traits. Yet in one
respect the boOk has an advantage. It
can be studied during the lifetime of
the observer. It does not die and
moulder from our view. Something of
this, as he tells us, was felt by the

young Audubon. Even the prepara
tion of the birds, after death, was oner
ous, and required constant care, and
was subject tc decay as the beauty of
the plumage vanished. "I wished,"
was the longing of the boy naturalist,
" all the productions of nature, but I
wished life with them." The sequel is
told in rather a dramatic way — " I
turned to my father and made known
to him my disappointment and anxiety.
He produced a book of illustrations.
A new life ran in my veins. I turned
over the leaves with avidity ; and al
though what I saw was not what I
longed for, it gave me a desire to copy
nature." To copy nature — it is in
three words the story of his future
life. That perception of nature in its liv
ing forms was so keen that it made the
youth the severest critic of his own
labors, impelling him to work and
compelling him to destroy. His pen
cil, he says, " gave birth to a family of
cripples. So maimed were most of
them that they resembled the mangled
corpses on a field of battle, compared
with the integrity of living men."
One expression strikes us as of singu
lar force and felicity. " The worse my
drawings were, the more beautiful did
I see the originals." So he plodded
on, frequently dissatisfied, but never
discontinuing his work. It was a sure
sign of his mental growth that for a
long time every successive birthday
witnessed a grand incremation of these
immature sketches. Such was his
youthful experience when he returned
from France, instructed, as we have
seen, by David, leaving the fine arts

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

49

of the Old World, its wealth of galler-
ies and thousand charms of history, to
devote himself to simple nature in the
New. His father gave him the opportunity
of gratifying his tastes for rural life
and study, by presenting him a farm
in Pennsylvania, richly furnished with
woods and evergreens, and watered by
a running stream, where the free fea
thered inhabitants were at his door.
But a long time was yet to elapse
before he was fully conscious to him
self of his claim upon the world as a
naturalist, who' had a story to tell the
public worth listening to, and some
thing to show worth seeing. These
upward and outward struggles of na
ture are the great lessons of biography.
All can understand the finished work ;
but men are every day making mis
takes in their judgment of the traits
of character, and processes which lead
to excellence. " For a period of twenty
years," writes Audubon, " my life was
a succession of vicissitudes. I tried
various branches of commerce, but
they all proved unprofitable, doubtless
because my whole mind was ever filled
with my passion for rambling and ad
miring those objects of nature from
which alone I received the purest grati
fication. I had io struggle against the
will of all who at that period called
themselves my friends. I must here,
however, except my wife and children.
The remarks of my other friends irri
tated me beyond endurance, and break
ing through all bonds, I gave myself
entirely up to my pursuits. Any one
unacquainted with the extraordinary
desire which I then felt of seeing and

judging for myself, would doubtless
have pronounced me callous to every
sense Of duty, and regardless of every
interest. I undertook long and tedious
journeys, ransacked the woods, the
lakes, the prairies, and the shores of
the Atlantic. Years were spent away
from my family. Yet, reader, will you
believe it, I had no other object in
view than simply to enjoy the sight of
nature." In one of those delightful sketches
of natural scenery with which the de
scriptive volumes of his great work is
interspersed, Audubon pauses to ask
of Irving and Cooper to describe the
virgin country of the Ohio and Miss
issippi, which in twenty years he had
seen transformed from an unbroken
wilderness into the thickly peopled
abode of civilization. It was the fell
city of Audubon that his attention was
turned to the observation of nature
while her early features yet remained
unchanged, that he was the immediate
successor of Wilson, a kindred spirit,
and a contemporary of Daniel Boone.
His description of the scenery of the
Ohio, in the account of the journey
with his wife and infant son, from his
Pennsylvania home to a new residence
at Henderson, Kentucky, about the
year 1810, shows the naturalist to have
had an appreciative eye for the beau
ties of the landscape in his quest of its
wild animal occupants.
We thus find the young naturalist,
who as yet made no pretensions to the
name, happily married, leaving his At
lantic home for a new residence in the
West. He was for a time established
as a trader at Henderson, on the Ohio,

50

. JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

in the western portion of Kentucky,
and at Louisville, all the while occu
pying himself with his gun in his
favorite rambles and studies of orni
thology. An incident of his mercantile
iife at the latter place deserves men
tion in his biography. He was one
day waited upon in his counting-room
by Alexander Wilson, the devoted
naturalist, the pioneer of American
forests, and solicited for a subscription
to the " American Ornithology." Nei
ther at the moment appears to have
had any previous knowledge of the
pursuits of the other. Audubon exam
ined the engravings of Wilson with
interest, and the latter was still more
surprised to witness the drawings of
birds in the portfolio of a western
storekeeper. Wilson asked if it was
his intention to publish, and appeared
still more perplexed when he learnt
that so patient a student had no such
object. He borrowed the drawings to
examine during his stay in the town,
and was introduced to birds new to
him in the neighborhood, in hunting
with his chance acquaintance. Audu
bon, who as yet had not " taken unto
the height the measure of himself,"
placed all his drawings at the disposal
of his visitor, with the result of his re
searches, proposing a correspondence,
and stipulating only in return for an
acknowledgment, in the published
work, of what came from his pencil.
It was perhaps well for both that the
liberal offer was not accepted ; for each
Avas strong enough to stand by himself,
and the world can look upon the inde
pendent labors of both with an admira*
tion which it has been taught by both

to cultivate. They were alike pupils
in the great school of nature, taking
their lessons in the wilderness, encoun-
tering, Wilson particularly, more, ene
mies in the indifference of the world
than the " winter and rough weather"
to which they voluntarily subjected
themselves. It was not till 1824, on a visit to
Philadelphia, when he was introduced
by Dr. Mease to Prince Charles Lucien
Bonaparte, who, an accomplished na
turalist himself, saw the value of Au
dubon's labors, and animated him by
his encouragement, that he set seriously
about the work of thorough prepara-
tion for publication. He was presented
by the Prince to the Natural History
Society of Philadelphia, and, proceed
ing to New York, was received with
kindness by the inhabitants as he made
his way "by that noble stream, the
Hudson, to glide over our broad lakes
and seek the wildest solitudes of the
pathless and gloomy forests." It was
at this time, he tells us, and in these
scenes, that he first entertained the
thought of visiting Europe to obtain
the means and carry out the plan of
multiplying his drawings by engraving.
Eighteen months were passed in addi
tional preparation, his family mean
while leaving "their home in Louisiana
before he was ready to break ground
in the Old World.
In 1826, at the age of forty-six, una
ble to obtain the facilities for publish
ing his work in the United States, he
set sail for England, bearing with him
the drawings from original studies,
upon which he had expended so much
care. Twice in this season of pupilage

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

51

he had been almost driven to despair.
It was while he was a resident of Ohio
that, returning from a visit to Phila
delphia, he found two hundred of his
original drawings, representing nearly
a thousand birds, which he had left
carefully stored in a box, had been de
stroyed in his absence by a family of
Norway rats, which had taken possess
ion of the case. " The burning heat,"
he writes, "which instantly rushed
through my brain, was too great to be
endured without affecting the whole
of my nervous system. I slept not for
several nights, and the days passed
like days of oblivion, until the animal
powers being recalled into action,
through the strength of my constitu
tion, I took up my gun,. my note-book,
and my pencil,' and went forth to the
woods as gaily as if nothing had hap
pened. I felt pleased that I might
now make much better drawings than
before : and, ere a period not exceeding
three years had elapsed, I had my
portfolio filled again." The second
trial was when Lawson, the engraver
of the works of Lucien Bonaparte, at
Philadelphia, pronounced it impossible
to engrave from his drawings. It is by
such trials that men of genius are dis
ciplined—trials which it requires ge
nius to undergo.
It was not unnatural that the travel
ler should experience some despondency
as he approached the shores of Eng
land. He was well armed with letters
of introduction, but Europe had thus
far received too little in his department
of science from America to "be greatly
agitated at his arrival. His doubts
were multiplied as he read the unsym-

pathizing faces in the crowded streets
of Liverpool. But how could they be
interested in an unknown stranger?
At home the hunter naturalist could
hide his sorrows in the forest, as the
scholar takes refuge in his library ; but
what could he do in this busy thorough
fare? "To the woods," he says with
feeling simplicity, " I could not betake
mysel f, for there were none near." But
in a moment the scene was changed to
success and felicity. The merchant
princes and men of science of Liverpool
took their visitor by the hand; his
drawings were exhibited and he was
on the high road to fame. An equally
friendly reception awaited him at Man
chester, and at Edinburgh he was re
ceived with hearty welcome by the
magnates of the University, Jameson,
Wilson, Brown, Monroe and others, and
by such celebrities as Sir Walter Scott,
Captain Hall, and the rest who made
up the brilliant society of the culti
vated upper classes of the northern
metropolis. Nor was it an idle tribute
of men of taste and fashion in litera
ture. The compliments which he re
ceived were accompanied by substan
tial rewards in subscriptions to his
undertaking; though the manufactur-
ing wealth of Leeds and Manchester
was able to render more of this mate
rial assistance than learned Edinburgh.
Of the one hundred and eighty names
appended to the first volume of orni
thological biography, accompanying
the first instalment of one hundred
plates, the number of subscribers fur
nished by these manufacturing towns is
most creditable to the taste and liber
ality of the inhabitants. But it is, per-

52

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

haps, still more to the* credit of Ameri.
ca, whose wealth was less abundant,
that nearly one-half the whole sub
scription was furnished him at home.
The unprecedented success of the
popular American subscription to the
work of Agassiz on natural history of
the present time, shows that the liberal
ity of the country keeps pace with its
riches. Audubon commenced the publica
tion of his work, " The Birds of Ame
rica, from Drawings made in the Unit
ed States and their Territories," in
Edinburgh, whence it was transferred
to the hands of the engraver, Eobert
Havell, of London, by whom it was
thenceforth executed. The drawings
were in the engraver's hands before a
single subscriber was obtained; but
when the publication was commenced,
in 1827, twenty-five plates were issued
regularly every year, and the close of
1830 saw the first volume completed.
The work was issued in numbers,, at
the subscription price of two guineas
each, a number containing five plates.
The entire series of four hundred and
tliirty-five plates was issued to subscri
bers for one thousand dollars.
After laying the foundation of his
great enterprise in England, Mr. Audu
bon visited Paris, where he was com
plimented by the interest taken in his
work by the distinguished Cuvier and
the savans of the metropolis. The ex
traordinary dimensions of his pictures,
then a novelty, enabling him to repre
sent every lird of the size of life, the
fidelity and lifelike air of his drawing
and coloring, the interest of these new
additions to science, were well adapted

to secure admiration. K the undertak
ing^ said , Cuvier, were carried out,
America would surpass the Old World
in magnificence of execution. Encour
aged by these glowing tributes, which
were fairly extorted by his brilliant
labors, Audubon having fairly intro
duced his work to the public, and seen
the successive numbers improving un
der the hands of his engraver, returned
in 1829 for a hurried visit to the Unit
ed States, " scouring the woods " as
usual, for new objects . for his pencil.
In the spring of the next year he was
in London with his family, and in 1831
was once more in America, intent upon
a comprehensive tour of observation and
discovery. He procured letters from the
Department at Washington to the mil
itary outposts, explored the Carolinas
and Florida, and following the birds in
their migrations, proceeded northward
to Maine and Labrador, everywhere en
riching his portfolio with the results of
his explorations. The sketches of his
travelling in Florida and Labrador,
like the notices of his western tours,
abound in pleasing passages of descrip
tion. The contrast of these several
scenes adds not a little to their charms ;
while, interspersed with the exact de
scription of birds, they infuse a personal
human interest among the necessarily
formal details of ornithological science.
Audubon thus passed nearly three
years " of travel and research " in Ame
rica before he returned to England,
where he was greeted by his completed
second volume, one-half of his project
ed work. • A third appeared in due
time, and the fourth and last was fin
ished in 1838.

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

53

After this the author was at liberty
to make his permanent home in Ameri
ca, and consequently in 1839 returned
to the United . Siateis, and became the
purchaser of a country seat in the im
mediate vicinity of New York, on the
banks of the Hudson, on the upper
portion of the island on which the city
is situated. To bring the results of his
great work within the reach of a larger
number of the public, he employed
himself upon its reduction. This was
published in New York in seven octavo
volumes, between 1840 and 1844. Nor
had the author meantime relinquished
his active habits of exploration. In
company with his sons Victor Gifford
and John Woodhouse he traversed the
remoter regions of the country, collect
ing materials for a new Work on which
he now became engaged, on the Vivi
parous Quadrupeds of North America.
Besides the aid of his sons, he had the
assistance in this work of his friend,
the accomplished naturalist, the Eev.
John Bachman of South Carolina. It
was in size similar to the original " Or
nithology," and was completed in three
volumes in 1848. This was the last
publishing enterprise which the author
lived to see completed, a smaller edi
tion of the work having appeared since
his death.
There was something very pleasing
in the fine manly appearance of the
venerable disciple of nature in his last
years — for age treated him kindly, and
he carried with him nearly to the last,
a fresh, buoyant energy of his own.
His time, when not passed in his favor
ite woods, was spent in the familiar
labors of the pencil, and in the enjoy-
n. —

ment, surrounded by his family and
friends, of his suburban rural retreat:
He had the rare satisfaction, also, of
seeing his fame established throughout
the world, and of witnessing, as his
active powers failed, the continuance
of his labors in the hands of his sons,
devoted to his science and art. His
last perception of fading consciousness
was a few days before his death, when
one of his sons held before him some
of his most cherished drawings. He
died on the 27th January, 1851.
For a personal description of the
man in his prime, we may cite the elo
quent tribute of one who had much in
common with Audubon in the genial,
unfettered love of nature, and in cer
tain poetic impulses which pervade
alike the prose writings of each. In
enthusiasm for the woods and fields,
Professor Wilson, or Christopher North,
as he delighted to call himself in this
holiday capacity, was the equal of Au
dubon. There was much, too, alike in
their personal appearance— the flowing
mane of hair, the careless hunter's
dress, the eagle eye. Wilson, in the
passage alluded to, is "reviewing the
" Ornithological Biography," on the
publication of the first volume in 1831
He thus introduces the author :
" When, some five years ago, we first
set eyes on him, in a party of literati,
in 'stately Edinborough throned on
crags,' he was such an American woods
man as took the shine out of us mod
ern Athenians. Though dressed,' of
course, somewhat after the fashion of
ourselves, his long raven locks hung
curling over his shoulders, yet unshorn
from the wilderness. They were shad-

54

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

ed across his open forehead with a sim
ple elegance, such as a civilized Christ
ian might be supposed to give his ' fell
of hair,' when practising ' every man
his own perruquier' in some liquid
mirror in the forest glade, employing,
perhaps, for a comb, the claw of the
bald eagle. His sallow, fine-featured
face bespoke a sort of wild independ
ence; and then such an eye, keen as
that of the falcon ! His foreign accent
and broken English speech — for he is
of French descent — removed him still
further out of the commonplace circle
of this everyday world of ours ; and
his whole demeanor — it might be with
us partly imagination — was colored to
our thought by a character of conscious
freedom and dignity, which he had
habitually acquired in his long and
lonely wanderings among the woods,
where he had lived in the uncompanied
love and delight of nature, and in the
studious observation of all the ways of
her winged children, that forever flut
tered over his paths, and roosted on
the tree at whose feet he lay at night,
beholding them still the sole images
that haunted his dreams." 1
It is understood that Audubon left
behind him a work of autobiography.
The passages which he has given from
his journals in his Ornithological Bio
graphy would lead us to expect a book
of rare interest. These relate, of course,
mainly to incidents of his travels un
dertaken in pursuit of his favorite
science. They have the charm of the
1 Blackwood's Magazine, vol. xix. p. 11.

French temperament, that happy talent
of observation and description which
harmonizes so admirably the simple
and rude elements of frontier rural life;
that art of: pleasure- — that determina
tion of pleasing and being pleased, so
characteristic of the race. The move
ments of Audubon among this humble
society seem to have caught something
of the easy gracefulness of his own
feathered songsters. He appears never
insensible to common blessings, never
long depressed at the difficulties of his
situation. There is a felicity in many of
these little narratives which added new
interest in the productions of his pen
to the faithful delineations of his pencil
As an index of the wealth of
beauty in his pictorial works, we
might contrast his accounts of the
Bird of Washington, a species of the
eagle tribe which he prided himself
upon being the first to depict, and
the Louisiana mocking-bird, which he
has so charmingly described. But who
has not seen the engravings of the
Birds of America — a work indeed too
expensive for popular circulation in its
original form, the somewhat exclusive
possession of the wealthy, and chosen
as a rare and costly gift by Govern
ment to foreign states ; but familiar to
the eye in our public libraries and gal
leries ? A glance at the ample pages
will show the patient study of a life
time, the result of years of watching
and investigation of the habits of
birds, their peculiar traits, their exqui
site plumage, their arch attitudes, and
even their favorite surroundings.

^

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Joh''.::oii.-|:i-y X Cu. 'PuiliHliers. WewYmk.

DE WITT CLINTON.

Oir a previous page, in the notice of
Governor George Clinton, the " soldier
and statesman of the ^Revolution," we
have traced the history of the Clinton
family through their remarkable Ame
rican progenitor, Charles Clinton, of
New York colonial memory, to their
remote European ancestry. We are
now to follow the fortunes of another
branch of the family, which perpetuat
ed -its honors with increasing fame to a
third generation on this soil. A race
which has ' given two • distinguished
governors to New York,' each of whom
stood in a certain direct relation to the
Presidency, must excite a biographic
interest General James Clinton, the brother
of Governor George Clinton, and father
of De Witt Clinton, was born at the
homestead in Little Britain, in a part
of Ulster , County now included in Or
ange, in 1736. He early acquired a
knowledge of military affairs, and was
in actual service with, his father and
brother in the old French war at Fron-
tenac. When the peace of Versailles con
cluded hostilities, he still kept an eye on
the profession of arms, and rose by his
merits in the colonial service to impor
tant frontier commands. He married,
at this time, Mary De Witt, a young
lady of excellent Dutch descent. The

Clinton family, always imbued with
liberal principles, was naturally looked
to by the Whigs of the Eevolution.
James, with his brother, joined the in
fant cause, was appointed to high com
mands in the provincial service, and
speedily engrafted, a brigadier general,
on the army of the United States. He
was with Montgomery in his invasion
of Canada, at Montreal, and gallantly
defended Fort Clinton, by the side of
his brother at Fort Montgomery, when
both, after a valiant resistance were
compelled to yield to the superior
forces of Sir Henry Clinton. James
Clinton was the last man to leave the
works. His escape was one of the
wonders of that hard-fought day. He
was severely wounded by a bayonet
thrust, as he fled, pursued by the bul
lets of the enemy. His servant was
killed by his side. Taking his bridle
from his horse, he slid dowh the rocky
precipice of the fort a hundred feet, to
the ravine, crept along the bank, his
flowing blood staunched by a fall into
the river, till morning, when he met
with a horse on which he rode sixteen
miles to his home. He was engaged
in other military services in the State,
and was at the final surrender at York-
town. After participating in the hon
ors of Washington's entry into New

E5

56

DE WITT CLINTON.

York, he retired to his country-seat in
Orange County, where, dying at the
age of seventy-six, his remains were
laid in a tomb inscribed by his son —
" He was a good man and a sincere
patriot, performing, in the most exem
plary manner, all the duties of life:
and he died, as he lived, without fear
and without reproach."
His son, De Witt Clinton, was born
at the family residence, at Little Bri
tain, March 2, 1769. His early educa
tion was under the care of the Presby
terian pastor of the settlement, and at
the Academy of Mr. Addison, at
Kingston. At the close of the war he
was a youth of fifteen, on his way to
Princeton, when he was arrested at
New York by the efforts to revive the
seat of learning, King's College, in that
city, whose short existence in the colo
nial era had been attended with dis
tinguished success. His uncle, George
Clinton, the governor of the State,
took an active part in this reorganiza
tion, which was effected in 1784. De
Witt Clinton was the first matriculated
student of the revived institution,
Which now bore the name of Columbia
College. He entered the junior class,
and in April, 1786, received his degree
at the first Commencement after the
Revolution. Forty-one years after,
shortly before his death; in an address
before the alumni, Clinton paid a grate
ful tribute to the founders of the ris
ing college ; to Cochran, the classical
scholar, to Kemp, the professor of ma
thematics and natural philosophy, to
Benjamin Moore, subsequently the
bishop, whose benignity added a grace
to his department of rhetoric. Coch

ran lived to delight in his pupil, and
to 'lay his wealth of praise, in well
chosen learned phraseology, upon his
grave. "He did everything well;
upon the whole, he seemed likely to
me to prove, as he did prove, a high
ly useful and practical man ; what the
Eomans call civiUs and the Greeks
politikos, a useful citizen, qualified to
counsel and direct his fellow citizens to
honor and happiness." To the ingenu
ity and insight ; of Kemp, particularly
in his inculcation of the value of canal
navigation, in internal improvements, a
marked influence has been attributed
upon the career of his pupil. There is
one habit of his college years which
accompanied him through life, one with
which few men who make their mark
in the world at the present day are
able to dispense — the practice of study
ing with the pen in hand. He thus
acquired an exact mental discipline,
and laid the foundation of that accu
mulated stock of literature and science
which was the solace and support of
his after career.
On the completion of these prepara-
tory lessons — for they were but prepa-
ratory — Clinton was always a student
and learner — he engaged in the study
of the law iii the office of Samuel
Jones, an eminent counsellor of the
time, the father of the late Chancellor
Jones. It was the season of the adop
tion of the Federal Constitution, and
the young student was an anxious
watcher of the debates at the session
of the Eatifying Convention at Pough-
keepsie. His uncle, the governor, it
will be remembered, sat at the head of
that body, and was one of the most

DE WITT CLINTON.

57

resolute opponents of the measure.
The nephew was thus early in corres
pondence with politicians in New York,
to whom he communicated the progress
of the debate. He shared the views
of his uncle, his jealousy of consolida
tion, and fears of the loss of State pri
vileges, and had already signalized his
course as an Anti-Federalist by his
series of letters signed " A Country
man." in reply to the papers of Jay,
Hamilton, and Madison. The oppo
nents of the Constitution were, how
ever, compelled to yield their preju
dices to the necessities of the case, un
der cover of urgent pleas for proposed
amendments. De Witt Clinton was now ;taken
into the employ of the governor
as his secretary, and thus made his
entrance upon public, affairs in 1789.
In 1794 he was made secretary of the
Board of 'Regents of the University,
and in this capacity drew the Report
in favor of the incorporation of Union
College, containing the earliest official
recommendation of the establishment
of schools by the Legislature, for the
common branches of education.1 He
was also secretary of the Board of
Commissioners of the State fortifica
tions. In these appointments he had
the example and assistance of his
uncle, always a zealous and enlightened
promoter of the welfare of New York.
This influence ceased when the gover
nor retired from office, in 1795,
when the young Clinton commenced
the practice of the law in New York.
He was brbught in contact with Dr.
- Street's Council of Revision, etc., p. 138.

Hosack and Dr. Mitchill, then profes
sors of botany and chemistry in Colum
bia College, with whom he prosecuted
those studies of natural history which
grew to be great favorites with him,
and in which he became an accom
plished adept. He married at this
time Miss Franklin, the daughter of an
eminent Quaker merchant of New
York. In 1797 he was elected to the
Legislature as a member of the Assem
bly, and in the following year to its
upper house, the Senate, when he was
chosen a member of the Council of Ap
pointment. While in discharge of this
duty, a question arose within this body
as to the right of nomination. It had
been exercised by the Council in oppo
sition to the claim of Governor Clin
ton, and was now reasserted in conflict
with Governor Jay. De Witt Clinton
was opposed to the governor, and his
view of the matter was sustained by
the convention to which the question
was submitted by the Legislature. To
this decision, which cast the power of
the State into the hands of the repub
lican party, is assigned the beginning
Of the course of proscription which
embittered so greatly the subsequent
political career of Clinton. He was
now, however, on the rising tide of
popularity, and in 1802, at the early
age of thirty-three, was appointed
to a vacancy in the Senate of the
United States, where he took his seat
by the side of Gouverneur Morris, his
fellow representative from the State.
Clinton had been two years in the
Senate when he resigned his post to
assume the mayoralty of New York
as the successor of Edward Livingston,

58

DE WITT CLINTON.

He entered upon the duties of this
office in 1803, and with several short
intervals, when he was displaced by
the fluctuations of party, continued to
hold it till 1815. A mayor of New
York at that time differed not only in
the manner of his election, but in
many of his employments, from his
successors of the present day. He had
a degree and variety of power in his
hands_ for which a senatorship might
well be exchanged. He presided at
the meetings of the Common Council,
then sitting in a single body. He ex
ercised also important judicial func
tions as chief judge of the common pleas
and of the criminal court, and at the
head of the police. In all these relations
Clinton was active and efficient; firm
and honest as a judge, resolute and in
trepid in checking riot and preserving
the peace. These were the ordinary
duties of a magistrate. He had others
to perform of his own choosing and
advocacy, growing out of his tastes for
literature and science. Foremost among
these, in point of time and importance,
was the Free School Association, for
which a charter was procured in 1805.
The act speaks of a single school, and
its object was " to provide for the edu
cation of poor children who do not be
long to, or are not provided for, by any
religious society." The undertaking
was stimulated by the success of Lan
caster, with his direct and economical
system in England. His plans were
followed by Clinton and his associates
in New York. Funds were provided
by charitable subscriptions, Clinton
himself soliciting contributions from
loor to door, and the first school was

opened in May, 1806, in a small apart
ment in Bancker street. The corpora
tion of the city then appropriated a
building adjacent to the alms-house for
the purpose, and in 1809 the institu
tion found a permanent lodgment in a
building erected by its funds on the
site of an old arsenal which was grant
ed for the purpose. On the completion
of this building, in 1809, Clinton, as
president of the society, delivered an
opening address, noticeable for his en
lightened interest in the subject of
education, and as a landmark whence
we may measure the progress to the
present gigantic public school system
of the city.
While holding the office of the may
oralty, Clinton was, in 1805, elected a
State senator, which gave him an op
portunity of directly influencing the
Legislature in the promotion of his
favorite civic and philanthropic schemea
Many an act, under which the present
generation enjoys some special privi
lege or benefit, owes its origin to
the sagacity and perseverance of Clin
ton at Albany. The charters of the
Sailor's Snug Harbor, the old Manu
mission Society, the Bloomingdale Hos
pital for the Insane, the first insurance
company of the State, the American
Academy of Arts, of which he was
made president, acts in behalf of the
Orphan Society, and numerous other phi
lanthropic associations;- others for the
benefit of medical science, and generally
relating to everything of importance
to the welfare of the city, originated
with him or were especially intrusted
to his guardianship. In his seat as
senator, in the Court of Errors, he deli

DE WITT CLINTON.

59

vered opinions on questions involving
important principles of constitutional
law and rights of property which
gained the admiration of so compe
tent a critic as Chancellor Kent.
We have enumerated some of the
liberal objects in the advancement of
the city which engaged the attention
of Clinton, at the head of which must
be ranked his personal efforts to secure
the benefits of education to every
struggling child of poverty capable
and willing to receive them. The list
of his good deeds in this second forma
tive era of city life, when New York
was on the eve of that movement
which has since borne her so rapidly to
her proud eminence as a metropolis of
the nation, is not yet complete. We
can hardly mention any liberal enter
prise of the city which does not owe
something to his fostering care and pro
tection. What Franklin, in his gener
ation, did for Philadelphia, De Witt
Clinton, a - half a century later, accom
plished for New York. There is a
period in most institutions when the
first efforts of their originators are
spent ; the enthusiasm of the original
idea is worn off ; the scanty supply of
means exhausted : when an opportune
deliverer is needed to save the labors
of the original projector. Many useful
societies, destined to a long life, pass
through several such stages. De Witt
Clinton interposed with' his friendly
services on more than one crisis of the
kind. He took the languishing Acad
emy of Arts under his protection, ob
tained a charter for it, and a local
habitation in the Government House,
near the Batterv. This institution had

found a zealous friend in its founder
and -first president, Chancellor Livings
ton. On his death, Clinton succeeded
to the vacant chair. He delivered a
discourse before this Academy in 1816.
The Historical Society was another
struggling enterprise to which he ren
dered the most important assistance.
It appealed to him by considerations
of family history and national pride to
which he was never insensible. He
drew up the act of incorporation, and
the report seconding its adoption in
the Legislature, and when it was neces
sary to establish the society on a firmer
pecuniary basis, he prepared an elabo
rate memorial of its aims and objects,
with which he again appealed to that
body, and secured an important grant
in its favor. In 1811 he delivered, at
the anniversary meeting of the society,
a discourse on the history of the Iro
quois or Five Indian Nations of the
State, replete with historical research
and philosophical observation. He was
at this time vice president of the so
ciety. He succeeded to the presidency
in 1817.
The New York Literary and Philo
sophical Society was another institu
tion which called for and received his
aid from the start. He was chosen, its
first president, and opened its public
proceedings with an admirable intro
ductory discourse, not merely abound
ing in scientific information, but instinct
with the zeal and warmth of a lover's
admiration. For natural history he
had a great fondness. Associated with
Mitchill, Hosack, and others, and in
his tours through the State, he devoted
himself to numerous original investiga

60

DE WITT CLINTON.

tions recorded in his papers in the
Transactions of the Society just spoken
of, in his journals, and other publica
tions. The period of these interesting pur
suits also gave -birth to those schemes
of internal improvements connected
with canal navigation, with which the
name of Clinton is indissolubly linked
in his native State. His attention had
early been directed, in the annual mes
sages of his uncle, the first governor, to
the subject of canals in New York.
That enlightened patriot, in 1791,
1792, and 1794, had urged a liberal
policy upon the Legislature in connec
tion with certain northern and western
companies of inland lock navigation.
In a glowing passage of an address de
livered by De Witt Clinton as early as
the last mentioned year, he had pro
phesied the influence of art in changing
the. face of the world.
These early companies, confined to a
limited portion of the State, were at
tended with but little success. In
March, 1810, the Legislature seemed
disposed to take up the matter in ear
nest in the appointment of a committee
of which De Witt Clinton was a mem
ber, with .Gouverneur Morris, Ste
phen Van Eensselaer, Thomas Eddy,
William, North, Simeon De Witt, and
Peter B. Porter, charged with the ex
ploration of the whole route from the
Hudson to Lake Ontario and Lake
Erie. The tour was made, and happily
a private journal kept of its numerous
interesting incidents by De Witt Clin
ton. It remains a most interesting
picture of the condition of the State
just before its great system of improve

ments was undertaken, which must in
crease in value with every succeeding
year as the country recedes from its
primitive aspect. As usual, the obser
ver is intent not merely on the mecha
nical advantages, but the general phy
sical conditions of the region which he
traversed. In 1820 he sketched the
incidents of a similar journey in the
" Letters of Hibernicus on the Natural
History and Internal Eesources of the
State of New York," a genial and ani
mated production of permanent inter
est. The canal was reported favorably
upon by Gouverneur Morris, in behalf
of the commissioners. The Legislature
renewed their powers and added Liv
ingston and Fulton to their council.
In furtherance of its designs, Clinton
and Morris visited Washington to secure
the aid of the United States Govern
ment. President Madison and his cab
inet had other affairs of more pressing
interest before them, and the work was
left to the exertions of Clinton and his
friends in his own State.
Before resuming our brief narrative
of Clinton's connection with the canal
policy of the State, we must briefly
state the chief incidents of his political
career, from which these scientific and
literary pursuits were but diversions.
We have seen him recalled from Con
gress to the mayoralty, and sitting in
the State Senate. In 1811 he was
elected lieutenant governor, and the
following year put in nomination by a
convention of his republican friends in
the Presidential election of 1812, in
opposition to Madison. Failing of his
election, he was placed in a somewhat

_\^_

DE WITT CLINTON.

til

ambiguous position between the advo
cates of the war and its opponents,
which was aggravated by subsequent
party divisions in his State, in the pro
gress of which he was thrown out Of
the mayoralty.
Clinton, it is said, was ambitious of
office ; if so, it was always as a means
to his useful and honorable ends. He
now found means to pursue the latter
even without the former. He now de
termined with his friends to revive
the great canal project which had been
suspended by the war. A meeting of
influential - citizens was called in the
autumn of 1815, at the City Hotel, in
New York, to which he presented a
memorial on the whole subject, demon
strating the practicability of the union
of the Hudson with Lake Erie, setting
forth the various details and enforcing
the vast benefits 'of the work/ Never
was a great undertaking more nobly
heralded than in this convincing docu
ment. It was sent abroad and numer
ously signed by the public, presented
in February, 1816 to the Legislature,
who had now again the subject fully
before them. Clinton was again ap
pointed one of the commissioners of a
new board, new reports were made,
and in 1817 the construction of the
work duly authorized! ¦
The same year Clinton was elected
by the people, spite of party, governor
of the State, and continued to hold the'
office by successive elections with the ex
ception of a single term in 1823 and 1824,
till his death. It was on his gratifying
reelection, after the interregnum when
his political enemies deprived him even
of his unpaid office of canal commis-
il— 8

sioner, that he had the further satisfac
tion of witnessing the completion of
the great project of his life, the Erie
canal. The rejoicings of New York at
that period belong to the national
history. The celebration extended
throughout the State. The day which
crowned the work was the 26th of Oc-
.tober, 1825. Governor Clinton, ac
companied by delegates from New
York and the villages along the line,
embarked at the western terminus of
the canal at Buffalo, on its waters, and
pursued its whole length to Albany,-
while signal guns, fired from station to
station,- rapidly bore the news of his
progress in advance to New York.
The party continued their, course down
the Hudson to that city, : where they
were met by a splendid flotilla of
steamboats and other maritime dis
plays, which led them to the ocean,
when the waters of Lake Erie, as in
the festal processions of Venice in the
Adriatic, were mingled with the Atlan
tic. It was a proud moment for Clinton
— one of those triumphs in the history
of science when the laurels which so
many deserving candidates fail to grasp
are placed upon the brow of some
favored individual, whose energy is at
last rewarded with success. Clinton
had every way a right to the ovation.
He was a genuine son of New York, a
growth of a family tree which had
Struck its roots deep into the soil,
which had extorted nourishment from
the wilderness, which had strengthened
in the blasts of the Eevolution, had
encountered the fiercer storm of politi
cal agitation, and survived many in-

62

DE WITT CLINTON.

ferior brethren of the forest which
thrust their foliage between its gigantic
trunk and the sunlight. We sicken as
we read of the strife of party, so un
generous in its opposition to this great
¦ man. It may be, indeed, that the strife
and. opposition were inevitable. So
much the more pleasing are the peace
ful, beneficent labors of Clinton— in the
poet and philosopher's praise of Epicu
rus, illustrating the benefits of life,
adding to the welfare of the race by
acts of unmitigated blessing. The
heart of New York should throb with
emotion at the name of this ardent,
chivalrous spirit of civilization; the
pioneer and faithful guardian of so
much of her prosperity.
We have now arrived at a culminat
ing point so near the close of this illus
trious life, that for our present pur
poses the narrative may well close.
Yet it would be injustice to the fame
of our great statesman, were we to
omit some mention of the annual mes
sages which, as governor, he sent forth
to the State, models of literary compo
sition as well as of the details of pub
lic business. He always enforced the
plans of internal improvement, sanc
tioned by the success of his great en
terprise, and when occasion permitted,
his language, as in his review of the
prosperity of his country in his last
address of this kind at the beginning
of 1828, rose to moral beauty.
It wras not long after this message
was delivered, that, on the llth of Feb
ruary, 1828, at the close of a day spent

in public business, while yet engaged
with his son in his study, in the peru
sal of the letters of the evening mail
that, stricken at the heart, he almost
instantaneously expired.
The character of De Witt Clinton
needs no effort of labored interpreta
tion. His portrait speaks the habitua.
gravity which sat on his countenance,
with an air of pride which might be
interpreted haughtiness or dignity, ac
cording to the feeling and knowledge
of the observer. His figure was tall
and commanding. He was active, an
early riser, incessant in toil, sparing lit
tle for the frivolities of life and the
arts by which politicians ingratiate
themselves with their fellows. But
they who could appreciate worth and
goodness never mistook him. Twice
married, he was endeared to a large
family connection. Of the political
asperities which entangled so consider
able a portion of a valuable life, we
have said little. They undoubtedly
present a curious subject of inquiry, by
no means unprofitable, but this is not
the place to ferret, them out from the
oblivion to Wdiich such passions of the
hour are committed. There are many
necessary labors in life, working to
good ends, the memory of which we
do not seek to perpetuate. Of these
the petty details of controversial poll
tical warfare, perhaps, are the least in
teresting to posterity. They dwindle
and stand abashed before the social
and philanthropic benefits conferred by
Clinton.

7 Ptll'l.fill'.J 7j): , /////^«4'/',MW,7,W. tV'Mr'/wVKk-

Join w.on '/.Fry & C . h*ul.!ii;lLEfB.TIew'Yor|s

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.

The gallant, amiable hero of Lake
Erie, alike estimable as a man and
admirable as a warrior, had, in his
blood, two elements which seldom
failed in our history, when they were
put to the proof, to bring forth the
matured fruits of patriotism. His first
American ancestor, Edmund Perry, was
one of the Devonshire emigrants from
England, who fled from religious perse
cution, in the seventeenth century, to the
Colony at Plymouth, in Massachusetts;
but unlike some of his companions
there, he fled not from Laud and his
spiritual exactions, but from the fight
ing men of Cromwell. He was a
Quaker, and his pacific tenets were at
war with the temper, of the times.
Nor did he find rest at Plymouth,
where on other grounds Quakers were
equally obnoxious. Like Eoger Wil
liams, he sought relief from his breth
ren among the children of the forest,
and like him found a peaceful refuge
with his companions on the waters of
Narragansett Bay. He purchased a
quantity of land from the Indians, at a
place called South Kingston, an estate
which continued to his descendants,
supplied a family home, and gave, in
due time, the subject of our sketch to
the State of Ehode Island.
Descending to the great grandson of

Edmund Perry, characteristically named
Freeman Perry, we find him a man of
influence in the colony, a lawyer, a
judge and member of the Colonial As
sembly, married to the daughter of a
wealthy and educated gentleman, Oli
ver Hazard, also a descendant of the
old Quaker stock. Of this alliance
came the early Eevolutionary naval
hero, Christopher Eaymond Perry, the
father of the hero, of Lake Erie. We
do not know precisely how this Quaker
gentleman got so intimately into the
wars, whether his principles were
weaker, or his logic stronger than that
of some of his brethren; but no one
was more resolute, and few suffered
more in the cause of the countiy. He
was in the volunteer service in Ehode
Island — he was at sea in the privateer
service, in the absence of a navy, a
more dignified and patriotic pursuit
than it might be at present. In one of
these adventures he was taken prisoner,
and brought into New York to taste
the horrors, at which humanity- shud
ders, of the Jersey prison-ship. Smart
ing with the indignity, emaciated with
fever on his escape, he rejoined his com
rades on the ocean, and both in the
navy and in the privateer service
fought gallantly against the foe. He
wras captured again, and imprisoned

61

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.

for eighteen months in Ireland ; escap
ing once more, he reached America
when the war was over. All this
occurred when he was but a youth, for
he was only twenty-twro at the declara
tion of peace.
Still following -the sea, we next find
him mate of a merchantman sailing to
Ireland. Upon his return voyage, he
falls in love with one of the passengers,
Sarah Alexander, of Irish birth and
Scotch descent. Both, at this time, are
spoken of as remarkable for their per
sonal beauty, and force of character.
The next year, 1784, Captain Perry
married his blooming acquaintance, and
the pair made their home at the old
family estate in Ehode Island.
There Oliver Hazard Perry was
born, August 23, 1785. The late Com
mander Mackenzie of the navy, who
possessed, what we may term, a fine
biographic faculty, has traced in his
interesting narrative of the Life of
Perry, with fond minuteness, the early
incidents of the boy's career. The
chief characteristics, he tells us, " were
an uncommon share of beauty, a sweet
ness and gentleness of disposition,
which corroborated the expression of
his countenance, and a perfect disregard
of danger, amounting to apparent un
consciousness." This biographer gives
some curious anecdotes of his school
days. His. first schoolmaster was, an
odd specimen of the race. He was a
kindly old gentleman of the neighbor
hood, an amateur of the profession,
whose humor it was, reversing the
usual relation between wisdom and her
followers, himself actually to lie in bed
in the schoolroom while the scholars

surrounded his couch, the nearest, of
Gourse, coming in for the most flogging.
Then there was "old Master Kelly,"
the instructor of three generations,
at Tower Hill, some four miles off,
whither the young Oliver accompanied
his fair cousins, and learnt more of
grace and humanity from their com
pany, than even from the proverbial
emollit mores of the pedagogue. A
man who serves three generations is
likely to be an old boy with those who
come last, and we are not surprised to
learn that Kelly retired "from sheer
superannuation." The succession of
schoolmasters at Tower Hill then be
came a little unsteady. The new man
from Connecticut did not stay long.
The one who came after him had his
virtues, but was intemperate. Men of
genius who stumble into that vocation
are sometimes driven there by drink, a
fatal habit which banishes them from
higher positions to which they are bet
ter entitled. In this way, you will
occasionally meet with a most accom
plished scholar in veiy humble circum
stances. If so, accept the benefit with
thanks, nor look too. narrowly at
the inscrutable providence which has
brought a learned, and, perhaps, amia
ble man to your, village, sent and
retained there by the fearful bond of
his master vice. He may not be all in
ruin. The careful student of Perry's life
will not regret these, notices of his
schoolmasters, who frequently stand
next to a boy's parents in the forma
tion of his character. But we must
here refer the reader to Mackenzie's
biography for the more particular nar-

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.

65

rative. Suffice it to say, that the fam
ily removing to Newport about this
time, Perry found good opportunities
of education at that place, and availed
himself of them in a manly spirit.
He was especially instructed in mathe
matics, and their, application to naviga
tion and nautical astronomy. As proof
of the boy's ingenuousness, and the
interest he, excited in intelligent ob
servers, it -is related that Count Eocham-
beau, the son of the General of the
Eevolution, then residing at Newport,
was particularly, attracted to him, and
that Bishop Seabury on his visitation,
marked him as a boy of religious feel
ing. These are traits which shape the
man ; we shall find them reappearing
in the maturity of Perry's life, in his
worth, humanity and refinement.
The boy was but thirteen when his
father, in 1798, was called into the
naval service of his country in the. spi
rited effort made by President Adams
to resist the aggressions of France upon
the ocean. He took the command of a
small frigate, built under his direction
in Ehode Island, named the General
Greene, and carried with him to sea
his son Oliver as a midshipman, at the
express solicitation of the youth. The
General Greene was actively employed
in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico,
giving all its officers abundant oppor
tunity for practice in the infant service.
The French war flurry after awhile
blew over, as the Directory, the main
spring of these aggressions, lost power ;
peace, was patched up, and Jefferson
shortly after inaugurated an unwhole
some pacific policy by a sweeping
reduction of the navy, as if.it had not

been small enough already. In this
mutilating operation the elder Perry
was dropped, the younger one fortu
nately retained.
The navy, however, was soon revived
by the demands of the nation to resist
the iniquitous and insulting depreda
tions upon life and property inflicted
by the Barbary powers. The United
States had borne far too patiently with
these . injuries, though she had the
honor of being in advance of the old
powers of Europe in resisting them.
The Mediterranean became the scene
of many a chivalrous exploit of our
early officers, a score of whom headed
by Preble, Bainbridge, Decatur, Som-
ers, and others of that stamp of fiery
and indomitable valor, gained immor
tal laurels in. their deeds of daring in
conflict with the infidel.
The young Perry served as midship
man in the frigate Adams, which sailed
from Newport, in 1802, to join Com
modore Morris' command at Gibraltar.
His ship was for some time employed
in blockading, a Tripolitan at that port,
a tedious but instructive service, in ma
noeuvring, at the close of which, Perry,
in consequence of his accomplishments,
was promoted by his captain to the
duties of a lieutenant. The frigate Avas
then employed as a convoy, making the
tour, of the northern ports. This gave
Perry an opportunity to study scenes
of the old world, which can never lose
their influence in the formation of
the man of education and refinement.
Cooper, whose eye was always open to
every generous influence, notices the
effect of this culture of travel to foreign
shores. "There is little doubt," says

66

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.

he, "that one of the reasons why the
American marine early obtained a
thirst for a knowledge that is not uni
formly connected with the pursuits of
a seaman, and a taste, which, perhaps,
was above the level of that of the gen
tlemen of the country, was owing to
the circumstance that the wars with
Barbary called its officers so much, at
the most critical period of its existence,
into that quarter of Europe. Travel
lers to the old world were- then ex
tremely rare, and the American who,
forty years ago, could converse as an
eye witness of the marvels of the Medi
terranean — who had seen the remains
of Carthage, or the glories of Constan
tinople — who had visited the Coliseum,
or was familiar with the affluence of
Naples, was more than half the time,
in some way or other, connected with
the navy."
At the close of 1803, Perry returned
to America in his ship, under the com
mand of Commodore Morris, and was
not again employed in active service
till he was sent to the Mediterranean
again in the Constellation, which did
not reach the scene of hostilities on the
African coast, till the more daring ope
rations of the war were over. He
returned home at the close of 1806,
when he was set upon the construction
and equipment of those famous gun
boats, the pet hobby of Jefferson, for
home defence, which exacted many a
rebellious oath from the blue water
sailors, condemned to rust in harbor.
But, however distasteful the service
may have been, Perry acquitted him
self to the satisfaction of the govern
ment in its prosecution.

In 1809, however, Perry got to sea
in command of an armed schooner, the
Eevenge, which was employed on the
coast service. While on the south
ern coast, he had an opportunity to.
gain distinction, which he did not fail
to avail himself of, in cutting out a
stolen American vessel from under the
guns of a British ship in Spanish
waters, off Florida. Conveying his
prize off the coast, he was threatened
by his majesty's ship Goree, of double
his force, when, having, as Mackenzie
says, "no idea of being ' Leopardized,' "
he put his little schooner in readiness
for boarding at a moment's notice — a
spirited resolution of great bravery,
which he would no doubt have carried
out, had the British vessel insisted upon
overhauling the Eevenge. While en-
gaged in the cruising off Connecticut
and Ehode Island, in the beginning of
1811, he unfortunately lost his vessel
through an error of the pilot, on the
Watch Hill Eeef, opposite Fisher's
Island, as he was sailing from Newport
to New London. Every seamanlike
effort was made to save the vessel, and
when all was unavailing, Perry showed
equal skill and resolution in landing
the crew in a heavy January swell,
with a violent wind. He was himself
the last to leave the vessel. He was
not merely acquitted of censure, but
his conduct was extolled by a court of
inquiry. He was, of course, by the loss of his
vessel, thrown temporarily out of com
mand, an interval of repose which he
hastened to turn to account by forming
a matrimonial alliance with Miss Eliza
beth Champlin Mason, of an influential

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.

67

family, at Newport, to whom he had
become engaged several years before,
on his arrival from the Mediterranean.
•Tho wedding took place in May, 1811,
affording him ample opportunity for
the honeymoon, previous to the actual
outbreak of the war with England now
impending. This event found him at Newport,
with the rank of master commandant,
in charge of the flotilla of gunboats
keeping watch in the harbor. It was
a service not altogether adapted to
satisfy the ambitious spirit of a young
officer, but it was important in itself,
and became in Perry's hands a step to
future eminence. His course, at this
time, illustrates a valuable truth, that
no honorable employment is profitless
to a man of genius. He will in some
way turn it to account. Constructing
gunboats,- and recruiting men in port,
were services not calculated to make
any great blaze in a dispatch, but they
conducted Perry to his glorious bulle
tins of victory, and the resounding
praises of the nation.
He saw the new field of military
operations opening on the lakes, and
his experienced eye must have seen as
well the certain difficulties as the possi
ble honors of the situation. It was
not the post which an officer, with the
claims of Perry, would have sought,
while brilliant victories were being
enacted, in the eye of the world, on
the vast theatre of the ocean. Others,
however, were before him on that ele
ment. He was emulous of their
achievements, but no petty jealousy
hindered him -from swelling their
praises in concert with the national

acclamation. Yet he sought employ
ment in active service with a restless
impulse. Despairing of a command at
sea, he offered himself to Commodoie
Chauncey, who had been recently
placed a$ the head of the lake service.
His character was understood by this
officer, and the proffer accepted. The
necessary communications were made
to the government, and in the middle
of February, in 1813, he was ordered
to join Chauncey at Sackett's Harbor,
with the picked men of his Newport
flotilla. He lost no time in reporting
himself at the appointed spot. His
destination was Lake Erie, where he
was to supervise the construction of
two vessels to be employed in the next
campaign, and he was anxious to get
to the work"; but Chauncey, who felt
the need of his aid, detained him for a
while on Lake Ontario. He however,
towards the end of March, reached
Erie, where the vessels were building,
under the direction of Noah Brown,
the shipwright of New York, and sail
ing master Dobbins, of the navy. His
experience in constructing gunboats
at Newport was now of avail to him.
He put the defence of the works, which
had been greatly neglected, in a state
of efficiency, and set himself to the
collection of supplies, workmen, and
an armament : no easy matter at that
day and in that place in the wilder
ness ; for such, as compared with our
own time, it then was. The labors of
Perry, in this work of preparation,
were in fact of the most arduous
character. They should not be forgot
ten as a heavy item to his credit in
the sum tctal of his victory. Three

68

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.

gunboats and two brigs were launched
and equipped in May.
It was at this time that he received
advices that Chauncey was about to
make an attack on the British post of
Fort George, at the mouth of the Nia
gara river. He had been promised a
share in this adventure, and hastened
to the scene. The incidents of this
journey show the spirit of the man.
In his own words, in a letter describing
this passage of his life, " on the evening
of the twenty-third of May, I received
information, about sunset, that Commo
dore Chauncey would in a day or twro
arrive at Niagara, when an attack
would be made on Fort George. He
had previously promised me the . com
mand of the seamen and marines that
might land from the fleet. Without
hesitation I determined to join him. I
left Erie about dark in a small four-
oared open boat. The night was
squally and very dark. After encoun
tering head winds and many difficul
ties, I arrived at Buffalo on the evening
of the twenty-fourth, refreshed, and
remained there until daylight ; I then
passed the whole of the British lines
in my boat, within musket-shot. : Pass
ing Strawberry Island, . several people
on our side of the river hailed, and
beckoned me on shore. On landing
they pointed out about forty men on
the end of Grand Island, who, doubt
less, were placed there to intercept
boats. In a few moments I should
have been in their hands. I then pro
ceeded with more caution. As we ar
rived at Schlosser, it rained violently.
No horse could be procured. I deter
mined to push forward on foot ; walked

about two miles and a half, when the
rain fell in such torrents I was obliged
to take shelter in a house at hand.
The sailors whom I had left with th«.
boat, hearing of public horses on the
commons, determined to catch one 'for
me. They found an old pacing one
which could not run away, and brought
him in, rigged, a rope from the boat
into a bridle, and borrowed a saddle
without either stirrup, girth, or crup
per. Thus accoutred they pursued me
and found me at the house where I had
stopped. The rain ceasing, I mounted,
my legs hung down the sides of the
horse, and I was obliged to steady the
saddle by holding by the mane. In
this style I entered the camp, it raining
again most violently. Colonel Porter
being the first to discover me, insisted
upon my taking his horse, as I had
some distance to ride to the other end
of the camp, off which the Madison
lay" Having thus reached headquarters,
arrangements were rapidly made, and
the landing of the troops assigned to
Perry. In the ignorance or inexperi
ence of some of the officers, there was
considerable confusion in directing the
boats in' the river, which was remedied
by Perry's vigilance and decision. He
was everywhere^ in the midst of danger,
guiding and directing; the unexpected
attack of the British was met by his
energy, the landing effected, and the
object of the expedition accomplished.
This victory opened the port of Black
Eock, where several American vessels
were collected, which Perry undertook
to get into Lake Erie against the strong
current of the river, a feat which was

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY

69

accomplished with extraordinary fa
tigue; so that he returned to his sta
tion, at Erie, with a respectable addi
tion of five vessels to his own newly
launched little fleet in that harbor.
To one of the vessels which he had
built, a name was given by a disaster
which, saddened the heart of the
country. An order from the navy de
partment assigned the name of the gal
lant Lawrence, who had fallen on the
first of June, on the deck of the Ches
apeake. It was with the dying excla
mation , of Lawrence, as we shall see,
that Perry led his fleet into action.
There was some delay in gathering
men and materials of war in the har
bor, locked in by the inclosing penin
sula, and half closed at its mouth by a
bar which seemed an equal defence to
the force within and the enemy with
out. A reinforcement of men at last
arrived, when Perry, though by no
means provided with all or what he
could have wished, urged by the de
mands of General Harrison, in the
upper country, for aid, and the advance
of the season, determined upon going
into action at the earliest moment.
The British commander, Captain Bar
clay, a gallant officer who had seen
much service, expected an easy prey
while the vessels were embarrassed on
the bar ; and he might have enjoyed it
under a less vigilant opponent. It is
said that the English captain was-
drawn off to an entertainment on
Bhore, the Sunday afternoon when Per
ry, by the aid of camels floated under
the brigs, diminishing the draught,
conducted the operations which ended
in getting his fleet fairly afloat. More
n.— 9

than a month was now passed in watch
ing the enemy and seeking an engage
ment, during which Perry was strength
ened by a reinforcement brought from
Lake Ontario by Captain Jesse D. El
liott, and the British added to their
force their new vessel, the Detroit, at
Maiden. Perry watched the enemy
from the islands in the neighborhood
of this place, at the head of the lake.
and from the near harbor of Sandusky.
The day of the threatened engage
ment at length came, the tenth of Sep^
tember. The American force was com
posed of the brigs Lawrence and
Niagara, of twenty guns each, com
manded respectively by Perry and El
liott, and seven smaller vessels number
ing in all fifty-four guns. Captain
Barclay, .on the other side, had the De
troit, of nineteen guns, the Queen
Charlotte, Lady Prevost, and three other
vessels, numbering altogether sixty-
three guns.1 The range of the enemy's
guns gave them the advantage at a dis
tance, when the corresponding Ameri
can fire was ineffectual. The Ameri
cans, too, were under a disadvantage
in the enfeebled state of the crew, by
the general illness which prevailed
among them from the season of the
year, the climate, or the unwholesome
ness of the water. The British force
had undoubtedly the superiority in
trained men as compared with Perry's
extemporized miscellaneous command,
and untried junior officers. The latter
proved, however, to be of the right
material. On the morning of the engagement
 ^ 
1 Cooper's Naval Biography, memoir of Perrjr.

70

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.

the American fleet was among the is
lands off Maiden at Put-in Bay when
the British fleet bore up. There was
some difficulty at first in clearing the
islands, and the nature of the wind
seemed likely to throw Perry upon the
defensive, when a southeast breeze
springing up, enabled him to bear
down upon the enemy. This was at
ten o'clock of a fine autumnal morning.
Perry arranged his vessels in line, tak
ing the lead in his flagship, the Law
rence, on which he now raised the sig
nal for action, a blue flag, inscribed in
large white letters, with the words of
the dying Lawrence, "Don't give up
the ship !" He accompanied this move
ment with an appeal to his men. " My
brave lads, this flag contains the last
words of Captain Lawrence. Shall I
hoist it ?" " Ay ay, sir !" was the wil
ling response. In this way he cheered
the men in the awful pause, " a dead
silence of an hour and a half," preced
ing the action, for the vessels were
long in the light breeze in overcoming
the intermediate distance of several
miles. " This is the time," says Wash
ington Irving, in his narrative, written
shortly after the day, "when the stout
est heart beats quick, and < the boldest
holds his breath;' it is the still mo
ment of direful expectation— of fearful
looking out for slaughter and destruc
tion — when even the glow of pride
and ambition is chilled for a while,
and nature shudders at the awful jeop
ardy of existence. The very order and
regularity of naval discipline heighten
the dreadful quiet of the moment. No
bustle, no noise prevails to distract the
mind, except at intervals the shrill pip-

ing of the boatswain's whistle, or a
murmuring whisper among the men,
who, grouped around their guns, ear
nestly regard the movements of tho
foe, now and then stealing a wistful
glance at the countenances of their
commanders." Perry, who knew the perils of the
day, prepared his papers as if for death.
He leaded the public documents in
readiness to be cast overboard, and, a
touching trait of these moments, gave
a hurried perusal to his wife's letters,
and tore them to pieces lest they should
be read by the enemy.
The awful silence is suddenly bro
ken by a bugle sounded on board the
Detroit, and the cheers of the British
seamen. A shot from that vessel fell
short of its mark.. The Lawrence
bears on to meet the fire, accompanied
by the other vessels of the command
in appointed order, each destined for
its appropriate antagonist. At noon
the British fire, from the superior long
guns, was telling fearfully on the Ame
rican force, when Perry made all sail
for close quarters, bringing the Law
rence within reach of the Detroit. He
maintained a steady, well-directed fire
from his carronades, assisted by the
Scorpion and Ariel. The destruction
on the deck of the Lawrence was fear
ful. Out of a hundred well men,
says Mackenzie, who had gone into s
action, twenty-two were killed and
sixty-one wounded. We shall not in
suit the humanity of the reader by
the details of this fearful carnage. It
has probably never been exceeded in
the terrors of the "dying deck," in
naval warfare.

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.

71

In the midst of this storm of con
flict, Perry, finding his ship getting
disabled, and seeing the Niagara un
injured at a safe distance, resolved to
change his flag to that vessel. He
had half a mile to traverse, exposed
to the fire of the enemy in an open
boat. Nothing deterred, with the ex
clamation, "If a victory is to be
gained I'll gain it," he made the pas
sage, part of the time standing as
a target for the hostile guns. Fifteen
minutes were passed exposed to this
plunging fire, which splintered the
oars and covered the boat with spray.
The Lawrence, stripped of officers and
men, was compelled to surrender.
Perry instantly bore up to the De
troit, the guns of which were plied re
solutely, when she became entangled
with her consort, the Queen Charlotte,
and the Niagara poured a deadly fire
into both vessels. This cannonade de
cided jthe battle in seven minutes,
when the enemy surrendered. The
American loss in this engagement was
twenty-seven killed and ninety-six
wounded ; that of the British forty-one
killed and ninety-four wounded.1 Gal
lant actions were performed and noble
men fell on both sides. It was every
way a splendid victory, placing the
genius of Perry and his magnanimous,
spirited conduct throughout, in the
highest rank of naval exertion.
The memorable letters, brief, at once
eloquent and modest, which he wrote
that afternoon announcing his victory
are too characteristic to be omitted in
any persona! account of the man. Ad-

1 Mackenzie's Life of Perry, I. 221-253.

dressing General Harrison, he writes :
" Dear General — "We have met the ene
my and they are ours. Two ships, two
brigs, one schooner and one sloop
Yours, with very great respect and es
teem. O. H. Perry." The other was
to the Secretary of the Navy : " Sir, it
has pleased the Almighty to give to
the arms of the United States a signal
victory over their enemies on this
lake. The British squadron, consist
ing of two ships, two brigs, one
schooner and one sloop, have this mo
ment surrendered to the force under
my command, after a sharp conflict. I
have the honor to be, sir, very respect
fully, your obedient servant. O. H.
Perry." In consonance with this sim
ple eloquence, the mark of a master
mind, was his chivalrous care of his
wounded and conduct toward his pris
oners. Let the pen of Washington Irving
bear witness at this time to the character
of Perry as a gentleman, that highest
style of man. In the contemporary
narrative already cited he says: "Com
modore Perry, like most of our naval
officers, is yet in the prime of youth.
He is of a manly and prepossessing ap
pearance ; mild and unassuming in his
address, amiable in his disposition, and
of great firmness and decision. Though
early launched among the familiar
scenes of naval life — and nowhere is
familiarity more apt to be licentious
and encroaching — yet the native gen
tility and sober dignity of his deport
ment, always chastened, without re
straining the freedom of intimacy. It
is pleasing thus to find public services
accompanied by private virtues ; to

72

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.

discover no drawbacks on our esteem,
no base alloy in the man we are dis
posed to admire ; but a character full
of moral excellence, of high-minded
courtesy, and pure, unsullied honor."
The victory having been gained, and
the lake thus cleared of the foe, Perry
was enabled to act in concert with
General Harrison in driving the British
from Michigan ; and when his fleet
was of no avail to follow them in their
rapid flight, he joined that officer's land
expedition, and was present, acting as
his aid, at the battle of the Thames.
" The appearance of the brave commo
dore," writes Harrison in his official
report, "cheered and animated every
heart." Perry also gained the grati
tude of the Moravians in whose dis
trict the contest took place, by his care
in relieving the inevitable evils of war.
He met everywhere on his homeward
route with complimentary toasts and
resolutions, gathering volume as he
reached his native State, where he was
received at Newport with military and
civic honors. The city of New York
paid him a grateful attention in a re
quest communicated by De Witt Clin
ton, then mayor, to sit for his portrait
for the civic gallery. The portrait was
painted by Jarvis, representing him in
the act of boarding the Niagara, and is
preserved in the City Hall. He was
created an honorary member of the
Cincinnati; Congress voted him a medal
and money ; he was dined and feasted
and " blazed, the comet of the season."
In one of the letters of Judge Story,
always a genial observant of what was
passing before him, there is characteris
tic mention of one of those festival

scenes at Baltimore. "It so happened,"
says he, "that in the evening of our
arrival there was a ball given in honor
of Commodore Perry, and the mana
gers politely sent invitations to all our
party. Fatigued as we were, we deter
mined to attend. The scene was truly
splendid: at one end of the room
there was a transparent painting repre
senting the battle, and on a given sig
nal the British flag was struck and the
American soon after hoisted in its
stead. The shouts and clapping were
loud and reiterated. One impulse of
joy and congratulation seized every
heart. One person only seemed silent
in the scene. It was the Commodore
himself. He is a very handsome, intel
ligent, modest gentleman, and bears
his unequalled honors meekly and
calmly. He is scarcely turned of twen
ty-eight years, and yet has all the self
command of fifty." J
Perry's next service was in August,
1814, in command of the Java, 44, a
frigate recently built at Baltimore. He
was, however, not able to get to sea, in
consequence of the blockade by the
enemy. On the conclusion of peace he
sailed in this vessel to join Commodore
Shaw's squadron in the Mediterranean.
The cruise had the usual incidents of
this service, with one of an unpleasant
nature in the quarrel or exercise of a
fit of passion of Perry towards an offi
cer of marines named Heath. Unhap
pily, Perry, who was provoked by bis
inefficiency, and what he thought his
disrespectful conduct, struck the infe
rior officer a blow. Instead of being

1 Life and Letters of Joseph Story, I 250-1.

¦li

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.

73

settled on the spot, as such things
should be, it was suffered to remain
and rankle, little mitigated by a court
martial, which censured both parties,
till it subsequently ended in a duel in
America. It was fought in October,
1818, at Weehawken, the ground where
the life of Hamilton was sacrificed, De
catur acting as Perry's second. Perry
gave the meeting as a compensation to
an officer whom he had injured, while
he forbore to return his antagonist's
fire. The. circumstances were then
stated on the field by Decatur, and the
matter ended.
Perry sailed in the following year, as
pommodore in command of the John
Adams, for the West Indies, bound for
the state of Venezuela, to- carry on an
armed negotiation for the protection of
American commerce from aggressions
in that quarter. Arriving at the mouth
of the Orinoco, h.e shifted his flag to
the Nonsuch, and ascended the river to
the capital, Angostura, where he re
mained twenty days, transacting his
business in the height of the yellow
fever season. His vessel had hardly
.eft the river, on her way to Trinidad,
when he was attacked. For nearly a
week he suffered the progress of the
terrible disease on board the small
schooner, under a tropical sun, when he
reached the station wither he had sent
his flagship, the Adams. But he
reached port only to die at sea, within
a mile of the anchorage, on the 23d of
August, 1819, when he had just com
pleted his thirty-fourth year. Such
and so early was the fate of the gallant

Perry. His remains were interred
from the John Adams at Port Spain,
with every attention by the English
governor. * Subsequently they were
brought home in a national vessel by
order 'of Congress, and reinterred at
the public expense in the cemetery at
Newport. The country also provided
for the support of his family. If ever
America produced a man whom the
nation delighted to honor, it was
Perry. The reason is not far to seek. We
may read it in his frank, generous,
handsome countenance, the type of the
manly sailor: — in his rare valor, his re
sources in difficulty, his chivalrous
conduct — in a word, his humanity.
The public seldom makes a mistake in
the bestowal of its affections. It de
tects by an unerring instinct the man
of heart, of true bravery and worth,
of noble impulses.
Of a* temper sometimes violent,
Perry's breast was filled with the
gentlest emotions. He had the sen
timent of a knight of the olden
time for woman, and a proportionate
purity, courtesy, and manly courage in
his life. He was an ardent lover of his
friends, and his native State, which
justly holds him in beloved veneration.
In person, he was remarkable in
early life, as we have noticed, for his
beauty His voice is spoken of as pe
culiarly clear and agreeable. The ex
pression of his well-formed mouth was
highly pleasing. Indeed his whole ap
pearance betokened health and happi
ness.

JAMES LAWRENCE

Captain James Lawrence was one
of that band of chivalrous spirits
who, concentrating all their life in
the work, with insufficient means, in
the face of powerful enemies, raised
our infant navy in an instant, as it
were, to an honored rank in the
world. The force and energy of the
free national development were felt in
the spontaneous movement that placed
so many ardent, courageous spirits at
the service of the country. These
men, Barry, Barney, Decatur, Bain
bridge, Perry, Somers, and the rest —
the list is a long one — were volunteers
in the cause, fighting more for glory
than for pay. Such spirits were not to
be hired ; theirs was no mercenary ser
vice. It was limited by no prudential
considerations. They went forth singly
or united, the commissioned champions
of the nation, with their lives in their
hands, ready to sacrifice themselves in
that cause. Punctilious on all points
of honor, they sought but one reward,
victory. There was but one thing for
them to do — to conquer; and failing
that, to die. Of these fiery-souled he
roes, who carried their country in their
hearts, the men of courtesy and cou
rage, of equal humanity and bravery,
true sons of chivalry, Lawrence will
ever be ranked, among the noblest.

74

He was born October 1, 1781, at
Burlington, on the banks of the Dela
ware, in New Jersey. His father, John
Lawrence, was an eminent counsellor at
law at that place. The death of hia
mother, shortly after his birth, threw
the charge of the child upon his elder
sisters, by whom he was tenderly cared
for. His disposition answered to this
gentle culture. The boy was dutiful
and affectionate, amiable in disposition
and agreeable in manners. Such a soil
is peculiarly favorable to the growth
of the manly virtues where nature has
assisted by her generous physical gifts.
The bravest men have often been the
gentlest. It is the union of the two
conditions which, as in Sir Philip Sid
ney, makes the perfect warrior.
Young Lawrence early showed a
liking for the sea, and would have led
a life on the waters from the age of
twelve, had not his father firmly turned
his attention to books and education.
It was his intention to prepare him for
his own profession, the law, and his
desire' that he should enjoy the usual
preparatory finished education. This
was, however, prevented by his pecu
niary misfortunes, and the youth passed
from his primary school at once to the
law office of his brother, John Law
rence, then residing at Woodbury. He

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JAMES LAWRENCE.

75

spent, two years in this situation, be
tween thirteen and fifteen, or there
about, vainly endeavoring to reconcile
his humors to the onerous duties of the
unwelcome position. Washington Ir
ving, in the account of the life of Law
rence published immediately after his
lamented death, writes with fellow-feel
ing on this subject, for he had himself
experienced the same distastes. " The
dry study of statutes and reporters,"
says he, "the technical rubbish, and
dull routine of a lawyer's office, were
little calculated to please an imagina
tion teeming with the adventures, the
wonders and variety of the seas." He
had not long, at any rate, to endure
the privation. The death of his father
left him in a measure free to follow his
own inclinations, and his brother, per
ceiving his strong bent for the sea,
placed him under the care of a Mr.
Griscomb, at Burlington, to study navi
gation, evidently with a view to enter
the naval service of the country, for we
find him, after a brief three months'
instruction, in possession of a midship
man's warrant. This was dated Sep
tember 4, 1798, the year when Congress
seriously directed its attention to the
protection of our commerce, then so
wantonly pillaged by the two great
belligerents of Europe, by the creation
of a distinct navy department, and the
enlargement of our naval force. The
movement was specially directed to the
French aggressions on the Atlantic and
in the Mediterranean. Indeed, in all
but the name, war existed with France.
It was called a quasi war.
Lawrence's first service was a crui&c
to the West Indies, in the Ganges, a

twenty-four gun ship, then commanded
by Captain Tingey. He showed in
this and other voyages such aptitude for
his duties that he was made an acting
lieutenant by his commander previous
to his receiving his commission from
Government. In 1802 he was appoint
ed first lieutenant in the Enterprise, of
12 guns, one of the fleet of Commodore
Morris, sent to the Mediterranean to
prosecute the war with Tripoli. He par
ticularly distinguished himself in that
service, by his adventures with Lieuten
ant David Porter, of the New York, in
an attack in open day on certain coasters
or feluccas laden with wheat, which
took refuge in Old Tripoli, where they
were defended by a land force. The
attack was made in boats, at close
quarters, under a heavy fire of the ene
my. The object does not appear a
very great one, nor was it one likely to
secure any lasting renown except to
those engaged in it ; it was of great
peril and gallantry, and showed a spirit
equal to any undertaking. There is
often more real bravery and heroism
exhibited in these little voluntary en
terprises, both inland and at sea, than
in the greater and more brilliant ac
tions of war, where much is left to
chance, and where the indecision even
of cowards may be forced into some
display in the general excitement.
Lawrence had a second opportunity
of distinguishing himself in this war
in an action likely to be better remem
bered by the public, the glorious ad
venture of Decatur in the destruction
of the wrecked and captured Philadel
phia, in the harbor of Tripoli, in Feb
ruary, 1804. This vessel, it will be

76

JAMES LAWRENCE.

remembered, fell into the hands of the
enemy in consequence of running on a
shoal at the entrance of the harbor,
when she was exposed to a furious fire
of the enemy without opportunity of
defence, and was surrendered at the
last moment of endurance by Bain
bridge and his crew, who became pris
oners. To recover or destroy this ves
sel, which was a prize greatly valued
by the Tripolitans, and well protected
by their forts and gunboats in the har
bor, was a fascinating service for the
gallant spirits of the navy. Decatur,
then in command of the Enterprise,
among others, was eager for the em
ployment, and it was intrusted to him
by Commodore Preble. His crew were
placed on board his prize, the Mastico,
an old French gunboat which he had
captured from the Tripolitans, and
every man was allowed to volunteer, a
privilege which no one declined to
avail himself of. The history of this
adventure will be found in the life of
Decatur, and it is not necessary here
to repeat it. Lawrence was the first
lieutenant of that officer, in this bril
liant adventure, and shared its full
dangers and glories — if we may except
the paltry return proffered him by
Congress in two months' additional
pay, which, with the spirit of a hero
capable of taking part in such a daring
enterprise, he at once declined.
Lawrence was also engaged in the
Enterprise in Preble's bombardment
of Tripoli, the same year. He returned
in the winter to the United States,
with that commodore, in the John Ad
ams. In the following spring of 1805,
Lawrence successfully carried across

the Atlantic one of the fleet of gun-
boats, No. 6 of which he was comman-
der, destined for service in the Medi
terranean. It was a small vessel,
mounting two guns, not at all adapted
for ocean navigation. The voyage was
looked upon as a marvel. When near
the Western Islands, Mr. Cooper, in
his "Naval History," tells he "fell in
with the British frigate Lapwing, 28,
Captain Upton, which ran for him
under the impression that the gunboat
was some wrecked mariners on a raft,
there being a great show of canvas
and apparently no hull." Another in
cident of the voyage, indignantly relat
ed by Cooper, is characteristic of the
times. " On the 12th of June, No. 6
fell in with the fleet of Admiral Col-
lingwood, off Cadiz, and while Mr.
Lawrence was on board one of the
British ships, a boat was sent and took
three men out of No. 6, under the pre
tence that they were Englishmen. On
his return to his own vessel, Mr. Law
rence hauled down his ensign, but no
notice was taken of the proceeding by
the British. It is a fitting commentary
on this transaction (continues Me
Cooper), that, in the published letters
of Lord CoUingwood, where he speaks
of the impressment of Americans, he
says that England would not submit
to such an aggression for an hour."
After the war with Tripoli was end
ed, Lawrence returned to the United
States, and in the interval when the
war with England, after the affair with
the Leopard and Chesapeake was daily
becoming more imminent, we find him,
in 1808, appointed first lieutenant of
the Constitution. About the same

JAMES LAV/RENCE.

77

time ho married Miss Montaudevert,
the daughter of a respectable merchant
of New York. He was on duty in the
Vixen, Wasp, and Argus ; and, at the
commencement of the war of 1812,
was promoted to the command of the
Hornet. While in this last vessel he
sailed with Bainbridge, who had the
flag-ship Constitution, on a cruise along
the coast of South America, and, hav
ing occasion to look in at the port of
San Salvador, found there the British
sloop of war Bonne Citoyenne, of 18
guns, ready to sail for England with a
large amount of specie. Lawrence,
whose ship mounted an equal number
of guns, was exceedingly anxious to
engage with this vessel. He sent a
challenge' to its commander, Captain
Green, through the American consul,
inviting him to " come out," and pledg
ing his honor that neither the Constitu
tion, nor any other American vessel,
should interfere, which Commodore
Bainbridge seconded by promising to be
out of the way, or at least non-combat
ant. The English captain replied,
through, the consul of his countiy, not
as he should have done, by objecting
to expose his ship and its valuable
cargo to a hazard not provided for in
his orders, but by doubting whether
Commodore Bainbridge would be able
to preserve his neutrality under the
circumstances ; he was of opinion, that
officer " could not reserve so much from
the paramount duty he owes to his
country, as to become an inactive spec
tator, and see a ship belonging to the
very squadron under his orders, fall
in to the hands of. an enemy" — for of his
power to secure a victory he professed
ii.— 10

not to entertain the least doubt. It
was an unhappy precedent which Law
rence thus established, injurious to the
service and destined to act fatally
against himself in the end, when from
the challenger he became the challenged.
The Constitution meanwhile sailed
away, to close the year with her bril
liant engagement with the Java, leav
ing the Hornet engaged in the block
ade of the Bonne Citoyenne. Eigh
teen days since the departure of the
flag-ship had passed, while her consort
was thus engaged, waiting till her ex
pected prize should issue from the har
bor, when the Hornet was robbed of
her chances of victory by the arrival
of his majesty's seventy-four, the Mon
tague. Escape now became the policy
of Lawrence, who luckily managed to
get from the harbor in safety, and
turned his course to the northward,
along the coast. While cruising in
this direction, after capturing a small
English brig, he fell in with, on the
24th of February, 1813, off the mouth
of the Demarara, two brigs of war,
with one of which, the Hornet, Cap
tain Peake, he speedily became engaged.
The American vessel on this occasion
had the advantage in armament ; her
force being 18 thirty-two pound carron
ades, and two long twelves, against 16
twenty-four pound carronades and some
smaller guns, while there was little dis
parity in the number of men, the Brit
ish vessel numbering one hundred and
thirty, her adversary reporting one
hundred and thirty-five fit for duty.
The action was fought in the afternoon.
In the words of Lawrence's dispatch,
which gives a modest and forcible ao

78

JAMES LAWRENCE.

count of the affair, after mentioning
his attempt to get at the first vessel he
discovered at anchor off the bar, he
says — " At half past three, p.m., I dis
covered another sail on my weather
quarter, edging down for us. At twen
ty minutes past four she hoisted Eng
lish colors, at which time we discovered
her to be a large' man-of-war brig;
beat to quarters and cleared ship for
action; kept close by the wind,' in
order, if possible, to get the weather-
gage. At ten minutes past five, finding
I could weather the enemy, I hoisted
American colors and tacked. At twen
ty minutes past five, in passing each
other, exchanged broadsides within
half pistol shot. Observing the enemy
in the act of wearing, I bore up, re
ceived his starboard broadside, ran him
close on board on the starboard quar
ter, and kept up such a heavy and well
directed fire, that in less than fifteen
minutes he. surrendered, being literally
cut to' pieces, and hoisted an ensign,
union down, from his fore rigging, as a
signal of distress."
The hull of the Peacock was so rid
dled that she sank, while every exer
tion was made by her captors to save
her by throwing over her guns and
stopping the shot-holes. Nine of her
crew went down with her, and three
of the Hornet's men. Captain Peake
was found dead on board. The loss
of the Hornet was trifling compared
with that of her adversary; but one
man killed and four wounded or in
jured, one of whom afterwards died.
This superiority is attributed by Coop
er, who sums up the testimony " to the
superior gunnery and rapid handling!

of the Hornet." Everything was done
in the first place to save the lives of
the prisoners from the sinking ship,
and in the ' second, to administer to
their comforts. As the action was
fought near the shore, the vessel set
tling in only five and a half fathoms
water, four of her men were taken off
the foretop after she sunk. The sailors
of the Hornet supplied their captives
with clothing from their own ward
robes, and aided them by a subscrip
tion. Lawrence carried his ship in
safety, now crowded with her crew and
prisoners, through the West Indies,
bringing her on the 19th March to
Holmes' Hole, in Martha's Vineyard,
whence he got in safety through Long
Island Sound, to New York. There
the officers of the Peacock made a pub
lic acknowledgment to Lawrence in
the newspapers, of the kind and gen
erous treatment they had received from
him. " So much was done," said they,
"to alleviate the distressing and un
comfortable situation in which we were
placed, when received on board the
sloop you command, that we cannot
better express our feelings than by say
ing ' we ceased to consider ourselves
prisoners,' and everything that friend
ship could dictate was adopted by
you." This victory brought Lawrence a
harvest of honors, public and private.
Before he sailed, he had felt called
upon to protest to the Secretary of the
Navy against what he thought an in
justice done him in the promotion of a
younger officer to a captaincy, while he
remained simply lieutenant commander
He now found that the promotion had

JAMES LAWRENCE.

79

been conferred upon him in his absence,
and was offered the command of the
Constitution. He would have been
pleased to sail in this vessel, but, much
to his annoyance, immediately after re
ceiving the appointment was ordered
to the Chesapeake, then lying at Bos
ton. The latter was considered an un
lucky ship, while the former was pecu
liarly fortunate. No ship probably
ever raised a greater crop of glory for a
series of commanders than " Old Iron
sides." No one has so ill a name in
the service as the Chesapeake. Both
Irving and Cooper have dwelt upon
this unhappy, condition. "Lawrence,"
says the former, " was prejudiced against
the Chesapeake, both from her being
considered the worst ship in our navy,
and from having been in a manner dis
graced in the affair with the Leopard.
This last circumstance had acquired
her the character of an unlucky ship —
the worst of stigmas among sailors,
who are devout believers in good and
bad luck ; and so detrimental was it
to this vessel, that it has been found
difficult to recruit crews for her."
Cooper tells us in addition that on her
return to Boston from her last cruise,
the Chesapeake lost a topmast, and
several men who were aloft at the time
were drowned. " Whatever reason may
teach men," he adds, " on such subjects,
facts and superstition are usually found
to furnish more arguments than logic
and common sense."
Captain Lawrence took the command
of the Chesapeake at Boston, towards
the end of May, 1813. The Shannon
frigate, Captain Broke, a superior ves
sel of the British navy, had been for

some time off the port, and her com
mander, assured of his strength, was
desirous of a conflict. The President
and Congress had escaped the Shannon
and her consort, and the former was
now alone, waiting the exit of the
Chesapeake. On the morning of the
first of June, this vessel- appeared off
the harbor, signalling the Chesapeake,
or challenging her to an engagement.
This was understood by Lawrence, and
was no doubt the intention of Captain
Broke, who had already sent a chal
lenge in a letter to the American com
mander, which, landed at Salem, did
not reach Boston till after the action.
In this communication he stated ex
actly the force of his vessel, gave assur
ance of the absence of any interfering
ships of the squadron^ proposed liberal
accommodations for the place and time
of meeting, and urged the invitation
upon. the "personal ambition" of Law
rence. " You will feel it as a compli
ment," he wrote, "if I say, that the
result of our meeting may be the most
grateful service I can render to my
country : and I doubt not that you,
equally confident of success, will feel
convinced that it is only by triumphs
in equal combats that your little navy
can now hope to console your country
for the loss of that trade it can no
longer protect."
It would be complimenting the valor
of Lawrence at the expense of his judg
ment, if we were to pronounce him ar
dent for . the fight, with the circum
stances under which it took place. In
fact, as Mr. Cooper states, " he went
into the engagement with strong reluc
tance, on account of the peculiar state

BO

JAMES LAWRENCE.

of his crew. He had himself joined
the vessel only a few days before ; her
proper first lieutenant, Mr. O. A Page,
of Virginia, an officer of experience,
was ill on shore, and died soon after in
Boston ; the acting first lieutenant, Mr.
Augustus Ludlow, of New York,
though an officer of merit, was a very
young man, and was in an entirely
novel situation, and there was but one
other commissioned sea officer in the
ship; two of the midshipmen acting as
third and fourth lieutenants, and now
performing this duty for the first time.
One, if not both of these young gentle
men, had also just joined the ship, fol
lowing the captain from the Hornet.
In addition, the Chesapeake had an
unusual number of landsmen in her,
and of mercenaries, among whom was
a boatswain's mate, a Portuguese, who
was found to be particularly trouble
some." There was, moreover, some
disaffection among the crew from the
prize money of the last cruise not hav
ing been paid. The challenging vessel,
on the contrary, carried a picked crew,
with every advantage of discipline and
equipment, or her commander would
have been the most foolhardy desper
ado in the world to provoke an engage
ment. The presumption, of course, is,
that he was fully prepared. The arma
ment of the two vessels was about
equal, mounting forty-nine guns each.
At noon, then, on the first of June,
Lawrence weighed anchor and left his
station in the bay to proceed to sea
with a southwesterly breeze. The
Shannon was in sight, and the two
ships stood off the shore till about
half past four in the afternoon, when

the Chesapeake fired a gun, which was
the signal for a series of manoeuvres,
bringing the vessels within range of
each other about a quarter before six.
The Shannon hove to, and the Chesa
peake bore down towards her. It was
Lawrence's intention to bring his ship
fairly alongside of the enemy for a full
discharge of his battery. He conse
quently first received the enemyls fire
from the cabin guns, as, the wind hav
ing freshened, his ship came up to mea
sure her length with her antagonist,
which lay with her head to the south
east. Then the Chesapeake poured in
her full fire, inflicting considerable
damage, which was repeated in the
successive discharges for several min
utes. In this commencement of the
action it was considered that the Shan
non received most injury, particularly
in her hull. Unhappily the Chesa
peake in turn lost the command of her
sails. Her fore-topsail tie and jib sheet
were shot away; the spanker brails
were loosened, and the sail blew out.
The ship was consequently brought up
into the wind, when, taken aback, she
got sternway and fell aboard of the
enemy, with her mizzen rigging foul of
the Shannon's fore chains.1 This acci
dent exposed the Chesapeake to a rak
ing fire, which swept her deck, and, as
she was already deprived of the servi
ces of the officers who had fallen in
the first discharges, her guns in turn
were deserted by the men. Captain
Lawrence had already received a wound
in the leg, his first lieutenant, Ludlow,
was wounded, the sailing-master wa«

1 Cooper's Naval History, II. 103.

JAMES LAWRENCE.

81

killed, and other important officers
were mortally wounded. As the ships
became entangled, Lawrence gave or
ders to summon the boarders, who
were ready below ; but unhappily the
negro, whose duty It was to call them.
up by his bugle, was too much fright
ened to sound a note, A verbal mes
sage was sent, and before it could be
executed Lawrence was a second time
struck, receiving a grapeshot in his
body. The deck was thus left with
no officer above the rank of a midship
man. The men of the Shannon now
poured in and gained possession of the
vessel. As Lawrence was borne below,
mortally wounded, his dying thoughts
were of his command, uttering his order
not to strike -the flag of his ship, or
some equivalent expression, which is
handed down'in the popular phrase,
" Don't give up the ship !" He lin
gered and died of his wounds on board
on the sixth of June. The Chesapeake
was carried into Halifax, and there the
remains of her gallant captain were
borne from the frigate with military
honors, with every mark of respect
which a generous enemy could pay to
a fallen hero. His remains were soon
after brought to Salem under a flag of
truce, by a crew of masters of vessels
who sailed for the purpose from that
port. The funeral honors were renewed
and a eulogy delivered by Judge Story
Once more were these sad rites repeat
ed when the hero was finally entombed
at New York, in the graveyard at Tri
nity where an appropriate monument,
by the side of the porch, records the

life and death of the youthful hero of
the Chesapeake.
The character of Lawrence may best
be summed up in the sailor's eulogy
of a kindred spirit, the chivalrous De
catur. When that officer, with whom
the deceased had been so honorably
associated in the Mediterranean before
Tripoli, was asked, " whether his intrin
sic merit as an officer justified the en
thusiastic veneration in which the
nation held his memory," he is said to
have answered, after a short pause,
' Yes, sir, it did ; and the fellow died
'as well as he lived ; but he inspired all
about him with ardor ; he always saw
the best thing to be done ; he knew
the best way to execute it ; and had no
more dodge in him than the main
mast."1 To this characteristic eulogy may be
added the impartial estimate of Cooper-;
" James Lawrence was a man of noble
stature and fine personal appearance.
He had the air and manner of a gentle
manlike sailor, and was much beloved
by his friends. He was quick and im
petuous in his feelings, and sometimes
manifested it on the quarter deck ; but
in all critical situations his coolness
was remarkable. He was a perfect
man-of-war's man, and an excellent
quarter-deck seaman, handling his ves
sel not only skilfully, but with all the
style of the profession. In his feelings
and sentiments he was chivalrous, gen
erous and just."

1 The Naval Monuments of the Last War, etc. p. 68
Boston, 181G.

THOMAS MACDONOUGH.

Thomas Macdonougii, the hero of
Lake Champlain, was born in New
castle County, Delaware, on the twenty-
third of December, 1783. He was
the son of Thomas Macdonough, an
eminent physician, who resided on a
farm at the place just mentioned, and
who, on the breaking out of the Revo-
lutionary war, was appointed major of
a regiment raised by the State. He
retired from the army, and after peace
was declared, held the office of a judge.
Two of his sons entered the navy.
One, named James, was a midshipman
with Commodore Truxton in 1799, in
the victorious action of the Constella
tion with the French frigate l'lnsur-
gente, and was one of the three men
wounded. His foot was shot off, and
the necessary amputation of his leg in
consequence caused his retirement from
the service.
It was about the time of this en
gagement, that his brother Thomas en
tered the service as a midshipman.
We are without details of his early
apprenticeship, but first hear of him
on active duty in connection with the
Tripolitan war in 1804, when he was
one of the adventurous picked party
in the ketch with Decatur and Law
rence, engaged in the burning of the Phi
ladelphia in the harbor — an event al

ready fully spoken of in the biogra
phical notices of the chief officers just
mentioned. Macdonough had escaped
being taken prisoner in that ship,
with Bainbridge and his crew, in con
sequence of being left at Gibraltar in
charge of the Barbary prize, the Me-
shoba. In the duty at the destruction
of the Philadelphia, he was assigned his
post on board the attacking vessel in
the division of Lawrence.
Macdonough at this 'time ranked as
a midshipman ; but he wTas speedily
promoted, and in 1806 we hear of him
as first lieutenant of the Siren, Captain
John Smith, at Gibraltar. An event
of that time and place shows the spirit
of the youthful officer and the determi
nation thus early evinced in the navy
in regard to a system of aggression
which was to lose none of its attendant
odium by further practice. We allude
to the right of search claimed by Eng
lish officers, which, on this occasion at
least, was bravely resisted. The cir-
cumstances were these. In the absence
of Captain Smith on shore one fore
noon, a merchant brig, hoisting the
flag of the United States, came into
port and anchored in the neighborhood
of the Siren. Presently a boat was
seen to proceed from a British frigate
and bear away with her a man from

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THOMAS MACDONOUGH

83

the brig. Macdonough's suspicions
were aroused, and on inquiry con
firmed. An American citizen had been
claimed and impressed. On the instant,
just as the boat with the prisoner
reached the British vessel, Macdon
ough was alongside and rescued the
captive, bearing him away to the Siren.
The next incident, which immediately
followed, was the arrival of the British
captain, loudly , demanding from the
lieutenant how he dared to take a man
from a boat of his majesty's vessel.
To this Macdonough answered that he
was responsible to his superior'Officer,
and that the question should be ad
dressed to him. The Englishman there
upon threatened to take the. man by
force, and haul the frigate alongside
the Siren, which carried only sixteen
guns. The lieutenant answered that
he supposed it possible for him to sink
the vessel ; but as long as she was
afloat the man would not be suiren-
dered. " You are a very young and a
very indiscreet young man," said the
captain. " Suppose I had been in the
boat, what would you have done ?"
" I would have taken the man or lost
my life." "What, sir, would you at
tempt to stop me if I were now to
attempt to impress men from that brig?"
" I would ; and to convince yourself I
would, you have only to make the at
tempt." The Englishman thereupon
left the vessel, and when he was seen
making in the direction of the brig,
Macdonough was in pursuit in a boat
of armed men. The English officer re
turned to his vessel, and Captain Smith,
on hearing the circumstances, approved
of the conduct of his lieutenant.

While in the Mediterranean, Macdo
nough. had another and still more criti
cal opportunity of exhibiting his per
sonal prowess in an encounter with
some desperadoes at Messina. While
the American fleet lay at this port, he
was detained one night on. shore till all
the ship's boats had returned to the
fleet. • He then hired a boat to carry
him, when three, instead of the usual
number, two, insisted upon accompany
ing him. Suspecting some mischief, he
resisted, when all three attacked him.
With his back to a door, he defended
himself against their united effort,
wounding two and pursuing the third
so resolutely that he took refuge on the
roof of the barracks, whence he was
compelled to leap, and killed himself
in the fall.1
We hear little of Macdonough after
these scenes in the Mediterranean, till
his eminent service on Lake Champlain
in the brilliant action which he fought
toward the close of the struggle with
England. The scene of this engage
ment, in a region consecrated to death
and victory by the struggles of the pre
vious great wars with France, in the
old colonial times, and the succeeding
Revolutionary conflict, gives to the bat
tle of Plattsburg a peculiar interest.
In defiance of fatal precedents and the
memorable disaster of Burgoyne, it ap-
peared to be the intention of the Brit
ish in Canada to attempt another inva
sion of the heart of the State of New
York. The defensive force was small,
and with the facility of approach by
the lake, offered a strong temptation to
1 Life of Macdonough, Analectic Magazine and Navai
Chronicle, March, 1816. .

84:

THOMAS MACDONOUGH.

the attacking army. On the first of
September, 1814, Sir George Prevost
crossed the frontier from Montreal with
a force stated at twelve thousand men.
He advanced towards Plattsburg, where
General Macomb was intrenched on
the Saranac with s:>me fifteen hundred
effective defenders, who were joined,
as the conflict became imminent, by a
considerable number of New York and
Vermont militiamen, who hastened to
the spot. The plan of the British
commander was to unite a land and
water attack. His fleet on the lake
was to support his army on shore.
The naval defences of Lake Cham-
plain were intrusted to Macdonough.
They consisted, at the time of the ac-

American in vessels and guns. It was
commanded by Captain Downie, and
consisted of his flagship, the Confiance,
mounting thirty-seven guns, of Avhich
no less than thirty on the gun deck
were long twenty-fours; the brig Lin
net, with sixteen long twelves; two
sloops, the Chub and Finch, mounting
each eleven guns, mainly eighteen
pound carronades, and thirteen galleys,
of which five had two guns each. The
•whole number of guns of the British
was ninety-five, with a force of about
one thousand men. Preparations had
been made by both parties during the
previous season, and two of the vessels,
the Eagle and the Confiance, had been
launched during the month of August.

tion, of fourteen vessels, mounting in j The British began their advance from

all eighty-six guns, and manned by
about eight hundred and fifty men, all
told. Of these vessels, four only were
of any considerable size, the rest being
galleys or gunboats. The largest ves
sel, the Saratoga, commanded by Mac
donough himself, mounted eight long
twenty-four pounders, six forty-two
pound carronades, and twelve thirty-
two pound carronades; the schooner
Eagle, Captain Henley, twelve twenty-
three pound carronades, and eight
long eighteens; the schooner Ti-
conderoga, eight long twelve " pound
ers, four long eighteen pounders, and
five thirty-two pound carronades; the
sloop Preble, seven long nine pound
ers. Six of the ten galleys were armed
with one long twenty-four pounder and
one eighteen pound columbiad each;
the remainder carried each one long
twelve pounder.
The British force outnumbered the

Isle aux Noix, at the northern end of
the lake, with their gunboats, on the
third of September, covering the land
movement of the troops ; they made a
station and rendezvous at Isle au Motte,
and brought their whole force off Platts
burg on the eleventh, the day of the
battle. Macdonough meanwhile was
reconnoitering the enemy on the shore
with his gunboats, and taking his posi
tion for the defence of the town, across
Plattsburg Bay. This is a piece of
water running north and south, parallel
with the lake and protected from it by
the jutting promontory of Cumberland
Head. South of this piece of land,
forming as it were a boundary, to the
bay in that direction, are a shoal and a
small island. Resting upon the latter,
and stretching in a straight line fully
within the promontory, were anchored
the vessels of Macdonough in the fol
lowing order from the north, the Eagle

THOMAS MACDONOUGH.

85

Saratoga, Ticonderoga, and Preble.
On an inner line in the openings be
tween these were ranged the gunboats
which were not anchored.
The first appearance of the enemy
was announced at eight o'clock in the
morning. At nine, to follow the dis
patch of Macdonough, which presents
in few words the clearest account of
the engagement, he " anchored in a line
ahead, at about three hundred yards'
distance from my line ; his ship opposed
to the Saratoga, his brig to the Eagle,
his galleys to the schooner, sloop, and
a. division of our galleys ; one of his
sloops assisting their ship and brig, the
other assisting their galleys : our re
maining galleys with the Saratoga and
Eagle. In this situation the whole
force on both sides became engaged,
the Saratoga suffering much from the
heavy fire of the Confiance. I could
perceive at the same time that our fire
was very destructive to her. The Ti-
conderoga, Lieut. Com. Cassin, gallantly
sustained her full share of the action.
At half past ten o'clock, the Eagle not
being able to bring her guns to bear,
-cut her cable and anchored in a more
eligible position, between my ship and
the Ticonderoga, where she very much
annoyed the enemy, but unfortunately
leaving me exposed to a galling fire
from the enemy's brig. Our guns on
the starboard side being nearly all dis
mounted or unmanageable, a stern an
chor was let go, the bow cable cut, and
the ship winded with a fresh broadside
on the enemy's ship, which soon after
surrendered. Our broadside was then
sprung to bear on the brig, which sur
rendered in fifteen minutes after. The
n.— 11

sloop that was opposed to the Eagle
had struck some time before, and drift
ed down the line, the sloop which was
with their galleys having struck also.
Three of their galleys are said to be
sunk ; the others pulled off. Our gal
leys were about obeying with alacrity
the signal to follow them, when all the
vessels were reported to me to be in a
sinking state ; it then became necessary
to annul the signal to the galleys, and
order their men to the pumps. I could
only look at the enemy's galleys going
off in a shattered condition, for there
was not a mast in either squadron that
could stand to make sail on ; the lower
rigging, being nearly all shot away
hung down as though it had just been
placed over the mastheads. The Sara
toga, which was twice set on fire by
hot shot from the enemy's ships, had
fifty-five round shot in her hull, the
Confiance one hundred and five.. The
enemy's shot passed principally just
over our heads, as there were not twen
ty whole hammocks in the nettings at
the close of the action, which lasted
without intermission two hours and
twenty minutes."
Such, in the manly, unaffected lan
guage of Macdonough, was the battle
of Lake Champlain — to which we must
add the cost of the victory. His sec
ond in command in the Saratoga, Lieu
tenant Peter Gamble, fell at his post
early in the action. Twenty-eight were
killed and twenty-nine wounded on
board this ship. In the other Vessels
of the American line, the unusually
close proportion of killed and wounded
was -as remarkable, the aggregate being
fifty-two of the former to fifty-eight of

86

THOMAS MACDONOUGH.

the latter. The English losses were
not ascertained with the same accuracy.
The number of killed and wounded on
board the. Confiance exceeded one-third
of her crew of about three hundred
men. Her commander, Captain Dow-
nie, was killed early in the action,
when the vessel was gallantly fought
by Captain Pring, who headed the list
of officers captured.
Great praise is awarded to Macdo
nough for his skilfnl disposition of
his ship in anchoring not only with a
spring on his cable, but with kedges
out, ready to warp the ship either way,
as might be required — an arrangement
which enabled him to bring his fresh
broadside to bear upon his antagonist
and secure a victory. The slaughter
in both these vessels was. fearful. The
first broadside of the Confiance, after
securing-her position, killed and wound
ed some forty men on the deck of the
Saratoga. The certainty of the fire,
and the sure effect of the manoeuvres
on the still water of the iake, added
greatly to the perils of the 'engagement,
compared with the naval vicissitudes
of wind and wave in an encounter at
One incident on board Macdo-

sea.

nough's vessel, often narrated, pleas
antly relieves the. horror of this terrible
strife. In clearing her decks for action,
some hen-coops were broken up, and
the poultry suffered to run at large.
Animated by the noise of the conflict,
a young cock flew upon a gun slide,
clapped his wings and crowed. It was
accepted as a good omen by the men,
who seconded it with three cheers. It
reads like a story of some ancient con
flict ' of Greek or Roman in the Medi

terranean, when such a circumstance
would have almost decided the conflict.
Many stories are told concerning
the deck of the Saratoga during the
engagement. It was thought at one
time that Macdonough himself- was
killed. He was prostrate for several
minutes, lying senseless on his face.
At another moment he was thrown
covered with blood between two of the
guns, struck by the head. of one of his
men. This is narrated by Cooper, who
preserves other wonders of the scene.
" Mr. Brum, the master, a venerable old
seaman, while winding the ship, had a
large splinter driven so near his body
as actually to strip off his clothes. For
a minute he was thought to be dead ;
but, on gaining his feet, he made an
apron of his .pocket handkerchief, and
coolly went to work again with the
springs. Mr. Vallette, acting lieuten
ant, had a shot box, on which he was
standing, knocked from under his feet,
and he, too, was once knocked down
by the head of a seaman."
Another incident is well worth men
tioning as illustrative of the earnest
character of Macdonough. He is said,
on the first appearance of the enemy
off Cumberland Head, to have knelt on
the deck of his ship and prayed for
aid. This accords with the language
of his first brief dispatch after the bat
tle, addressed to the Hon. William
Jones, the Secretary of the Navy, dated
on board the Saratoga. " Sir, the Al
mighty has been pleased to grant us a
signal victory on Lake Champlain, iu
the capture of one frigate, one brig,
and two sloops of war of the enemy
I have the honor to be, etc."

THOMAS MACDONOUGH.

87

Laconic dispatches were the order of
the day with the men of the sword in
the last war.
Of the effective military conduct of
the American commander in this en
gagement we may willingly accept the
summary of Cooper, referring the read
er, for the more particular detail of the
nautical incidents of the day, to his
Naval History. " Captain Macdo
nough," he writes, " who was already
very favorably known to the service
for his personal intrepidity, obtained a
vast accession of reputation by the re
sults of this day His dispositions for
receiving the attack were highly judi
cious and seamanlike. By the manner
in which he anchored his vessels, with
the shoal so near the rear of his line as
to cover that extremity, and the land
of Cumberland Head so near his broad
side as necessarily to bring the enemy
within reach of his short guns, he com
pletely made all his force available.
The English were not near enough,
perhaps, to give to carronades their
full effect, but this disadvantage was
unavoidable, the assailing party having,
of course, some choice in the distance.
All that could be obtained, under the
circumstances, appears to have been
secured, and the result proved the wis
dom of the actual arrangement! The
personal deportment of Captain Mac
donough, in this engagement, like that
of Captain Perry in the battle of Lake
Erie, was the subject of general admi
ration in his little squadron. His cool
ness was undisturbed throughout all
the trying scenes on board his own
ship, and although lying against a ves
sel of double the force, and nearly dou

ble the tonnage of the Saratoga, he
met and resisted her attack with a con
stancy that seemed to set defeat at de
fiance. The winding of the Saratoga,
under such circumstances, exposed as
she was to the raking broadsides of the
Confiance and Linnet, especially the
latter, was a bold, seamanlike, and
masterly measure, that required unus
ual decision and fortitude to imagine
and execute. Most men would have
believed that, without a single gun on
the side engaged, a fourth of their peo
ple cut down, and their ship a wreck,
enough injury had been received to
justify submission ; but Captain Mac
donough found the means to secure a
victory in the desperate condition of
his own ship."
The result of this action, and of the
corresponding energy on land, was the
speedy delivery of the region from the
presence of Sir George Prevost and his
forces. Congress awarded Macdonough a
gold medal, and various gifts poured
in upon him. He was pronounced
the fellow hero of Perry, and Cham-
plain was placed by the side of Erie.
The State of New York bestowed
upon him a giant of land on the
bay which he had made memorable
by his bravery ; and Vermont, the city
Of New York, and Albany, conferred
grants of land. He retired from the
war not only honored but wealthy.
We hear of him afterwards in command
of the station at Portsmouth, New
Hampshire, and of his last years being
passed in broken health. He died of
a lingering consumption on the tenth
of November, 1825.

JOHN RANDOLPH.

The first ancestor of John Bandolph
in Virginia, William Randolph, came
from Warwickshire in England, we
presume in the latter portion of the
seventeenth century, for we read of
his death in 1711, leaving a large
family. His fourth son, Richard, mar
ried Jane Boiling, the grand-daughter
of Robert Boiling and Jane Rolfe
who was the grand-daughter of Poca
hontas. Richard had a son John
who was the father of our John Ran
dolph of Roanoke, as he loved to call
himself after the paternal estate ; and
it was thus he had in his veins, as he
sometimes proudly said, the blood of
the Indian princess.
John Randolph, the father, died at
the age of thirty-four, in 1775, leaving
a young and fascinating widow of the
age of twenty-three, the mother of four
children. This lady was the daughter
of Colonel Theodorick Bland, senior,
an active spirit in the Revolution,
at whose estate, " Cawson's," in Prince
George County, her third son, John,
the subject of our sketch, was born, or
as he chose late in life to express it,
"was ushered in this world of woe,"
June 2, 1773. His parents' home, how
ever, was Matoax, not far off in the ad
joining county on the Appomatox, near
Petersburg. Thither the widow brought

her second husband, St. George Tucker
when, after three years' endurance, she
threw off her " unhappy widowhood,"
as it is written in her hand in the old
family Prayer-book.1 Between these
two homes the youth of John Randolph
was passed. When the second mar
riage took place, the boy was in his
sixth year, and his mother and step
father both of the age of twenty-six.
Later in life, St. George Tucker became
known as Judge Tucker, editor of
Blackstone, and author of various poli
tical and legal writings. There is a
little poem, a favorite with the public,
attributed to his pen.8 As Mr. Tucker
always enjoyed a high reputation for
amiability, the family influences of
youth, beauty and intelligence, upon
the children, must have been propitious,
The mother taught the Collects Of the
Common Prayer and the Catechism;
the father, who had come to America
from the Bermudas to old William and
Mary College, the other studies. But
John was better disposed to take care
of his own education. A delicate, lit-

1 For these and other details of this sketch we are im
debted to the appreciative life of John Randolph of
Roanoke, by Hugh A. Garland.
' The stanzas commencing —
k " Days of my youth, ye have glided away,
Halia of my youth, ye are frosted and grey."

Jirpm.ifa:ir../cfuil pawtmp Ar CAup^cLTfLthc C'cs^sssu-'ri c?' -Jut- pul-UsA'?/;
JoinsoTi.TVy <.- Ca-FiihlisTier-a. I^'^t'brk .

JOHN RANDOLPH.

89

erally and figuratively thin-skinned
boy, of a wilful, violent temper, withal
sensitive and poetic, he found his way
to that " book closet " in the old coun
try mansion which so often figures in
the history of men of genius. - There
he found nutriment which thus im
bibed in youth has governed the
thoughts and actions of many authors
and busy men.
Fondly recurring to this youthful
training of the imagination more than
thirty years afterwards, in a letter to
the nephew whose education he, in
turn, had directed, he assembles again
these books of his boyhood, with
their shelf-fellows, " nature's great ste
reotypes," — volumes which had been
the companions and solace of his
troubled life. Hear the reminiscent,
and be stirred at these echoing names
as at the sound of a trumpet. " I al
most envy you, Orlando. I would, if
it were not Johnny Hoole's translation ;
although at the age of ten I devoured
that more eagerly than gingerbread.
Oh, if Milton had translated it, he
might tell of —
1 All who since, baptized or infidel,
Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban,
Pamasco, or Morocco, or Trebisond ;
Or whrm Biserta sent from Afric shore,
When Charlemagne, with all his peerage, fell
By Fontarabia.'
Let me advise you to —
' Call up Mm, who left half told,
The story of Cambusoan bold.'
I think you have never -read Chau
cer. Indeed, I have sometimes blamed
mysel f for not cultivating your imagin
ation, when you were young. It is a

dangerous quality, however, for the
possessor. But if from my life were to
be taken the pleasure derived from that
faculty, very little would remain. Shak-
speare and Milton, and Chaucer and
Spenser, and Plutarch and the Arabian
Nights Entertainments, and Don Quix
ote and Gil Bias, and Tom Jones and
Gulliver, and Robinson Crusoe and
' the tale of Troy divine,' have made
up more than half of my worldly en
joyment. To these ought to be added
Ovid's ' Metamorphoses,' Ariosto, Dry
den, Beaumont and Fletcher, Southern,
Otway, Congreve, Pope's 'Rape' and
'Eloisa,' Addison, Young, Thomson,
Gay, Goldsmith, Gray, Collins, Sheri
dan, Cowper, Byron, ^Esop, La Fon
taine, Voltaire ('Charles XH.,' ' Moham
med,' and ' Zaire '), Rousseau (' Julie '),
Schiller, Madame de Stael — but above
all, Burke.
" One of the first books I ever read
was Voltaire's ' Charles XII.' About
the same time, 1780, 1 read the ' Spec
tator,' and used to steal away to the
closet containing them. The letters
from his correspondents were my favor
ites. I read ' Humphrey Clinker,' also,
that is, Win's and Tabby's letters, with
great delight, for I could spell at that
age pretty correctly. 'Reynard the
Fox,' came next, I think, then 'Tales
of the Genii,' and 'Arabian Nights.'
This last and Shakspeare were my
idols. I had read them with Don
Quixote, Gil Bias, Quintus Curtius,
Plutarch, Pope's Homer, Robinson Cru
soe, Gulliver, Tom Jones, Orlando Fu-
rioso, and Thomson's Seasons, before I
was eleven years of age; also, Gold
smith's Roman History, 2 vols. 8vo.,

\^>:vy\~"

90

JOHN RANDOLPH.

and an old history of Braddock's war.
When not eight years' old, I used to
sing an old ballad of his defeat :

4 On the sixth day of July, in the year sixty-five,
At two in the evening, did our forces arrive ;
When the French and the Indians in ambush
did lay,
And there was great slaughter of our forces that
day.' "
At about eleven, 1784-5, Percy's
lleliques and Chaucer became great
favorites, and Chatterton and Row
ley1 The youth of Randolph, spite of
these solaces of the imagination, was
not — could hardly have been happy
He encountered many miseries, some of
which, being external to a man, a
healthy temperament, with the exercise
of that fortitude which all are called
:o practise, might have thrown off or
endured with resignation. But the
difficulty with Randolph was, that his
was not a healthy temperament. How
ever he may have struggled for the
sound mind through the defects of an
irregular education, and he certainly
did struggle, its incentive and instru
ment, the sound body, was wanting.
His frame was always delicate. In
youth he was undergrown, thin and
awkward. It is said that he grew a
head taller after he was twenty-three.
The progress of his life is the progress
of disease. Within this morbid anatomy
was lodged a quick, fiery spirit, — as he
himself expressed it, "a spice of the
devil in my temper." A body and
mind of these dispositions would have
shafed under the most felicitous cir-

' Letters of John Randolph to a young Relative, 190-1.

cumstances. They make their own
troubles in the world, changing the
sunlight of heaven to darkness. But
there were real shadows cast upon the
boyhood and youth of Randolph. The
first breaking up of the household
came from the British, when the family
was driven in hot haste from its plea
sant Matoax by the invasion of the
traitor Arnold. There were other es
tates in the family, however, and Bi
zarre, for many years the residence of
Randolph, opened its friendly arms to
the young mother and her babe of a
few days old. Ruthless scenes of war,
these ! The head of the family, the ex
cellent St. George Tucker, was on duty
in the field leading the county militia.
He served afterwards with Greene and
Lafayette. The home education was
fatally interrupted, but the school of
Walker Maury offered its aid and was
accepted. In that seminary in Orange
County, and afterwards in a grammar
school in alliance with William and
Mary, Randolph learnt the elements of
the Greek and Latin languages, in both
of which doubtless he would have be
come something of an adept had he not
been checked by delicate health, and
called away to a visit with his parents
to Bermuda. He exchanged his copy
of Sallust, as a memorial of friendship
for ¦ that belonging to his life-long
friend, Tazewell, and writing on its
blank page the line of Virgil : " Ccelum
non animum mutant, qui trans mare
currunt," the boy of eleven took his
departure from Williamsburg. After
his return from Bermuda, he passed a
short time at Princeton College, in
New Jersey. He recalled afterwards

JOHN RANDOLPH.

9]

his. exercises in oratory in that institu
te on. He wotdd not speak, if he could
avoid it, he says in a letter, and then
only, without gesture, the shortest
piece he had in his memory. Yet. he
talks of his conscious superiority in de
livery , and elocution, and heaps con
tempt upon the hOnOrs which were
not awarded, to him ! The inconsist
ency shows Randolph at that time to
have had, something of his. genius' for
oratory struggling within' him.
From Princeton he was summoned
home by the death of his mother, the
one being whose prayers and counsel
and nameless influences might have
Soothed his fretful , spirit. The grave
yard at Matoax gathered another stone,
which lay heavily upon his heart.
These old. griefs always lived within
him. His imagination, stimulated by
a life of suffering, never allowed him
to forget a past sorrow. In the dark
hours of his wounded spirit, the pure
image of that " only, one human being
who ever knew me," rose before him.
It was thus he wrote after the duel
with Henry Clay. " Rarely," adds his
biographer, " did he come to Peters
burg or its vicinity, that he did not
visit old Matoax in its wasted solitude,
and shed tears over the grave of those
honored parents, by whose side it was
the last wish of his heart. to be bur
ied."1 A few months after this event, in
June 1788, he went, full of animation
in the cause of literature, to Columbia
College at New York. There he be
came attached to Cochrane, the " hu-
' Garland, I. 25.

manity, professor," of whom he took
lessons, in private, paying the fees out
of his pocket money. " We read De
mosthenes together, and I used to cry
for indignation at the success of Philip's
arts and arms over the liberties of
Greece." The teacher left for Nova
Scotia under some provocation, and the
pupil, with no personal influence to
excite his powers, suffered his studies
to languish. There were lessons at
New' York, however, in those; days, be
side those within the college walls. It
was the time of the inauguration of
Washington, and the assembly of the
first Congress under the Constitution.
Both these scenes were witnessed by
Randolph. They fix thus early, for
his school education was now ended,
the date of his political career. As
Patrick Henry and Richard Henry Lee
were the children of the Revolution,
the mind of Randolph was developed
apace with the struggles of the Consti
tution. His family alliances sharpened
his perceptions of the strife. Several
of his relatives were in the House of
Representatives ; he watched the de
bates eagerly, and when the Congress
met at its next session in Philadelphia,
he took up his residence there with his
kinsman, Edmund Randolph, then one
of the Cabinet. The master spirit,
Jefferson, was also his relative. His
biographer traces these influences and
sketches the national discussions which
agitated the public. They may be
summed up in the fears of the new
Constitution, and the efforts of French
propagandise. For the most part,
those who rejected the Constitution
adopted .the tricolor. The States

92

JOHN RANDOLPH.

Rights men were thoroughly demo
cratic. Randolph made a fusion of the
two elements, and puzzled the world
with his aristocratic Republicanism.
As a Virginian, he belonged to the
Anti-Federalists ; as a man of the na
tion, he drew his political philosophy
from that nursing-father, Edmund
Burke, with an unction which was not
surpassed by the devotion of Fisher
Ames himself.
New trials and personal discipline
were to intervene before Randolph
committed himself to his long public
career. He had continued to reside in
Philadelphia, bearing his part in the
friendship and society of the place, un
der the roof of his relative, Edmund
Randolph, till he became of age, when
he returned to Virginia and entered On
the management of his landed estates,
which, in common with much of the
property of the State, were greatly em
barrassed by foreign debt. It was a
custom of the planters in the old colo
ny times to mortgage their lands to Brit
ish creditors, for advances on the crops.
This became a gradually increasing in
heritance of debt which the sponge of
the Revolution did not wipe out,
though considerable opposition was
made to its payment in Virginia, en
forced by the eloquence of Patrick
Henry, who had been retained to plead
against the foreign claimants. The
Randolphs had to provide for their
full share of the wasteful extravagance
of their forefathers. The estates were
now divided between the elder brother,
Richard, and John Randolph of Roan
oke, as he was now fully entitled to
sail himself. The latter resided with

Richard, the head of the family at Bi
zarre. On his return from a visit to
Georgia in 1796, he was met by the
intelligence of his brother's death, ano
ther seed of anguish sown in the well
watered plot of his bitter recollections.
Sorrows such as these, indeed, are the
common lot of humanity: they are
borne by delicate women, by sensitive
youth, and enfeebled age : we have all
such " gatherings in the heavens ;"* it is
the story of this huge volume — for
what is biography but the story of
death, as of life ? What are our books
and libraries but words from splendid
cenotaphs of the departed ? The wea
pon indeed is old, but each stroke is
new; the blood must flow — the tears
must follow. The loss to the wayward,
sensitive Randolph, of such a brother,
in such a home, was great. Richard
appears to have been a model of chiv-
alric character, the Very being to pro
tect the genius and secure the allegi
ance of his wayward brother. If to
this loss we are to add the story of an
unhappy attachment, darkly hinted at
by his biographer, to a lady who rejected
his passionate attentions, we may see
another staff removed wilich might
have propped this naked life, at once
so dependent and so haughty. Other
men, again, have endured these things
and more, and grown strong; but
theirs has not been the angry spirit of
Byron, cramped in the body of Pope.
The reader may desire some particu
lars of this courtship. A recent feeling
tribute to Randolph, by an eloquent

1 The touching expression of the historian Hallam, in
his old age, bereft of his accomplished sons.

JOHN RANDOLPH.

93

writer of Virginia,1 supplies us with a
sketch of the scene. The incidents
must be left to the hearts of lovers.
" Yesterday^" says Mr. Cooke, " I vis
ited an old ante-Revolutionary mansion,
vvhere many hours of his early man
hood were passed — where he paid his
addresses to the lady of whom he said,
'I loved, her more than my own soul,
or Him that created itj' and whom he
was thinking of long, weary years after-
wardj when he wrote to his friend, ' I,
too am wretched !' The old mansion
seemed to illustrate and make real
again, so to speak, the tragedy which
had been played there at the end of
the last century. All around was sug
gestive of the past, and seemed as it
were to shut out and do aWay with
the present. The old wainscoting ex
tended as in ancient English castles
and country-houses, from the narrow
mantelpiece to the ceiling, around which
ran h heavy carved cornice of age-em
browned timber. The mantelpiece it
self was decorated with ponderous
Gothic ornaments. In the wide fire
place the tall old andirons, supporting
the cheerfully blazing logs, rose up like
ghorts. The windows, tall and narrow,
were scratched over with names — the
names of ladies fair, gone long ago into
the dust from which they came ; and
among these names I read ' Maria
W  ,' one whom we may call,
without exaggeration, ' the fate of
John Randolph.'
"Her portrait was on the wall, in
its old oaken frame — the canvas cracked

1 Mr. John Esten Cooke, in a paper on the " Early
Days of Randolph," one of a series on the illustrious men
of Virginia, contributed to " The Century " newspaper.
n.— 12

and falling away — but the face looking
out upon you still, with its lurking
smile, and large dark eyes as it looked
long ago — the real- face of a living wo
man. There were two portraits of the
lady. The one to which I have re
ferred, represents her as a child almost,
with a profusion of brown hair, cut
short upon the forehead, but falling
in long locks upon the bare, white
shoulders and the bosom. Around the
young lady's figure is clasped a full
lace dress, the huge plaits reposing on
her neck. The pretty face looks out
from the frame of curls, with the calm,
collected smile of which I have spoken ;
you see in it the germ, as it were, of
the opposite portrait. The same per:
son is represented therein, as she apr
peared in middle age — indeed, just be
fore her death. A lace veil is thrown
around the intelligent * features of the
beautiful woman, and is gathered care
lessly in the Spanish fashion, with the
white right hand. The portrait was
unfinished when she died ; the veil was
thus thrown by the painter across the
forehead just above >the eyes, after vain
attempts to accurately recall the upper
portion of the countenance."
The whole inventory— the schedule
of this bankrupt property of the heart :
two portraits at the beginning and end
of life, a diamond tracing on a pane of
glass, a piece of wainscoting, an old
doorstep, from which the lover depart
ed, leaving behind him what little re
mained of youth and happiness.
In despair, the proud, melancholy,
wounded lord of encumbered acres, in
a fit of caprice almost, offered himself
to the people as their representative in

u

JOHN RANDOLPH.

Congress. It was the time and place,
the Charlotte Court House, which wit
nessed the last great speech of Patrick
Henry. John Randolph followed him
on the stump — impar congressus Achil-
li, it may well have appeared to the
bystanders. Randolph, however, had
the popular side, though he spoke in
opposition to Henry, who, it will be
remembered, on that occasion publicly
proclaimed his adhesion to Federalism
— even to the repressive measures, the
alien and sedition laws of John Adams.
Randolph took his seat in the Con
gress of 1800. His first speech was on
a Republican motion for the reduction
of the army, to which he applied the
term mercenaries, in contradistinction
to the voluntary militia force. In the
evening certain military officers made
his remarks a means of annoyance at
the theatre. He considered it an in
vasion of privilege, and addressed the
President upon the subject. By the
President it was sent to the House ; a
committee was appointed, resolutions
were reported, debated and thrown
out. It was certainly rather a peculiar
introduction to the public ; but in the
heat of politics, anything which marked
a member's position was of consequence,
and John Randolph became an object
of attention.
For thirty years he was regularly re
turned to the councils of the nation.
He was all this while, with the excep
tion of two years in the Senate, in the
House of Representatives. Washing
ton knew him as well as she learnt to
know Clay, Webster, Calhoun or Ben
ton. For this long period he was a
celebrity in Congress. His personal

eccentricities, his lank appearance, his
voice shrieking in its higher tones,
his withering sarcasm, his splenetic
moods, the purity and elegance of his
phraseology, the independence and
honesty of his sentiments, all united
in engaging the public attention, which
is always attracted by strong peculiar
ities and deeply affected by manly
convictions; which is irresistibly en
ticed by so remarkable a union. There
was not a meeting or an assembly of
half a dozen persons of intelligence in
the country through his active period,
which did not discuss the last sharp
saying or denunciation of John Ran
dolph. He prided himself on his aris
tocracy ; but it was not an aristocracy
of luxury and expense, of show and
vanity, for which he had a contempt
great as his admiration for ancestral
acres ; — the brightest gem he saw in
her coronet was truth. For this he
valued wealth and station, inculcated
economy, and treated debt as a dis
grace : — it was an invasion of a man's
pride and independence.
During his thirty years at Washing
ton he represented the old States
Rights party of Virginia. He witnessed
the election of Jefferson and bore an
active part in that of Jackson, who had
no brighter, more subtle partisan than
Randolph, when in one of his most
brilliant speeches he turned the very
deficiencies of the old chieftain to his
honor. The late Senator Benton, in
his "Thirty Years' View," tells us that
" during the first six years of Jefferson's
administration, Randolph was the Mu
rat of his party, brilliant in the charge,
and always ready for it ; and valued in

JOHN RANDOLPH.

95

the council as well as in the field. For
more than thirty years he was the poli
tical meteor of Congress, blazing with
undiminished splendor during the whole
time, and often appearing as the ' plan
etary plague,' which shed, not war and
pestilence on nations, but agony and
fear on members. His sarcasm was
keen, refined-, withering — ^with a great
tendency to indulge in it ; but, as he
believed, as a lawful parliamentary
weapon to effect some desirable pur
pose. Pretension, meanness and dema-
gogism were the frequent subjects of
the excercise of his talent ; and, when
confined to them, he was the benefactor
of the House. Wit and genius, all al
lowed him ; sagacity was a quality of
his mind, visible to all observers-^-and
which gave him an intuitive insight
into the effect of measures." He long
held the responsible post of chairman
of the Committee of Ways and Means.
Among the leading questions with
which he was identified were the claims
growing out of the swindling Yazoo
land speculation of Georgia, of which
he was a resolute opponent ; the mea
sures leading to the war of 1812, which
he constantly questioned ; the election
of Madison, when he was still in oppo
sition ; the compromise of the Missouri
bill, which he denounced ; the procla
mation of Jackson, which he resented
with acrimony. In the debates, grow
ing out of these questions, he left his
record in many a pungent remark.
"Masterly inactivity," which he com
mended to the General Government
in policy affecting the States, and
"dough faces," a term which he ap
plied in the course of the Missouri

debate, are phrases which will long
live in our political vocabulary. It
was a characteristic of his speeches to
seize eagerly upon his conclusion, hud
dling argument upon argument mixed
with Latin quotation and familiar al
lusion. In apology for these flying
leaps of oratory, we may accept a fable
written by himself: "A caterpillar
comes to a fence; he crawls to the bot
tom of the ditch and over the fence ;
some one of his hundred feet always in
contact with the object upon which he
moves ; a gallant horseman, at a flying
leap, clears both ditch and fence.
' Stop !' says the caterpillar, ' you are
too flighty, you want connection and
continuity ; it took me an hour to get
over ; you can't be as sure as I am,
who have never quitted the subject,
that you have overcome the difficulty
and are fairly over the fence.' ' Thou
miserable reptile,' replies our huntsman,
' if, like you, I crawled over the earth
slowly and painfully, should I ever
catch a fox, or'be anything more than
a wretched caterpillar V * ,
It was during Randolph's short period
in the Senate, in April, 1826, that his
famous duel occurred with Henry Clay.
It grew out of terms employed in a
speech by Randolph on the Panama
mission, characterizing the union of
Clay with Adams as " the coalition of
Blifil and Black George, — the combina
tion, unheard of till then, of the puri
tan with the blackleg." Clay chal
lenged Randolph. The latter accepted
the call on a punctilio. As a senator
he would render no explanation- for
1 Garland, II. 300.

96

JOHN RANDOLPH.

words spoken in debate ; as a man, he
would give satisfaction for an injury.
A resolution like this admitted no ad-
j ustment. To preserve his consistency,
Randolph resolved not to fire at his
antagonist, subtly arguing that, if he
did, he would admit the right to be
questioned. So the parties met on the
bank of the Potomac. Randolph chose
the Virginia side, that if he fell it
might be on the soil of his State. The
word was to be given by the seconds,
for reasons of humanity, with great
quickness. Clay objected to this rapid
ity, when Randolph, fancying in it a
murderous intention, altered his resolu
tion not to fire, to the resolve simply
to wound his antagonist. Neither
shot of the first fire took effect. At
the second, Randolph resumed his ori
ginal intent and fired in the air ; Clay's
bullet passed through the skirt of his
coat. The parties advanced to meet
each other, and a prompt reconciliation
ensued.1 The whole transaction is cha
racteristic of Randolph, of his subtlety
of mind, his courage and chivalric de
votion to a lofty idea of magnanimity.
On his last visit to Washington, when
near his death, he was taken to the
Senate and placed near Mr. Clay, who
was speaking. He desired to be raised
that he might hear " that voice " again.
Mr. Clay came to him and offered his
hand : " Mr. Randolph, I hope you are
better, sir." "No, sir," replied Ran
dolph, " I am a dying man, and I came
here expressly to have this interview
with you."
In an interval of his Congressional
* Benton's Thirty Years View, I. 70-7.

duties, in March, 1822, Randolph visit
ed England for the first time. Enthu
siasm is perhaps too cheerful a word to
be applied to the movements of his
mind, but he certainly took a strong
interest in this pilgrimage to the land
of his fathers. His geographical stu
dies had given him a better acquaint
ance with it than that of most Eng
lishmen. On approaching the Irish
coast he drew delight out of the stores
of his knowledge, from spots where
others saw but barrenness. The island
of Rathlin recalled to him a fund of
antiquarian lore. Snowdon and the
Welsh hills brought before his eye the
" Bard" of Gray. " Thank God !" he
exclaimed, on seeing England, " that I
have lived to behold the land of Shak-
speare, of Milton, of my forefathers !
May her greatness increase through all
time." Maria Edgeworth and Eliza
beth Fry were especial objects of his^
regard. He met accidentally with the
poet Moore, under the gallery of the
House of Commons. In a conversation
with his friend Harvey,1 he described
the bard as " a spruce, dapper little •
gentleman," who turned out "a most
fascinating, witty fellow." Moore was
sufficiently tickled with the interview
and the Virginian's compliments to
make a note of the affair in his diary — ¦
" Sat next Bandolph, the famous Ame
rican orator; a singular looking man,
with a young old face, and a short,
small body, mounted upon a pair of
high crane legs and thighs, so that,
when he stood up, you did not know
1 Jacob Harvey, of New York, who published in th«
Journal of Commerce, a very interesting series of Recol
lections of Randolph.

JOHN RANDOLPH.

9?

when he was to end, and a squeaking
voice like a boy's just before breaking
into manhood. His manner, too,
strange and pedantic, but his. powers
of eloquence, Washington Irving tells
me, wonderful." l Having travelled
about England, and visited Scotland,
Randolph returned home in November.
In the summer of 1824 he again visit
ed England, when he included Paris in
his tour. ¦*>
Randolph finally retired from the
House of Representatives, in which he
served a single term after his two
years in the Senate, March, 1829. He
was immediately afterward elected to
the Virginia Convention, which met
for the revision of the Constitution, in
October, 1829, and took an active part
in its debates. The convention was
packed with the celebrities of the State,
the Madisons, Marsh-alls, Monroes and
others, but Randolph of Roanoke was
paramount among them. His speech
on a proposed provision for future
amendments in the Constitution, is full
of that political wisdom which is drawn
from private life, the family and soci
ety, admirably enforced, such as could
have called forth applause from his
master, Edmund Burke.
The mission to Russia followed.
Men stared in those days, as at the
sight of a comet, at his departure for
St. Petersburg ; a wild destination for
a shattered invalid, who called for a
milder climate than his own Virginia.
It was in his view a roundabout way
of getting to the south of Europe, and
after a short trial of its summer severi-
1 Moore's Diary, 30th May, 1822.

ties, among which, he insisted, was the
subjection of his man Juba, the con
stant companion of his travels, to a
fit of illness — a clear case of yellow
fever — and the slightest modicum of
diplomacy, he turned his steps to Eng
land. In the autumn of 1,831. he re
turned, to the United States. A few
more speeches, a little more political
agitation — this time at the expense of
his old friend, Jackson — and the end
came. He had long kept up a hand to
hand fight with death, and now of late
years had found his best security in
flight. He kept posting and travelling,
and was on his way to the packet for
England, when he was finally arrested
at Philadelphia, at the age of sixty,
June 24, 1833. He died among stran
gers, his faithful black servant, John,
the solitary representative of his Virgi
nia home, by his side, in a room of the
City Hotel. The last scenes of his life
have been laid before the world. It is
a story of pain, of agony Avhich had be
come so inwrought with his entire ex
istence that it does not seem strange on
his lips now. His call for his father's
golden shirt-stud to be placed on his
bosom as . he was dying, is veiy touch
ing. The word " Remorse," which he
ordered to be written down, calling
for a dictionary — " Get a dictionary,
let me see the word," has an air of de
lirium. Not so his reiterated provisions
for his slaves whom he had manumitted
by his will. It was the cherished pur
pose c f his life which he had inherited
with his brother's example, and surely
of all acts to close his troubled pilgrim
age, that from him was most accepta
ble — an act of mercy to the race which

98

JOHN RANDOLPH.

had ever furnished him in his multi
plied sorrows, kind nurses and faithful
friends. Randolph lived in dread of insanity
and would often quote Johnson's sad
lines —
" In life's last scene, what prodigies surprise,
Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise 1
From Marlborough's eyes the streams of dotage
flow,
And Swift expires, a driveller and a show."
He was spared, however, that fate.
We may believe, too, that in the many
thoughts which crowded his excited
brain, the consolations of religion were
not wanting to his later years. In his
youth he had been noted as a free
thinker; he afterwards underwent a
" conversion ;" in his better moments,
when he was most himself, he was cer
tainly a devout man.
The speeches of Randolph have been
fairly reported, and should be separately
published and well edited. Many just
remarks and sound maxims of life, as
well as witty sayings, will be found in
them. In his conduct Randolph was
erratic; the pressure of disease upon
his feeble frame sometimes brought him
within the verge of insanity ; but there

was no incoherency in the sagacity of
his better moments. No sounder ad
vice to youth, more kind, persistent,
earnest on common topics of daily life
was ever given than that which lit
wrote to his nephew, Dr. Theodore
Bland Dudley, in the epistles which he
has published. Labor, Honor, Truth
are his topics, with the minor moral
ities of life reaching down to gram
matical accuracies and the folding of
a letter. It is sad to see the corres
pondence darken as the years thicken.
Little talk now of books and ele
vated ideas, but a fast increasing ner
vous sensibility and melancholy, with
much of the weather, of sciaticas, lum
bago, defluxions, and more deadly evils.
He would render a good service to
the world, who should throw aside
these relics of suffering and disease,
and give the public the brighter,
healthier moments of John Ran
dolph. His broad Virginia acres, the
homes of his youth, his desk in Con
gress, his eloquence, the "slow, un-
moving finger," pointed in scorn of
baseness, his friends, his horses, his
books, his faithful slaves, would figure
in such a narrative.

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Alonao Chappel.

re , hi ,tu

WASHINGTON IRVING.

Seldom does biography offer to us
so pleasing a subject as the life of
Washington Irving. It is of beauty
and beneficence from the beginning to
the close— the course of a quiet, tran
quil river, fed at its source by the pur
ity of rural fountains ; gathering fer
tility on its. banks as it advances ;
pursuing its path through the loveliness
of nature and by the " towered cities "
of men, to lapse into final tranquillity
beneath the whispering of the groves
softly sighing on the borders of the all-re
ceiving ocean. Many were the felicities
of the life of Irving. Of a good stock,
of honorable parentage, happy in the
associations of his youth ; gifted with a
kindly genius, sure to receive the bless

ing which it

gave,

attracted to the

great and good and beloved by them ;
finding its nutriment. in the heroic in
histoiy and the amiable in life ; return
ing that generous culture in enduring
pictures in most valued books; writing
its name on the monuments of Colum
bus, Washington and Goldsmith ; fond
ly remembered at Stratford upon Avon,
and by the pensive courts of the Alham-
bra; endeared to many a cliff and wind
ing valley of his native Hudson: — his
menioiy, surely, by the side of that gen
erous stream will be kept green and
flourishing with undying affection.

1£ the felicity of a poem desired by
the exquisite Roman bard, that it
should be consistent with itself and
proceed to the end as it commenced at
the beginning, be a just measure of the
happmess of life, Washington Irving
enjoyed that prosperity.
The ancestry of Irving belongs to an
ancient line in Scotland, which has
been traced to the first years of the
fourteenth century. It is known as
" the knightly family of Drum," from
an old castle still occupied by the de
scendants, on the banks of the Dee.
An early member of the family settled
in the Orkneys, where the race flour
ished and faded, " and dwindled, and
dwindled, and dwindled, until the last
of them, nearly a hundred years since,
sought a new home in this New World
of ours."1 This was William Irving,
who arrived in New York in 1760,
bringing with him his wife, an English
lady of Cornwall, whose maiden name
was Saunders. These were the parents
of Washington Living.
He was born in William street, New
York, April 3, 1783. One of the ear-
liest recorded incidents of his life, he
probably shared in common with many
1 The expression is that of Washington Irving himself.
We find it in a family sketch in the Richmond Co. Ga
zette, Dec. 14, 1869.

100

WASHINGTON IRVING.

children of the period ; but it is better
worth remembering in his case than
the others. His Scotch nurse' taking
him out one day — it was the time of
Washington's inauguration, and the
first Congress in New York — fell in
with the Father of his Country, and
eagerly seizing the opportunity, pre
sented her charge to his notice. " Please,
your excellency, here's a bairn that's
called after you !" Washington, whose
kind nature was not averse to such so
licitations, laid his hand upon the head
of the child and blessed it. "That
blessing," said Irving, in one of his lat
est years, " I have reason to believe has
attended me through life."
Irving's schooldays were not over
rigorous. He was not robust, and thus
escaped some of the usual persecutions
of the pedagogues; for the tradition
runs that he was not very bright in
these early exercises. Coming home
one day, he told his mother, " The ma
dam says I am a dunce ; isn't it a pity !"
The story is worth telling, as a hint to
schoolmasters, upon whom Dame Na
ture is forever playing these mystifica
tions. In Irving's story it simply wit
nesses that he had a genius of his own,
better adapted to one thing than ano
ther. It does not appear, however,
that he derived much from the schools
of his day ; and as ill health prevented
his entering Columbia College, he
passed through life with little know
ledge of Greek and Latin, and probably
none worth mentioning of Greek. His
home education in English literature
was more thuiough. He read Chaucer
and Spenser, Addison and Goldsmith,
and the other excellent old-fashioned

volumes of the British classical book
shelf. There was nothing in the con
temporary literature of the time spe
cially to engage his attention ; nothing
at all to wake a boy's heart at home, and
no Dickens to stir his perceptions from
the other side of the water. This read
ing of old books was, doubtless, favor
able to the employment of his imagina
tion, a faculty which is always excited
by pictures of the past and distant.
The youth soon found that the cloth in
this old wardrobe of the days of Addi
son and Dr. Johnson was sound enough
to bear cutting down and refitting for
the limbs of another generation. So
the boy became an essayist of the
school of the Spectator, and the citizen
of the World. His first production of
which we have any knowledge was
written at the age of nineteen, the
"Letters of Jonathan Oldstyle," a series
of papers on the follies and habits of
the town, with an especial leaning to
its theatrical shows, which he contri
buted to the "Morning Chronicle," a
political daily newspaper which had
been recently commenced by his elder
brother, Dr. Peter Irving. These pa
pers are lively and humorous produc
tions, and though, of course, they do
not equal the polish of the author's
later style, yet they are certainly re
markable for their ease and finish.
The youth was evidently on the
right track, and knew well what he
was about.
The next incident we have to record
is a pilgrimage to Europe, induced by
symptoms of ill health. At this time
and for some years after, Mr. Irving
was threatened Avith pulmonary diffi-

WASHINGTON IRYING.

101

culties. • Indeed, the likeness painted
by Jarvis, in his early manhood, bears
painful indications of this type of con
stitution. He lived to outgrow it en-

There can be.no more pleasing
surprise than a glance at the bril
liant prime, from the pencil of Newton
and Leslie, by the side of the melan
choly portrait by Jarvis. His tour
carried him to France, Italy, Switzer
land and England. An acquaintance
with Washington Allston, the refined
artist at Rome, half persuaded him to
turn his attention to painting, for
which he. had considerable taste and
inclination. The pursuit, amidst the
beauties and glories of the arts in
the Eternal City, cajoled his imagi
nation with the most enticing allure
ments. "For two or three days," he
said, " the idea took full possession
of my mind ; but I believe it owed its
main force to the lovely evening ram
ble in which I first conceived it, and to
the romantic friendship I had formed
with Allston. Whenever it recurred
to mind, it was always connected with
beautiful Italian scenery, palaces and
statues, and fountains, and terraced
gardens, and Allston as the companion
of my studio. I promised myself a
world of enjoyment in his society, and
in the society of several artists with
whom he had made me acquainted,
and pictured forth a scheme of life, all
tinted with the rainbow hues of youth
ful promise. My lot in life, however,
was differently cast. Doubts and fears
gradually clouded over my prospects ;
the rainbow tints faded away ; I began
to apprehend a sterile reality, so I gave
up the transient but delightful pros-
n.— 13

pect of remaining in B,ome with Allston, .
and turning painter." 1
The law was the rather unattractive
alternative, and to the law for awhile
the young enthusiast returned to New
York, after an absence abroad of two
years. He read law with the late
Judge Josiah Ogden Hoffman, and old
citizens remember his attorney's sign,
for he was admitted to practice ; but
he did not pursue the profession.
The very year after his introduction
to the bar, in January, 1807, appeared
in New York the first number of " Sal
magundi; or, the Whim- whains and
Opinions of Launcelot Langstaff, Esq.,
and others," a small 18mo. publication
of twenty pages, which was destined
to make its mark upon the town, and
attract the notice of a wider, circle.
This sportive journal was the produc
tion of three very clever wits — Wash
ington Irving, his elder brother, Wil
liam, the verse-maker of the fraternity,
and James K. Paulding, who also then
first rose to notice in this little constel
lation. New York was not at that time
too large to be under the control of a
skilful, genial satirist. Compared with
the metropolis of the present . day, it
was but a huge family, where every
body of any consequence was known
by everybody else. A postman might
run over it in an hour. One bell could
ring all its inhabitants to prayer and
one theatre sufficed for its entertain
ment. The city, in fact, while large
enough to afford material for and shel
ter a humorist with some degree of
privacy, was, so far as society was con-

1 Cyclopaedia of American Literature, Art. "Allston."

102

WASHINGTON IRVING.

cerned, a very manageable, convenient
instrument to play upOn. The genial
wits of " Salmagundi " touched the
strings cunningly, and the whole town,
with agitated nerves, contributed to
the music. The humors of fashion,
dress, the dancing assemblies, the mili
tia displays, the elections, in turn yield
ed their sport ; while graver touches
of pathos and sketches of character
were interposed, of lasting interest.
There are passages in " Salmagundi,"
of feeling, humor and description
which the writers hardly surpassed.
The work, in fine, is well worthy to
take its place, not at the end of the
series of the British classical essayists,
but at the head of that new American
set, which includes "The Idle Man,"
" The Old Bachelor," " The Lorgnette,"
and other kindred meritorious produc
tions. " Salmagundi " closed at the end of
the year, with its twentieth number,
and was shortly succeeded by the
famous " History of New York from
the Beginning of the World to the End
of the Dutch Dynasty, by Diedrich
Knickerbocker," a work of considera
ble compass and most felicitous execu
tion. The book was commenced with
little regard to the form in which it
finally made its appearance. The in
tention at first seems to have been to
prepare something with the general
notion subsequently wrought out in
Mr. Poole's very clever "Little Ped-
lington Papers" — to ridicule the pre
tensions of the town, which had been
aggravated by the appearance of a
hand-book of a highly provincial char
acter, entitled "A Picture of New

York." The parody, as in the parallel
instance of Mr. Dickens's "Pickwick
Papers," soon outgrew itself.
Previously to its publication, some
thing like a grave history was looked
for from Diedrich Knickerbocker. To
whet the public appetite, an advertise
ment was inserted in the "Evening
Post," narrating, under the heading
"Distressing," the departure from his
lodgings at the Columbian Hotel, Mul
berry street, of " a small elderly gen
tleman, dressed in an old black coat
and cocked hat, by the name of Knicker
bocker," and asking printers to serve the
cause of humanity by giving the notice
insertion. " A Traveller " next sends
a random note of an old gentleman
answering the description, having been
seen on the road to Albany, above
Kingsbridge. After the lapse of a rea
sonable time, Seth Handaside, the Yan
kee landlord, announces his, intention
to remunerate himself by the sale of a
curious manuscript Mr. Knickerbocker
had left behind him. The same num
ber of the journal had an advertisement
of the publication by Inskeep and
Bradford. There is a great deal of fun in Knick
erbocker — some sheer burlesque, which
begins and ends with the page, but far
more genuine humor applicable to
wider scenes and more real adventures.
The old Dutch families took offence at
the free use of their names, which wert
very unceremoniously handled.
One old inhabitant of the North
River, who rejoiced in the patronymic
itself, Knickerbocker, it is said was
especially aggrieved, and we have
heard of the author's exclusion, in

WASHINGTON IRVING.

103

one instance, from the entertainments
of a leading colonial family. Years
after, the spirit of the work was con
demned in a grave paper read be
fore the New York Historical Society ;
and the censure has of late been re
vived by so judicious a person as .Mr.
Edward Everett.1 The truth of the
matter is, that society must be very
weak indeed, which cannot bear the in
fliction of so really good natured a jest
as this Diedrich Knickerbocker's His
tory of New York. Though it occu
pied the attention of the public, and
to a certain degree ga,ve color to rather
a ludicrous estimate of our Dutch fore
fathers in the absence of popular his
tories, which it is perhaps a misfortune
were not written earlier, yet it has
proved no obstacle to the serious opera
tions of Clio, in the works of Brodhead,
O'Callaghan and others; while it has
in a thousand ways perpetuated the
memory of the old Dutch dynasties.
The Dutchmen of New York had never
been called Knickerbockers before;
now it is quite an accredited designa
tion, not without honor and esteem
throughout the world. In the words
of the author's apology, prefixed to the
revised edition of 1848 : " Before the
appearance of my work, the popular tra
ditions of our city Avere unrecorded;
the peculiar 'and racy customs and
usages derived from our Dutch progen
itors were unnoticed, or regarded with
indifference, or adverted to with a
sneer Now they form a convivial cur-

Mr Verplanck's Anniversary Discourse before the
New York Historical Society, December, 1818.— Mr. Kve-
rctt's obituary remarks on Irving, before the Massachu
setts HistoricalSociotv, December, 1859.

rency, and are brought forward on alj
occasions : they link our whole commu
nity together in good humor and good
fellowship ; they are the rallying points
of home feeling — the seasoning of our
civic festivities — the staple of local
tales and local pleasantries, and are so
harped upon by our writers of popular
fiction^ that I find myself almost crowd
ed off the legendary ground which I
was the first to explore, by the host
who have followed in my footsteps."
This home sensitiveness, of course,
was never felt abroad. A copy of the
work was sent by the author's friend,
Mr.Brevoort,to Sir Walter Scott. His
verdict upon this " most excellently
jocose history," as he termed it, is con
clusive. It was read in his family with
absolute riot of enjoyment. He com
pared it advantageously with Swift,
and failed not to note its more- serious
pathetic passages, which reminded him
of Sterne. This led the way afterward
to an introduction to Scott at Abbots-
ford, and the formation of a friend
ship which lived while Scott lived,
and which was cherished among the
most valued recollections of Irvinglg
life. His next literary performance was a
brief biography of the poet Campbell,
written for an American edition of the
poet's works. The author showed him
self at home in this department of
literature, in which he subsequently
became so greatly distinguished.
We hear of him now engaged in the
mercantile calling of his brother ; but
hardware and cutlery had little attrac
tion for him. The iron, it may be said,
never entered into his soul. When

1W

WASHINGTON IRVING.

the war with Great Britain shortly
after broke out, we find him on the
military staff of Governor Tompkins,
with the title of Colonel. Colonel Ir
ving ! It no more belonged to his
name than the hardware sign. Yet we
have no doubt he would have done
credit to it if called into active service.
As it proved, his pen was more in re
quisition than his sword. He was em
ployed, in the years 1813 and 1814, in
conducting the " Analectic Magazine,'
published by Moses Thomas, in Phila
delphia, and at that time specially de
voted to military and naval affairs. In
the original department of this work,
in which he was aided by Mr. Ver
planck and Mr. Paulding, he wrote,
beside other papers, the biographies
of Lieut. Burrows, Captain Lawrence,
Commodore Perry, and Captain Porter.
They are all spirited productions, cal
culated to warm the heart of the coun
try, justly proud of the brilliant achieve
ments of these worthies; while they
are quite free from the besetting sin in
such cases, of patriotic exaggeration.
At the close of the war he sailed for
Liverpool, and took charge of the
affairs of the mercantile house with
which he was connected. The sudden
change of business affairs at the peace
greatly embarrassed the firm. After
suffering the torture of the agony of
the counting-room during this period
of failing credit, he finally became dis
engaged from the affair, and directed
his steps to London and the booksel
lers for a livelihood.
He now turned his talent for obser
vation and description to account in
the production of the series of papers

included in the " Sketch Book." They
are the first fruits of his English expe
rience, mingled with some fanciful ere
ations, as the legends of Rip Van Win
kle and Sleepy Hollow, based on Ame
rican recollections. The great success
of the work was not attained at a sin
gle blow. There seemed to be no
opening for such a work in the English
market. The publication was, in fact,
commenced in New York, in numbers.
When a portion of it had thus ap
peared, it reached William Jerdan, the
editor of the "London Literary Ga
zette," whose practised eye detected at
once a good thing for his journal. He
reprinted several of the papers, when
the author offered the work to Murray.
The usual answer in such cases was
returned, couched in imposing phrase,
as a mark of respect : " If it would
not suit me to engage in the publica
tion of your work, it is only because I
do not see that scope in the nature of
it which would enable me to make
those satisfactory accounts," etc. In
this strait the author addressed Sir
Walter Scott, who, generously appre
ciating the man and his work, promised
his aid with Constable, and as the best
thing at hand in the meanwhile offered
Irving a salary of five hundred pounds
to conduct a weekly periodical at Ed
inburgh. His correspondent was, how
ever, too chary of his talents as an au
thor of all work to engage in this
undertaking. He put his book to
press in London at his own expense,
with John Miller, and Miller soon after
failed. Sir Walter, the beneficent clem
ex machintl, now opportunely happened
in London, and arranged the Dublica-

WASHINGTON IRVING.

10S

tion with Murray, who thenceforward
became the author's fast friend and
most liberal paymaster. The " Sketch
Book" was a brilliant success. Jeffrey
reviewed it, Lockhart admired^ Byron
praised and Moore sought the author's
acquaintance at Paris on the strength
of it.
"Bracebridge Hall" followed the
" Sketch Book " in 1822 ; and the close
of the next year brought its sequel, the
"Tales of a Traveller." All these
works have more or less the character
istics of the first member of the family.
There is an elaborate elegance of style,
a certain delicacy and sweetness of
sentiment, an easy grace of reflection, a
happy turn of description. The writer
does not draw a great deal on his in
vention for the characters or the inci
dents, but he managed to develop both
with skill, and, being always a jealous
watcher of his own powers, and cau
tious in feeling the pulse of the public,
he looked for new material before the
old was exhausted. There is a good
genius always waiting to help ability
and sincerity. Just as the essayist
may have felt the want of a new
field for his exertions, he was invited,
by Mr. Alexander H Everett, to Spain
with a view to the translation of the
collection of Spanish documents re
cently made by Navarrete from the
long and jealously secluded public
archives. He undertook the work,
which called for something far above
translation, and the essayist bloOmed
into the historian. The "History of
the Life and Voyages of Christopher
Columbus," appeared in due time, fol
lowed by the "Voyages and Disco

veries of the Companions of Colum
bus." Both w^orks greatly enhanced
the reputation of the author. Litera
ture, indeed, awards her highest hon
ors to the historian. History has just
laid Macaulay in Westminster Abbey.
Jeffrey reviewed the "Columbus"
with enthusiasm in the " Edinburgh,"
and the George IV. fifty guinea gold
medal was conferred upon Hallam
and Irving at the same time.
The literary execution of the "Co
lumbus " must be pronounced in gen
eral very happy. There is perhaps a
little cloying sweetness in its regular
ly constructed periods ; but these ele
gantly apportioned sentences are al
ways made to bear their full weight
of thought. The condensation is ad
mirable, while there is a richness of
phraseology, and a warm glow of the
imagination is spread over the whole.
It is not to be supposed that this ex
cellence was attained without labor. It
is the fiat of fate, says Wirt, from
which no power of genius can absolve
a man. Irving, at the suggestion of
Lieutenant Slidell, who pronounced
the style unequal, re-wrote nearly the
whole of the work. Professor Long
fellow, who saw Irving while it was
in progress in Spain, recalls the " pa
tient, persistent toil " of the author.
The genius of Irving delighted in these
Spanish themes. After he had made
the intimate acquaintance of various
parts of Europe, the land of the Sara
cen seemed to present to him the great
est attractions. He devoted his genius
to the revival of her history,- and the
embellishment of her legends. Had
opportunity permitted, he would doubt

106

WASHINGTON IRVING.

less have produced companion volumes
to the Columbus on themes which af
terwards engaged the pen of Prescott.
As it was, be gave the world those de
lightful books, the " Conquest of Gra
nada," the " Alhambra," the " Legends
of the Conquest of Spain," and " Maho
met and his Successors." His imagina
tion was thoroughly captivated by the
daring, pathetic, and tender scenes of
these old tales of adventure, with
which his genius was very apt to blend
some lurking touch of humor.
At the close of his long residence in
Spain, Mr. Irving passed some time in
England, enjoying for a while the post
of. secretary of legation to the Ameri
can embassy! He left London in 1832,
on his return to America, after an ab
sence of seventeen years, arriving in the
month of May, at New York, where he
found a most cordial welcome awaiting
him. A public dinner was given to him
by his friends, numbering some of
the most distinguished persons in the
country. Chancellor Kent presided at
the banquet. Irving was congratulated
in the handsomest terms on the eminent
services he had rendered the literature of
his countiy, and replied in the simplest
words, congratulating his fellow citizens
on their prosperity as he drew an attrac
tive picture of the growth and beauty
of New York, and expressed the warm
est emotions at his reception. His
essential modesty led him to value such
tributes highly ; though he very seldom
allowed himself to be put in the way
of them.
The sight of America appeared to
revive in him the freshness and adven
ture of youth. In the very summer of

his return he accompanied Mr. Ells
worth, one of the commissioners for
removing the Indian tribes to the
west of the Mississippi, a journey of
which he published an animated ac
count in 1835. This sharpened his
pen for the fascinating narrative enti
tled " Astoria, or Anecdotes of an En
terprise beyond the Rocky Mountains,"
which appeared the ensuing year, and
was followed by a work of similar cha
racter, the "Adventures of Captain
Bonneville, U.S.A., in the Rocky Moun
tains and the Far West." The skilful
grouping and picturesque narrative of
these books, rendering an otherwise
confused and encumbered story so
charming, leave us to regret, that so
much excellent matter of the kind
should be so frequently thrown away
for lack of these literary advantages.
Though Mr. Irving had received large
sums for copyright, yet from losses
from investment which he had experi
enced, his income could not at this
time have been large, for we find him
yielding to an agreement of a character
always irksome to a man of his tem
perament, to furnish regular monthly
articles to a periodical. Some of the
pleasantest of his later papers, howev
er, were written in this way for the
"Knickerbocker" magazine, in 1839
and 1840 ; a selection from which was
afterwards made by him in the volume
entitled " Wolfert's Roost."
In 1852, Mr. Irving received the ap
pointment from the government of
minister to Spain. Its announcement
by Daniel Webster, at whose sugges
tion it was made, was entirely unex
pected by him. A passing compli

WASHINGTON IRVING.

107

ment paid him at this time is worth
recording. It occurs in Mr. Charles
Dickens's *' American Notes," in a de
scription of a Presidential drawing
room at Washington, when Irving was
present in his new character for the
first and last time before going abroad.
"I sincerely believe," says Dickens,
" that in all the madness of American
politics, few public men would have
been so earnestly, devotedly and affec
tionately caressed as this most charm
ing writer : and I have seldom respect
ed a public assembly more than I did
this eager throng, when I saw them
turning with one mind from noisy ora
tors and officers of state, and flocking
with a generous and honest impulse
round the man of quiet pursuits : proud
in his promotion as reflecting back
upon their country: and grateful to
him with- their whole hearts for the
store of graceful fancies he had poured
out among them." .:
Mr. Irving passed , several years in
Spain in his diplomatic capacity, devot
ing himself assiduously to the duties
of his position. His dispatches in the
State Paper Office will doubtless, should
the time ever come for their publica
tion, present a valuable picture of the
changing political fortunes of the coun
try during his term.
On his return from Spain, Mr. Irving
made his home for the remainder of his
life at his ^beautiful countiy seat, "Sun-
nyside," on the eastern bank of the
Hudson, some twenty miles from New
York. Here he resided in the midst
of his family, consisting of his brother
and nieces, occasionally visiting his
frier.ils in Virginia and other portions

Of the country, but gradually limiting
his journeys to the neighboring city
At Sunnyside, in these later years, he
prepared the revised editions of his
books, which now became a source of
regular profit, wrote the " Life of Oliver
Goldsmith," and completed the crown
ing labor of his long literary career, the
" Life . of George Washington." The
interval between the publication of the
first of the five volumes and the last,
was five years. It was completed the
very year of his death. His design
was to present in simple, unambitious
narrative a thoroughly truthful view
of the character of Washington — of the
acts of his life with an impartial esti
mate of the men and agencies by which
he was surrounded. He attained all
this and more. His work has been
read with interest, nay, with affection,
and promises long to retain its hold
upon the public.
Mr. Irving had now reached the
close of life, with as few of the infirmi
ties as fall to the lot even of those ac
counted most fortunate. His health,
delicate in his youth, had strengthened
with his years, and during the long
periods of his residence abroad he
knew no illness. The breaking up of
his powers was gradual, affecting only
his physical strength. His mind — the
felicity of his thoughts, the beauty of his
expression, his style, were unimpaired
to the last. His death occurred sud^
clenly, in his Sunnyside cottage, as he
was retiring to rest on the night of
November 28, 1859. He fell with
scarcely a word —
" Death broke at once the vital chain,
And freed his soul the nearest way."

f s

108

WASHINGTON IRVING.

'' It was scarcely death," said an emi
nent artist1 to us, a dweller on the
banks of his own Hudson, thinking of
the fulness of years and honors, and
the mild departure — " it was a transla
tion." The good omen of this happily
rounded life was repeated on the day
of the funeral, which drew multitudes
of honored citizens from New York to
participate in the last rites. It was
the first of December, a day of unu
sual gentleness and beauty, the last,
as it proved, of the calm Indian sum
mer. All nature breathed tranquil
lity, as the sun descended upon the
sleeping river and silent evergreens.
Every shop in the village of Tarrytown,
where the services were performed at
Christ's Church, was shut, and the ut
most decorum prevailed throughout
the thronging crowd during the day
which closed upon his grave on the
hill-side of the Tarrytown cemetery. It
was, as President King, remarked at
the subsequent memorial meeting of
the New York Historical Society, "a
Washington Lving day." The country
will not soon forget the memorable
scene. The life of Washington Irving was
so timthful, so simple, so easily to be
read by all men, that few words are
needed for an analysis of his character.
He was primarily a man of genius — that
is, nature had given him a faculty of
doing what no one else could do pre
cisely, and doing it well. His talent
was no doubt improved by skill and
exercise; but we see it working in
1 Mr. Weir, of West Point.

his earliest books, when he could
scarcely have dreamt, of the author.
Indeed, he was thrown upon author
ship apparently by accident ; a lucky
shipwreck of his fortunes, as it proved,
for the world. In this faculty, which
he possessed better than anybody else
in America, the most important ingre
dient was humor — a kindly perception
of life, not unconscious of its weakness
es, tolerant of its frailties, capable of
throwing a beam of sunshine into the
darkness of its misfortunes. The heart
was evidently his logician ; a pure life
his best instructor. He loved litera
ture, but not at the expense of society.
Though his writings were fed by many
secret rills, flowing from the elder
worthies, the best source of his inspi
ration was daily life. He was always
true to its commonest, most real emo
tions. In all his personal intercourse with
others, in every relation of life, Mr. Ir
ving, in an eminent degree, exhibited
the qualities of the gentleman. They
were principles of thought and ac
tion, in the old definition of Sir Philip
Sidney, " seated in a heart of courtesy."
His manners, while they were charac
terized by the highest refinement, were
simple to a degree. His habits of liv
ing were plain, though not homely:
everything about him displayed good
taste, and an expense not below the
standard of his fortunes ; but- there was
no ostentation. No man stood more
open to new impressions. His sensibi
lity was excited by everything noble
or generous, and we may add, anything
which displayed humor of character
from whatever sphere of life the exam

WASHINGTON IRVING.

109

pie was drawn. His genius responded
to every honest touch of nature in lit
erature or art. He was a man of feel
ing, with the sympathies of a Macken
zie or a Goldsmith. Nor did these
emotions, with him, rest only in the
luxuries of sentiment. He was a prac
tical guide, counsellor and friend ;
and his* benevolence was not confined
to this charmed circle of home and
neighborhood. In public affairs, though
unfitted for the duties of the working
politician, his course was independent
and patriotic. No heart beat warmer
in love of countiy and the Union, and
the honor of his nation's flag. This is
worth mentioning in his case, for his
tastes and studies led him to retire
ment ; but he did not suffer it to be an
inglorious ease, to which higher ends
should be sacrificed.
Much has been said of the influence
upon his life of an early attachment.
He was engaged, to a daughter of the
late Judge Josiah Hoffman. The lady
died and her lover never married.

There is thought to be an allusion to
this in a beautiful passage in his
sketch of St. Mark's Eve in "Brace-
bridge Hall," where it is written ; —
"There are departed beings that I
have loved as I never again shall love
in this world— that have loved me as
I never again shall be loved." Mr.
Thackeray, the eminent novelist, has
mentioned this tenderly in a few words
of tribute to the memory of his friend ; —
" He had loved once in his life. The
lady he loved died ; and he, whom all
the world loved, never sought to re
place her. I can't say how much the
thought of that fidelity has touched
me. Does not the very cheerfulness of
his after life add to the pathos of that
untold story ? To grieve always was
not in his nature ; or, when he had his
sorrow, to bring all the world in to
condole with him and bemoan it. Deep
and quiet he lays the love of his heart
and buries it, and grass and flowera
grow over the scarred ground in due
time."

H.— 14

ABBOTT LAWRENCE.

The father of this liberal and enlight
ened merchant, Samuel Lawrence, was
a soldier of the Revolution, a descend
ant Of the early emigrants of the, name,
from an ancient stock in England, who
settled at Groton, in Massachusetts.
He was one of the minute-men who
stood ready for the field on the news
of Lexington. When word reached
his town of Groton, of the movement
of the British troops, on the instant he
was mounted, making his circuit of
seven miles; summoning his men and
returning to his father's house in thirty
minutes. In three hours he was ready
to march, and the next day, the 20th
of April, 1775, was at Cambridge,
ready for the battle of Bunker Hill, in
which he took part. He received a
bullet through his cap,, and a spent
grapeshot struck his arm. Providence
reserved him for other duties. He was
married in the summer of 1777, while
attached to the army, to Susanna Par
ker, of his native town, a lady who
survived him at an advanced age. As
a characteristic incident of the times,
we may mention that he was called
away from the wedding ceremony to
his post in the army within the hour.
His mother had given her opinion in
favor of the marriage, " as Susan had
better be Sam's widow than his forlorn

110

damsel." He was in the battle of
Rhode Island, and retired from the
service to his native town at the close
of 1778. There he pursued the life of
a farmer, an intelligent man of his
class, since we find him chosen a dea
con of the church, justice of the peace,
and an enlightened supporter of the
seminary in Groton, since enriched by
his sons, and bearing the family name
His two sons, who are associated in
fame, Amos and Abbott, were born in
that town respectively in the years
1786 and 1792.1 The brothers became
partners in business, and acquired their
fortunes and reputation together, so
that the story of one for a good por
tion of their lives is that of the other.
They were both educated in the public
school, and afterwards in the Academy
of Groton, as it was then called. Amos
being six years the elder, preceded his
brother in his devotion to business.
He passed from the Academy to the
store of a countiy merchant in the
town, and thence, on coming of age, to
Boston, where he went with twenty
dollars in his pocket to make acquaint
ances and procure credit, with a view
to settle as a storekeeper in his native

1 Amos Lawrence was born April 22, 1780; Abbott on
the 16th December, 1Y92.

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ABBOTT LAWRENCE.

Ill

place. Instead of-~this he accepted a
clerkship, with : characteristic sagacity
decbning a partnership ; his employer
failed, and before his first year of city
life was out, tha young adventurer was
established on his own account in a
small store in Cornhill. Abbott at this
time was fifteen years old and at school.
At sixteen, in October, 1808, he joined
his brother in Boston, as an apprentice.
An entry of Amos in his diary, records
his appearance: "In 1808 he came to
me as my apprentice,, bringing his bun
dle under his arrr^ with less than three
dollars in his pocket, and this was his
fortune." His brother, whose character
for industry and integrity was already
formed, adds, " a first-rate business lad
he was, but, like other bright lads,
needed the careful eye of a senior to
guard him from the pitfalls that he
was exposed to." 1 We do not find
him, however, neglecting his opportu
nities, for on the first of January, 1814,
when he had become of age, he was
taken in partnership by his brother on
equal shares, Amos putting in fifty
thousand dollars, which he had earned.
The " Bramble news," three days after
ward, knocked down the high price of
goods, and as the stock of the new
house was large, the junior partner saw
himself a bankrupt. He was generous
ly reassured by his brother, who offered
to cancel his obligations and secure
him five thousand dollars at the end of
the year. " He declined the offer,"
writes Amos, " saying I should lose
that and more beside^and, as he had

1 Diary and Correspondence of Amos Lawrence, edited
ty his son, William R Lawrence, p. 38.

enlisted, would do the best he could:"
Such was the character of the two
brothers, and such were the elements
of their success.
Abbott, who appears always to have
had a sufficiency of public spirit, dur
ing the overthrow of business by the
war, and the prospect of invasion, op
cupied himself with military duty as
a soldier, while his brother took charge
of the counting-house. His fondness
for a soldier's life even led him to make
application to the War Department for
a commission in the army ; but peace
intervening, the intention was aban
doned. Turning his attention anew
to commercial business; he was sent
by his brother to England in the first
vessel which left Boston after the
proclamation of peace. Abundance of
good counsel . followed him, with the
details of trade, in the fraternal corres
pondence. He proved his activity by
making his purchases at Manchestei
and dispatching them by the vessel in
which he sailed, which returned to
Boston within eighty-four days of her
departure — a most, fortunate venture,
for the goods were sold in a week at
enormous profits. " You are as famous
among your acquaintances here," wrote
Amos, " for the rapidity of your move
ments, as Bonaparte. Mr.  thinks
that you leave Bonaparte entirely in
the background. I really feel a little
prOud, my dear brother, of your con
duct. Few instances of like dispatch
are known."
Mr. Lawrence continued for some
time in England, and we have letters
to him in his brother's correspondence
of various dates, as he more than ouce

132

ABBOTT LAWRENCE.

visited that country on these business
missions. The affairs of the house pro
spered, and numerous expressions of
thankfulness are recorded in the diary
of Amos as the fortunes of the partners
increased. In 1819 Abbott was mar
ried to the daughter of the Hon. Timo
thy Bigelow, a lawyer of high standing
in Medford. He had been acquainted
with the lady from his youth. In
1821 his brother was elected to the
Massachusetts legislature, and about
the same time began to engage in those
manufacturing pursuits with which he
afterward became so greatly identified.
Of these occupations the Hon. Ed
ward Everett writes, in a notice of the
life of Abbott Lawrence published in
his writings : " He very early took an
interest in American manufactures. At
a time when the merchants of the
United States generally looked with
indifference, if not with distrust, upon
the attempt to compete with the fabrics
of Europe, Mr. Lawrence took a dif
ferent view of the subject, not from
selfish motives, for his interests at that
time were rather in the channels of
trade. But he felt the importance of
diversifying the pursuits, of a commu
nity, in order to the full development
of the endless variety of its talent.
He calculated much on the indomita
ble energy of the American mind, and
the matchless skill of the American
hand. He saw with impatience the
vast water-power with which Provi
dence has endowed the countiy run
ning to waste — a water-power equal in
the aggregate to the whole steam-power
of Great Britain. He regarded it as a
practical absurdity of the grossest kind

to consume coarse tissues made of the
cotton of India, and sold here at twice
and thrice the cost for which a vastly
better article could be made from the
product of our own soil ; and he consi
dered it but little less improvident to
send our cotton and our wool to Eu
rope, in order to employ foreign labor
in converting them into cloth for our
own consumption. On the contrary,
he saw benefits far beyond those of a
pecuniaiy nature, in building up a
great manufacturing system, which
should bring the raw material of the
South and the capital and manufactur
ing skill of the North into a mutually
beneficial connection. When he came
forward into life, India cottons of a
coarser and flimsier texture than any
thing that has ever been seen in this
country by any man under thirty-five
years of age, were sold in this market
at retail for a quarter of a dollar a
yard. Every attempt to manufacture
a better article was crushed by foreign
competition, acting upon imperfect ma
chinery, want of skill incident to a
novel enterprise, and the reluctance of
capital to seek new and experimental
investments.1 We are now, without
any diminution of our agriculture and
navigation, but on the contraiy with a
large increase of both, the second man
ufacturing countiy in the world. The
rising city which bears his name, on
the beautiful banks of the Merrimac,
will carry down to posterity no unwor
thy memorial of his participation in
this auspicious work."
In accordance with these views Mr

1 Everett's Orations and Speeches, III. SfiV-8, 875-B.

ABBOTT LAWRENCE.

113

Lawrence was a delegate to the Har-
risburg Convention of 1827, called to
promote the manufacturing interests of
the country. In 1834 he was elected
to the national House of Representa
tives, where he was placed on the Com
mittee of Ways and Means. He de
clined reelection, but was induced to
serve again a few years later, when a
severe attack of typhus fever at Wash
ington compelled him to resign his
seat and return home.1 He was at this
time and subsequently, looked upon,
from his wealth and position, as an in
fluential man in public affairs, of the
whig, politics of the school of Henry
Clay. He was also of course an ear
nest cooperator with Daniel Webster,
at whose suggestion, he ; received the
appointment of commissioner on behalf
of Massachusetts to negotiate with
Lord Ashburton on the settlement of
the eastern boundary question.
Beside his activity in the cause of
manufactures, he was early an earnest
advocate of the system of railways con
necting Boston with the great West.
Mr. Everett records his fulfilled pro
phecy of a quarter of a century ago —
an age in these matters—" We shall
live to see the banks of the upper Mis
sissippi connected by iron bands with
State street." The main interest, how
ever, with which his name will be
identified, for it belongs more peculiar
ly to his own liberality, without any
of that odor of gain which attaches to
the material questions of manufactures
and railway improvements, is the cause
of education. His establishment of the
'"Memoir of Hon. Abbott Lawrence, in New England
Historical and Genealogical Register, Oct., 18B6.

Lawrence Scientific School at Cam
bridge, by a donation in 1847 of fifty
thousand dollars, a sum which he after
wards doubled, was the crowning act
of his life. It was so felt by his bro
ther Amos, himself distinguished by
his charities and various similar acts of
philanthropy to schools and colleges.
It was beginning at the root of the ma
terial prosperity of the country ; for he
had the sagacity to perceive that ideas
were before facts, and that the devel
opment of railways and manufactures,
of trade and commerce, of agriculture,
of arts and mechanics, depended in the
first place upon scientific education.
That men might be properly trained and
educated at home, was an application
of the protective system which no theo
rists of political economy could oppose,
and no school of statesmen gainsay.
On his making the donation creating
this splendid foundation, his brother
Amos addressed him — " I hardly dare
trust myself to speak what I feel, and
therefore write a word to say that I
thank God I am spared to this day to
see accomplished by one so near and
dear to me, this last best work ever
done* by one of our name, which will
prove a better, title to true nobility
than any from the potentates of the
world. It is to impress on unborn
millions the great truth that our talents
are trusts committed to us for use, and
to be accounted for when the Mastei *
calls. ... It enriches your descendants
in a way that mere money never can
do, and is a better investment than any
one you have ever yet made." l He
1 Letter June 9, 1847 j Diary and Correspondence,
p. 244-8.

114

ABBOTT LAWRENCE.

also wrote to a friend : " This noble plan
is worthy of him ; and I can say truly
to you, that I feel enlarged by his
doing it. Instead of our sons going to
Erance and other foreign lands for in
struction; here will be a place, second
to no other on earth, for such teach
ing as our countiy stands now in abso
lute need of. Here, at this moment, it
is not in the power of the great railroad
companies, to secure a competent engi
neer to carry forward their work,- so
much are the services of such men in
demand." Mr. Lawrence will be remembered
in public life by his mission to Eng
land. It arose out of his participation
in the political movements which re
sulted in the election of General Taylor
to the Presidency. He was looked
upon, in fact as a prominent candidate
in that nomination for the Vice Presi
dency ; but the choice falling on Mr.
Fillmore, Mr. Lawrence, on the organ
ization of the new administration, was
offered a seat in the Cabinet. Ttis he
declined, when he received, in 1849,
the mission to England — a position
well suited to his wealth, the associa
tions of his life and his desire for'hon-
orable public employment. Mr. Ever
ett, preserves a characteristic anecdote
of his state of mind on' receiving this
appointment. The minister elect to the
court of St. James, in his miscellaneous
reading had met with the famous wit
ticism of that well-trained diplomatist,
Sir Henry Wotton, an Englishman of
the politic days of King James I., that an
ambassador was an excellent man sent
to lie abroad for the good of his coun
try. Half in jest we may presume, but

quite in earnest as to the point of mor
ality involved, Mr. Lawrence asked
Everett — ;" Whether there was any real
foundation in truth for this ancient
epigrammatic jest — for if that was the
case, his mind was made up; he had
never yet told a lie, and was not going
to begin at the age of fifty-six." To
which Mr. Everett replied that he
could answer for himself as a foreign
minister; that he had never said a
word or written a line, which, as far as
his own character or that of his govern
ment was concerned, he should have
been unwilling to see in the newspa
pers the next day."
Mr. Lawrence discharged the duties
of his mission faithfully to his: countiy,
and acceptably to Americans abroad
and to his English friends for three
years, when he returned to America in
time to attend the funeral, at Marshfield,
of his illustrious friend, Daniel Web
ster. This event was followed soon
after by the death of his brother, Amos
Lawrence, the last day of December,
1852. He was himself destined not
long to survive. Less than three years
of life remained to him, which, like his
preceding course, were distinguished
by acts of useful charity. He died on
the 18th of August, 1855, at the age
of sixty-three, closing a career of emi
nent worth and usefulness, illustrating
many of the noblest virtues of the mer
cantile character. Exact, conscientious,
enterprising, his generosity and public
spirit kept pace with his wealth; Nor
were the charities of himself and his
brother confined to public acts. They
were governed by religious principle,
and sought as well the secrecy of pri

ABBOTT LAWRENCE.

115

v&te life. In addition to a second sum
of fifty thousand dollars, to the Scienti-
1c School of Harvard, Mr. Abbott Law
rence bequeathed ten thousand dollars
to the Boston Public Library, and five
thousand dollars to the Franklin Libra
ry Association in Lawrence, beside
various large religious grants. Nor
must an enlightened foundation be for
gotten, of a fund of fifty thousand dol
lars, the income of which was to be ap
propriated for the erection of model
lodging-houses for the poor of Boston.
He left also upwards of seventy thou
sand dollars in private bequests outside
of his family.
Of his personal character and domes
tic life, we are told by Mr. Everett
that " though not professedly a man of
letters, Mr. Lawrence had found time,
in the intervals of business, for the ac
quisition of a great amount of miscella
neous knowledge, by a judicious course
of reading. His home was filled with
books, paintings and works of art ; his
conversation was at all times intelli

gent and instructive ; his appreciation
of liberal pursuits, prompt and cordial.
In manner he was eminently courteous
and affable. His kindly disposition
found constant expression in a beaming
smile, in tones and words and acts of
cheerfulness, in unaffected sympathy
with those around him. His purse, his
advice, his encouraging voice were ever
at the command of modest worth. ' His
house was the stranger's home; his
fireside the resort of friendship. Unos
tentatious hospitality was the presiding
genius within his doors. Gloom and
austerity were strangers to his counte
nance. He lived in an atmosphere of
good will; not a languid sentiment,
still less an empty profession ; but sub
stantial, effective good will, manifested
in deeds of beneficence. It might be
said of him, as it was said of his bro
ther Amos, that " every day of his life
was a blessing to 'some one."1

1 Obituary of Abbott Lawrence in the Boston Daily
Advertiser, Aug. 20, 1855.

ANDREW JACKSON.

Fjsw of the eminent men of America,
whose acts are recorded in these pages,
entered upon the public stage so early
and continued on it so late, as the sub
ject of this sketch.- To no one but him
self was it reserved to bridge over so
completely the era of the Revolution
with the latest phase of political life in
our day. The youth who had suffered
wounds and imprisonment at the hands
of a British officer in the war of Inde
pendence, was destined long after, when
a whole generation had left the stage,
to close a second war with that power
ful nation by a triumphant victory;
and when the fresh memory of that
had passed away, and men were read
ing the record in history, the same hero,
raised to the highest honor of the State,
was to stand forth, not simply Presi
dent of the United States, but the ac
tive representative of a new order of
politics, reaping a new harvest of favor
in civil administration, which would
throw his military glory into the shade.
Nor was this alb These comprehen
sive associations, much as they include,
leave^ out of view an entirely distinct
phase of the wonderful career of this
extraordinary man. A rude pioneer
of the wilderness, he opened the path
way of civilization to his countrymen,
and by his valor in a series of bloody

ne

Indian wars, made the terrors of that
formidable race a matter of tradition
in lands which he lived to see bloom
ing with culture and refinement. A
hero in his boyhood, when Greene was
leading his southern army to the relief
of the Carolinas, he was in Congress the
first representative of a new State, when
Washington was President; and when
the successors of that chieftain, Adams
and Jefferson, had at length disappeared
from the earthly scene in extreme old
age, he, a man more of the future than
the past, sat in the same great seat of
authority, with an influence not inferior
to theirs. Surrounded by these circum
stances, in the rapid development of
national life, in the infancy and prog
ress of the country, if he had been a
common man he would have acquired
distinction from his position; but it
was his character to form circumstances
as well as profit by them. There are
few cases in all history where, under
adverse conditions, the man was so
master of fortune. The simplest recital
of his life carries with it an air almost
of romance; his success mocked the
wisdom of his contemporaries, and will
tax the best powers of the future, histo
rians of America in its analysis.
Andrew Jackson was of Lish parent
age. His father, -of the same name, be-

..zkeiuss it -t7m, a. Z7ai>Ksrn\-typti taJcsti. frvm, fin
-.fxir. rrrS- Co. PufcUshes EewYo-A.

ANDREW JACKSON.

117

longed to a Protestant family in humble
lifo which had been ' long settled at
Carrickfergus, in the north of Ireland,
whence he brought his wife and two
children to America, in 1765. They
were landed at Charleston, South Caro-
lina> and proceeded at oncb to the up
per region .of the country, on the Ca
tawba, known as the Waxhaw settle
ment. They came as poor emigrants
to share the labors of their friends and
countrymen who were settled in, the
district. Andrew Jackson, the elder,
began his toilsome work in clearing the
land on. his plot at Twelve Mile Creek,
a branch of the Catawba, in what is
now known as Union County, North
Carolina, but had barely established
himself by two years' labor when he
died, leaving his widow to seek a re
fuge with her brother-in-law in the
neighborhood. A few days after her
husband's death, on the 15th March,
17C7, she brought forth a third son,
Andrew, of whose life we are to give
an account. The father having left
little, if any, means of support for his
family, the mother found a permanent
home with another brother-in-law named
Crawford, who resided on a farm just
over the border in South Carolina.
There the boyhood of Jackson was
passed in the pursuits incident to youth,
in frontier agricultural life. His phy
sical powers were developed by healthy
sports and exercise, and his mind re
ceived some culture in the humble ru
diments of education in the limited
schooling of the region. It is probable
that something better was intended for
him than for most of the boys in his
position, since we hear of his being at
u.— 15

an Academy at Charlotte, and of his
mother's design to prepare him for the
calling of a Presbyterian clergyman.
Such, indeed, might well have been his
prospects, for he had a nature capable
of the service, had not the war of the
Revolution, now breaking out afresh
in the South, carried him in quite a
different direction.
In 1779 came the invasion of South
Carolina, the ruthless expedition of Pre
vost along the seaboard preceding the
arrival of Clinton, and the fall of Charles
ton. The latter event occurred in May
of the following year, and Cornwallis
was free to carry out his plan for the
subjugation of the countiy. Sending
Tarleton before him, the very month
of the surrender of the city, the war of
devastation was carried to the border
of the State, to the very home of Jack
son. The action at the Waxhaws was
one of the bloodiest in a series of bloody
campaigns, which ended only with the
final termination of hostilities. It was
a massacre rather than a battle, as Ame
rican blood was poured forth Hke
water. The mangled bodies of the
wounded Avere brought into the church
of the settlement, where the mother of
the young Jackson, then a boy of thir
teen, with himself and brother — he had
but one now, Hugh having already
joined the patriots and fallen in the
affair at Stono — attended the sick and
dying. That " gory bed " of war, con
secrated by the spot where his father
had worshipped, and near which he re
posed in lasting sleep, summoned the
boy to his baptism of blood. He was
not the one to shrink from, the encoun
ter. We accordingly find him on hand

118

.ANDREW JACKSON.

at Sumter's attack, in the following
August, 011 the enemy's post at Hang
ing Rock, accompanying Major Davies'
North Carolina troop to the fight,
though he does not appear to have en
gaged in the battle. A few days after,
Gates was defeated at Camden, and
Mrs. Jackson and her children fled be
fore the storm of war to a refuge in the
northern part of the district. The es
cape was but temporary, for, on her re
turn in the spring, her boys were
entangled, as they could not well fail
to be in that region, in the desultory,
seldom long intermitted partisan war
fare which afflicted the Carolinas. In
the preparation for one of the frequent
skirmishes between Whig and Tory,
the two brothers were surprised, es
caped in flight, were betrayed and cap
tured. It was on this occasion that the
scene, often narrated, occurred, of the
indignity offered by the British officer,
met by the spirited resistance of the
youth. Andrew was ordered by the
officer, in no gentle tone, to clean his
boots. He refused peremptorily, plead-
ing his rights as a prisoner of war, an
argument which brought- down a re
joinder in a sword-thrust on head and
arm raised for protection, the marks of
which the old hero bore to his last day.
A similar wound, at the same time, for
a like offence, was the cause of his bro
ther's death. Their imprisonment at
Camden was most cruel ; severely
wounded, without medicine or care,
with but little food, exposed to conta
gion, they were brought forth by their
mother, who followed them and man
aged their exchange. Few scenes of
war can be fancied, more truly heroic

and pitiful than the picture presented
by Mr. Parton, in his faithful biogra
phy of this earnest, afflicted, patriotic
mother receiving her boys from the
dungeon, " astonished and horrified " at
their worn, wasted appearance. The
elder was so ill as not to be able to sit
on horseback without help, and there
was no place for them in those troubled
times but their distant home. It was
forty miles away. Two horses, -with
difficulty we may suppose, were pro
cured. " One she rode herself. Robert
was placed on the other, and held in
his seat by the returning prisoners, to
whom his devoted mother had just
given liberty. Behind the sad proces
sion, poor Andrew dragged his weak
and weary limbs, bareheaded, barefoot
ed, without a jacket." Before the long
journey wras thus painfully accom
plished, " a chilly, drenching, merciless
rain " set in, to add to its hardships.
Two days after, Robert died, and An
drew was, happily perhaps, insensible
to the event in the delirium of the
small pox, which he had contracted in
prison. What will not woman under
take of heroic charity? This mother
of Andrew Jackson had no sooner seen
her surviving boy recovered by her
care, than she set off with two other ma
trons, on foot, traversing the long dis
tance to Charleston to carry aid and
consolation to her nephews and friends
immured in the deadly prison-ships in
the harbor. She accomplished her er
rand, but died almost in its execution,
falling ill of the ship fever at the house
of a relative in the vicinity of the city.
Thus sank into her martyr's grave, this
woman, worthy to be +he mother of a

ANDREW JACKSON.

118

hero, leaving her son Andrew, " before
reaching his fifteenth birth-day, an or
phan ; a sick and sorrowful orphan,
a homeless and dependent orphan, an
orphan of 'the Revolution."1
The youth remained with one of the
Crawfords till a quarrel with an Ame
rican commissary in the house— this
lad of spirit would take indignity nei
ther from friend nor foe — drove him to
another relative, whose son being in
the saddler's trade, led him to some
six months' engagement in this mecha
nical pursuit. This was followed by a
somewhat eager enlistment in the wild
youthful sports Or dissipations of the day,
such as cockfighting, racing and gamb
ling, which might have wrecked a less re
solute victim; but his strength to get out
of this dangerous current was happily
superior to the force which impelled
him into it, and he escaped. He even
took to study and became a schoolmas
ter, not over competent in some re
spects, but fully capable of imparting
what he had learnt in the rude old
field schools of the time. We doubt
not he put energy into the vocables,
as the row of urchins stood before him,
and energy, like the orator's action, is
more than books to a schoolmaster.
A year or two spent in this way,
not without some pecuniary profit,
put him on the track of the law, for
which there is always an opening in
the business arising from the unsettled
land titles of a new country, to say no-
1 P.-irton's Life of Jackson, I. 95. We may here make
a general acknowledgment for the aid we have received
In this sketch from Mr. Purton's exhaustive narrative.
He has fur exceeded all previous biographers in the dili
gence of his investigations, and those who write after
him of Jackson must needs follow in his steps.

thing of those personal strifes and tra
ditions which follow man wherever he
goes. The youth — he was yet hardly
eighteen — accordingly offered himself
to the most eminent counsel in the re
gion — that is, within a hundred miles
or so — alighting at the law office of Mr.
Spence McCay, a man of note at Salis
bury, North Carolina. There he passed
1785 and the following year, studying
probably more than he has had credit
for, his reputation as a gay young fel
low of the town being better remem
bered, as is natural, than his ordinary
office routine. He had also the legal
instructions of an old warrior of the
Revolution, brave Colonel Stokes, a
good lawyer and mixture of the soldier
and civilian, who must have been quite
to Andrew Jackson's taste. Thus for
tified, with the moderate amount of
learning due his profession in those
days, he was licensed and began the
¦practice of the law.
His biographer, Mr. Parton, pleased
with having brought him thus far
successfully on the stage of life, stops
to contemplate his subject at full
length. His points may be thus
summed up : " A tall fellow, six feet
and an inch in his stockings ; slender,
but graceful; far from handsome,
with a long, thin, fair face, a high
and narrow forehead, abundant,, red
dish-sandy hair, falling low over it-
hair not yet elevated to the bristling
aspect of later days — eyes of a deep
blue, brilliant when aroused, a bold
rider, a capital shot."
As for the moral qualities which he
adds to these physical traits, the pru
dence associated with courage and

120

ANDREW JACKSON.

" that omnipotent something which we
call a presence," which faithful Kent
saw in his old discrowned monarch
Lear, as an appeal to service and
named " authority," — it is time enough
to make these reflections when the man
shall have proved them by his actions.
He will have opportunity enough.
After getting his " law," the young
advocate took a turn in the miscella
neous pursuits of the West, as a store
keeper at Martinsville, in Guildford
County, keeping up his connection
with his profession, it is reported, by
performing the executive duties of a
constable. He has now reached the
age of twenty-one, when he may be
said fairly to have entered upon his
career, as he received the appointment
of solicitor or public prosecutor in the
western district of North Carolina, the
present Tennessee. This carried him
to Nashville, then a perilous journey
through an unsettled country, filled-
with hostile Indians. He arrived at
this seat of his future home, whence his
country was often to summon him in her
hour of need, in October, 1788, and en
tered at once vigorously on the practice
of his profession, which was very much
an off-hand, extempore affair, requiring
activity and resolution more than learn
ing, especially in the main duties of his
office as collector of debts. A large
extent of country was to be traversed
in his circuits of the wilderness, on
which it was quite as important to be
a good woodman as a well-informed
jurist. Indeed, there was more fear of
the Indian than of the Opposite Coun
sel. Jackson had the confidence of the
mercantile community behind him, and

discharged his duties so efficiently, and
withal was so provident of the future
which his keen eye foresaw, that he
prospered in his fortunes, and in a few
years became a considerable landed
proprietor. In 1791 an event occurred which be
came subsequently a matter of frequent
discussion, and which certainly re
quired some explanation. Andrew
Jackson married at Natchez, on the
Mississippi, Mrs. Robards, at the time
not fully divorced from her husband,
though both Jackson and the lady be
lieved the divorce had been pronounced.
The error, after the sifting which the
affair received when it became a ground
of party attack, and the blazing light
of a Presidential canvass was thrown
upon it, is easily accounted for. The
circumstances of the case may be thus
briefly narrated : A Colonel Donelson,
one of the founders of Nashville,
brought with him to that settlement,
not many years before, his daughter
Rachel, who at the time of Jackson's
arrival was married to a Mr. Robards,
of Kentucky. The young " solicitor "
found the pair living with the lady's
mother, Mrs. Donelson, in whose house
Jackson became an inmate. Robards
appears to have been of a jealous tem
perament, and moreover of unsettled
habits of living. At any rate, he had
his home apart from his wife, and we
presently find him, in the second win
ter after Jackson's arrival, applying as
a Kentuckian, to the Virginia legisla
ture for a divorce. He procured an or
der for the preliminary proceedings,
which were understood, or rather misun
derstood by the people of Tennessee, as

ANDREW JACKSON.

121

an authoritative separation. With this
view of tne matter, as the explanation
is given, the marriage took place. The
divorce was legally completed in 1793.
When Jackson then learnt the true
state of the case he had the marriage
ceremony performed a second time.
During the whole of the affair from
the beginning, though he acted as a
friend of the lady, he appears to have
conducted himself toward her with the
greatest propriety. Indeed, a certain
innate sense of delicacy and pure chi
valrous feeling toward woman, was al
ways a distinctive trait of his character.
It was constantly noticed by those
most intimate with him, as a remarka
ble characteristic, in a man roughly
taking his share in the wild pursuits
and dissipations of the day. He was
no doubt early an admirer of the lady,
whose gay,- spirited qualities and ad
venturous pioneer life were likely to
fascinate such a man, and made no
secret of his contempt for the husband,
threatening on one occasion, when he
was pestered by his jealousies, to cut
out his ears. The story of his marriage
was of course variously interpreted, but
he allowed no doubtful intimations of
the matter in his presence. It was a
duel or war to the knife when any hes
itation on that subject was brought to
his hearing.
The region into which Jackson had
emigrated, having passed through its
territorial period, when the solicitor
became attorney general, reached its
majority in a State name and govern
ment of its own in 1796. He was
one of the delegates to the convention
lit Knoxville, which formed the consti

tution of Tennessee, and one of the two
members of each county, to whom was
intrusted the drafting of that instru
ment. When the State was admitted
into the Union, Andrew Jackson was
chosen its first, and, at that time, only
representative to Congress. He took
his seat at the beginning of the session,
at the close of the year; and was con
sequently present to receive the last
opening message of George Washing
ton, it being usual in those days for
the President to meet both houses to
gether at the commencement of their
sitting, and deliver his speech in per
son — what is now the President's mes
sage. In like manner, according to the
usage of the English Parliament, a re
ply was prepared and voted upon by
each house, which was carried in per
son by the members to the President's
mansion. The reply, in this instance.
proposed in the House of Representa
tives by the Federalist committee, was
thought too full an indorsement of the
policy of the administration, and met
with some opposition from the Repub
lican minority, Andrew Jackson ap
pearing as one of twelve, by the side
of Edward Livingston, and William B
Giles, of Virginia, voting against it. He
did not speak on the question, and his
vote may be regarded simply as an indi
cation of his party sentiments, though,
had he been an ardent admirer of Wash
ington, he might, spite of his Tennessee
politics, have voted with Gallatin for
the original address. That he did not,
does not imply necessarily any disaffec
tion to Washington ; but there was pro
bably little of personal feeling in the
matter to be looked for from him. The

122

ANDREW JACKSON.

independent life of the South and West
had never leaned, as the heart of the
Eastern and Atlantic regions, upon the
right arm of Washington. The only
question upon which he spoke during
the session was in favor of assuming
certain expenses incurred^in an Indian
expedition in his adopted State ; and
the resolution which he advocated was
adopted. His votes are recorded in
favor of appropriations for the navy,
and against the black mail paid to Al
giers. His success in the Indian bill
was well calculated to please his con
stituents, and he was accordingly re
turned the next year to the Senate. It
was the first session of the new admin
istration, and all that is told of his ap
pearance on the floor is the remark of
Jefferson in his old age to Daniel
Webster, that he had often seen him,
from his Vice President's chair, attempt
to speak, and "as often choke with
rage." Mr. Parton adds to this recollec
tion the bare fact that he made the
acquaintance of Duane of the " Au
rora," Aaron Bun* and Edward Liv
ingston. He retired before the end
of the session, and resigned his seat.
Private affairs called him home ; but
he could not have been well adapt
ed to senatorial life, or he did not like
the position, else he would have man
aged to retain it. It was an honor not
to be thrown away lightly by an ambi
tious young man.
We next behold him chosen by the
legislature a judge of the Supreme
Court of Tennessee— a post, one would
think, of severer requisitions than that
of United States senator, since a mem
ber of a legislative body may give a

silent vote or be relieved of an onerous
committee, while the occupant of the
bench is continually called upon to ex
ercise the best faculties of the mind.
It. is to Jackson's credit that he held
the position for six years, during which.
as population flowed into the State and
interests became more involved, the
requisitions of the office must have
been continually becoming more exact
ing. Its duties carried him to the
chief towns of the State, where he was
exposed to the observation of better
read lawyers than himself. As no re
cord was kept of his decisions, we have
to infer the manner in which he ac
quitted himself from what we know of
his qualifications. He no doubt made
himself intelligible enough on simple
questions and decided courageously
and honestly what he understood ; but
in any nice matter he must have been
at fault from want of skill in statement,
if we may judge of his talents in this
respect by his printed correspondence,
which is ill spelt, ungrammatical and
confused. His personal energy, 'however, doubt
less helped him on occasion, as in the
famous anecdote of his arrest of Russell
Bean. This strong villain, infuriated
by his personal wrongs, was at war
with society, and bade defiance to jus
tice. It was necessary that he should
be brought before the court where
Jackson presided, but it was pro
nounced impossible to arrest him. The
sheriff and his posse had alike failed,
when the difficulty was solved by the
most extraordinary edict which ever
issued from the bench. " Summon me,"
said the judge to the law officer. It

ANDREW JACKSON.

123

was done and the arrest was made. It
is curious to read of a judge of the Su
preme Court planning duels and rough
personal encounter with the governor
of the State, as we do of Judge Jack
son in his quarrel with Governor Se
vier. No stronger evidence could be
afforded of the imperfect social condi
tion of the country It was a rude, un
finished time, when life was passed in a
fierce personal contest for supremacy,
and wrongs real and imaginary were
righted at sight by the pistol. This
period of Jackson's career, including
the ten years following the retirement
from the bench, are filled Avith prodi
gious strife and altercation. The duel
ling pistols are always in sight, and
dreary are the details of wretched
personal quarrels preliminary to their
use. The first of these encounters in
which Jackson was a principal occurred
as early as 1795, when he was engaged
in court and challenged the opposite
counsel on the spot for some scathing
remark, writing his message on the
blank leaf of a law book. Shots were
exchanged before the parties slept.
The most prominent of Jackson's alter
cations, however, was his duel with
Dickinson, a meeting noted among nar
ratives of its class for' the equality of
the combat, and the fierce hostility of
the parties. It was fought in 1806, on
the banks of Red River in Kentucky.
Charles Dickinson was a thriving young
lawyer of Nashville, who had used
sonie invidious expressions regarding
Mrs.. Jackson. These were apologized
for and overlooked when a roundabout
quarrel arose out of the terms of a

horse race, which, after involving Jack
son in a caning of one of the parties,
and his friend Coffee in a duel with
another, ended in bringing the former
in direct collision with Dickinson. A
duel was arranged. The principals
were to be twenty-four feet apart, and
take their time to fire after the word
was given. Both were excellent shots,
and Dickinson, in particular, was sure
of his man. So certain was Jackson of
being struck, that he made up his
mind to let his antagonist have the
first fire, a deliberate conclusion of
great courage and resolution, based
on a very nice calculation. He knew
that his antagonist would be quicker
than himself at any rate, and that if
they fired together his own shot would
probably be lost in consequence of the
stroke he must undoubtedly receive
from the coming bullet. He conse
quently received the fire, and was hit as
he expected to be. The ball, aimed at
his heart, broke a rib and grazed the
breast bone. His shoes were filling
with blood as he raised his pistol, took
deliberate aim, re-adjusted the trigger
as it stopped at half- cock, and shot his
adversary through the body. Dickin
son fell, to bleed to death in a long
day of agony. Jackson desired his.
own wound to be concealed, that his
opponent might not have the gratifica
tion of knowing that he had hit him
at all. Such was the courage and such
the revenge of the man.1
After leaving the judgeship, Jackson
— he was now called General Jackson,

1 The details of this affair with all its preliminaries, oc
cupy forty octavo pages of Mr. Parton's narrative— a
curious and most instructive picture of the times.

124

ANDREW JACKSON.

having been chosen by the field officers
major general of the State militia in
1801, gaining the distinction by a sin
gle vote — employed himself on his
plantation, the Hermitage, near Nash
ville, and the storekeeping in which he
had been more or less engaged since
his arrival in the country. In partner
ship with his relative, Coffee, he was a
large exchanger of the goods of the
West for the native produce, which he
shipped to New Orleans ; and it was
for his opportunities of aiding him in
procuring provisions, as well as for his
general influence, that Colonel Burr
cultivated his acquaintance in his west
ern schemes in 1805, and the following
year. General Jackson, at first fasci
nated by the man, who stood well with
the people of the country as a republi
can,, introduced him into society and
entertained him at his house ; but
when suspicion was excited by his
measures, he was guarded in his inter
course, and stood clearly forth on any
issue which might arise, involving the
preservation of the integrity of the
Union. On that point no friendship
could bribe him.: Accordingly he
offered his services to President Jeffer
son, and, receiving orders to hold his
command in readiness, there was great
military bustle of the major general in
Nashville, raising and reviewing com
panies, to interrupt the alarming pro
ceedings of Colonel Burr on the Ohio.
When it was found that there was no
thing formidable to arrest, Jackson's
feeling of regard for Burr revived, he
acquitted him of any treasonable in
tent, and resolutely took his part dur
ing the trial at Richmond.

On the breaking out of the war with
England, in 1812, Geneial Jackson was
one of the first to. tender his services to
the President. He called together
twenty-five hundred volunteers and
placed them at the disposal of the
Government. The proffer was accept
ed, and in December Jackson was set
in motion at the head of two thousand
men to join General Wilkinson, then
in command at New Orleans. The
season was unusually cold and incle
ment ; but the troops, the best men of
the State, came together with alacrity,
and by the middle of February were
at Natchez, on the Mississippi. Jack
son's friend and relative, Colonel Cof
fee, led a mounted regiment overland.
while the rest descended the river.
Colonel Thomas H Benton also ap
pears on the scene as General Jackson's
aid. At Natchez, the party: was ar
rested by an order from Wilkinson, and
remained in inaction for a month, when
a missive came from the War Depart
ment disbanding the force. Thus was
nipped in the bud the ardent longing
of the general, and the promise of one
of the finest bodies of men ever raised
in the countiy. Jackson, taking the
responsibility, resolved that they should
not be dismissed till, as in duty bound,
he had returned them home. He ac
cordingly led them back by land, and
so solicitous was he for their welfare
by the way, so jealous of their rights,
carelessly invaded by the government,
that his popularity with the men was
unbounded. The fiery duellist, " sud
den and quick in quarrel," gained by
his patient kindness and endurance on
that march, the endearing appellation,

ANDREW JACKSON.

125

destined to be of world-wide fame —
Old Hickory.
He had taken, as we have said, the
responsibility in bringing home the
troops. This involved an assumption
of their debts by the way, for it was
not certain, though to be presumed,
that the government would honor his
drafts for the expenses of transporta
tion. It did not. The paper was pro
tested and returned upon his hands.
In this strait, Colonel Benton, going to
Washington, undertook the manage
ment of the affair, and by a politic ap
peal to the fears of the administration,
lest it should, lose the vote of the State,
secured the payment. As he was about
returning to Nashville, warmed by this
act of friendship, he received word
from his brother that General Jackson
had acted as second in a duel to that
brother's adversary — a most ungracious
act, as it appeared, at a moment when
the claims of gratitude should have
been uppermost. The explanation was
that Carroll, who received the challenge,
was unfairly assailed, and' appealed, as a
friend, to the generosity of Jackson to
protect him. - Taking a duel very much
as an everyday affair, the latter proba
bly thought little of the absent Benton.
The meeting came off, and Jesse Ben
ton was wounded. An_ angry letter
was written to Jackson by his brother,
who came on to Nashville, venting his
wrath in the most denunciatory terms
— for Benton's vocabulary of abuse,
though not more condensed, was more
richly furnished with .expletives than
that of his general. This coming to
the hearing of Jackson, he swore his
big oath, "by the Eternal, that he
n.— 16

would horsewhip Tom Benton the first
time he met him." The Bentons knew
the man, did not despise the threat, but
waited armed for the onset. It came
off one day at the door of the City Ho
tel in Nashville. There were several
persons actors and victims in the affair.
These are the items of the miserable
business. The two Bentons are in the
doorway as Jackson and his friend Co
lonel Coffee- approach. Jackson, with
a word of warning to Benton, brandish
es his riding- whip ; the Colonel fum
bles for a pistol ; the General presents
his own, and at the instant receives in
his arm and shoulder a slug and bullet
from the barrel of Jesse Benton, who
stands behind. Jackson is thus dropped,
weltering in his blood with a desperate
wound. Coffee thereupon thinking
Tom Benton's pistol had done the
work, takes aim at him, misses fire, and
is making for his victim with the butt
end, when an opportune cellar stair
way opens to the retreating Colonel,
who is precipitated to the bottom.
Meanwhile Stokely Hays arrives, intent
on plunging the sword, which he drew
from his cane, into the body of Jesse
Benton. He deals the thrust with unc
tion, but striking a button, its force
is lost and the weapon shivered. A
struggle on the floor then ensues be
tween the parties, the fatal dagger of
Hays being raised to transfix his wound
ed victim, when it is intercepted by
a bystander, and the murderous and
bloody work is over. Such was the
famous Benton feud. It laid Jackson
ingloriously up for several weeks, and
drove Colonel , Benton to Missouri.
There was a long interval of mutual

126

ANDREW JACKSON.

hostue feeling, to be succeeded by a
devoted friendship of no ordinary in
tensity. This Benton affray took place on
the 4th of September, 1813. A few
days before, on the 30th of August, oc
curred the massacre by the Creek In
dians of the garrison and inhabitants
at Fort Mimms, a frontier^ post in the
southern part of Alabama. A large
number of neighboring settlers, anxious
for their safety, had taken refuge with
in the stockade. The assailants took
it by surprise, and though the defend
ers fought with courage, but few of its
inhabitants escaped the terrible car
nage. The Indians were led by a re
doubtable chieftain, named Weathers-
ford, the son of a white man and a Se
minole mother, a leader of sagacity,
of great bravery and heroism, and
of no ordinary magnanimity. He was
unable, however, to arrest, as he would,
the fiendish atrocities committed at
the fort. Women and children were
sacrificed in the horrible rage for slaugh
ter, and the bloody deed was aggrava
ted by the most indecent mutilations.
A cry was spread through the South
west similar to that raised in our own
day in India, at the Sepoy brutalities.
Vengeance was demanded alike for
safety and retribution. On the 18th
of September the news had reached
Nashville, four hundred miles distant,
and General Jackson was called into
consultation as he sat, utterly disabled
with his Benton wounds, in his sick
room. It was resolved that a large
body of volunteers should be sum
moned, and, ill as he was, he promised
to take command of them when they |

were collected. Still suffering severely
before they were ready to move he
joined them at Fayette ville, the place
of meeting. He arrived in camp the
seventh of October, and began his
work of organizing the companies.
Everything was to be done in drill and
preparation for the advance into a wil
derness where no supplies were to be
had ; yet in four days, a report having
reached him that the enemy were ap
proaching, he led his troops, about a
thousand men, an afternoon march of
thirty-two miles in six hours to Hunts-
ville. The Indians, however, were not
yet at hand, and joining Colonel Coffee,
whom he had sent forward with a cav
alry command, on the banks of the
Tennessee, he was reluctantly com
pelled to wait there too long a time for
his impatience, till something could be
done in providing stores, in which the
army was lamentably deficient. A
post was established on the river
named Fort Deposit, whence Jackson,
still inadequately provided, set out, on
the twenty-fifth of the month, on his
southward march, and carried his force
to an encampment at Ten Islands,
on the Coosa Biver. There Coffee
was detached to attack a body of In
dians at their towm of Talluschatches.
He performed the service with equal
skill and gallantly; and though the
Creeks, as they did throughout the
war, fought with extraordinary valor,
urged on by religious fanaticism, he
gained a brilliant victory. One of the
incidents of the bloody field was the
accidental slaughter of an Indian mo
ther clasping her infant to her breast.
The child was carried to Jackson, who

ANDREW JACKSON.

127

had it tenderly cared for, and finally
taken to his home. The boy, named
Lincoyer, was brought up at the Her
mitage, and suitably provided for by
the general.
The next adventure of the campaign
was an expedition led by Jackson him
self to relieve a camp of friendly In
dians at Talladega, invested by a large
band of hostile Creeks. The very
night on which he received the message
asking aid, brought by a runner who
had escaped from the beleaguered fort
in disguise, he started with a force of
two thousand men, eight hundred of
whom were mounted, and in a long
day's march through the wilderness
traversed the intervening distance,
some thirty miles, to the neighborhood
of the fort. The dawn of the next
morning saw him approaching the ene
my — a -thousand picked warriors. Dis
posing the infantry in three lines, he
placed the cavalry on the extreme
wings, to advance in a curve and in
close the foe in a circle. A guard was
sent forward to challenge an engage
ment. The Indians received its fire
and followed in pursuit, when the front
line was ordered up to the combat.
There was some misunderstanding, and
a portion of the militia composing it
retreated, when the general promptly
supplied their place by dismounting a
corps of cavalry kept as a reserve.
The militia then rallied, the fire became
general, and the enemy were repulsed
in every direction. They were pursued
by the cavalry and slaughtered in great
numbers, two hundred and ninety
being left dead on the field and many
more bore the marks of the engagement, i

The American loss was fifteen killed
and eighty-five wounded. The friendly
Creeks came forth from the fort to
thank their deliverers, and share with
them their small supply of food.
This was emphatically, contrary to all
the rules of war, a hungry campaign.
On his return to his camp, to which,
having been fortified, the name Fort
Strother was given, Jackson found the
supplies Avhich he had urgently demand
ed, and which he so much needed, not
yet arrived. His private stores, which
had been bought and forwarded at his
expense, were exhausted to relieve the
wants of his men. He himself, with
his officers, subsisted on unseasoned
tripe, like the poor and proud Spanish
grandee in the Adventure of Lazarillo
de Tonnes, eulogizing the horse's foot,
maintaining that he liked nothing bet
ter. The story is told of a starving
soldier approaching him at this time
with a request for food. " I will give
you," said the general, " what I have,"
and with that he drew from his pocket
a few acorns, " my best and only fare." '
Food, food, was the constant cry of
Jackson in his messages to the rulers
in the adjoining States. It was long
in coming, and in the meanwhile the
commander, eager to follow. up his suc
cesses and close the war, was' con
demned to remain in inactivity — the
hardest trial for a man of his temper.
Scant subsistence and the hardships
common to all encampments brought
discontent. The men longed* to be at
home, and symptoms of revolt began
to appear. The militia actually com-
1 Eaton's Life of Jackson, p. 6G.

128

ANDREW JACKSON

menced their march backward ; but
they had reckoned without their leader.
On starting they found the volunteers
drawn up to oppose their progress, and
abandoned their design. Such was the
force of Jackson's authority in the
camp, that when these volunteers, who
were in reality disappointed that the
movement did not succeed, attempted
in their turn to escape, they were in
like manner met by the militia. The
occasion required all Jackson's ingenu
ity and resolution, and both were freely
expended. His iron will had to yield
something in the way of compromise.
Appealing to his men, he secured a
band of the most impressible to remain
at Fort Strother, while he led the rest
in quest of provisions toward Fort De
posit. The understanding was that
they were to return with him when
food was obtained. They had not
gone far when they met a drove of cat
tle on their way to the camp. A feast
was enjoyed on the spot ; but the men
were still intent on going homeward.
Nearly the whole brigade was ready
for motion, when Jackson, who had
ordered their return, was informed of
their intention. His resolution was
taken on the instant. He summoned
his staff, and gave the command to fire
on the mutineers if they attempted to
proceed. One company, already on
the way, was thus turned back, when,
going forth alone among the men, he
found the movement likely to become
general.- There was no choice in his
mind but resistance at the peril of his
life, for the men once gone, the whole^
campaign was at an end. Seizing a
musket, he rested the barrel on the

neck of his horse — he was unable, from
his wound, to use his left arm — and
threatened to shoot the first who should
attempt to advance. An intimation of
this kind from Jackson was never to be
despised. The men knew it, and re
turned to their post. They yielded to
the energy of a superior mind, but
they were not content. Their next
resource was, an assertion of the termi
nation of their year's enlistment, which
they said would expire on the tenth of
December ; but here they were met by
the astute lawyer, who reminded them
that they were pledged to serve one
year out of two, and that the year
must be an actual service in the field
of three hundred and sixty-five days.
The argument, however, failed to con
vince, and as the day approached the
men were more resolute for their de
parture. They addressed a courteous
letter to their commander, to which he
replied in an earnest expostulatory ad
dress. " I know not," he said, " what
scenes will be exhibited on the tenth
instant, nor what consequences are
to flow from them here or elsewhere ;
but as I shall have the consciousness
that they are not imputable to any mis
conduct of mine, I trust I shall have
the firmness not to shrink from a dis
charge of my duty." The appeal was
not heeded, and on the evening of the
ninth the signs of mutiny were not to
be mistaken. The general took his
measures accordingly. He ordered all
officers and soldiers to their duty, and
stationed the artillery company with
their two pieces in front and rear, while
he posted the militia on an eminence
in advance. He himself rode along

ANDREW JACKSON.

129

the line and addressed the men, in
their companies, with great earnestness.
Ee talked of the disgrace their conduct
would bring upon themselves, their
families and country ; that they would
succeed only by passing over his dead
body : while he held out to. them the
prospect of reinforcements. "I am
too," he said, " in daily expectation of
receiving information whether you may
be discharged or not ; until then, you
must not and shall not retire. I have
done with entreaty ; it has been used
long enough. I will attempt it no
more. You must now determine whe
ther you will go, or peaceably remain :
if you still persist in your determina
tion to move forcibly off, the point be
tween us shall soon be decided." There
was hesitation. He demanded a posi
tive answer. Again a slight delay.
The .artillerist was ordered to prepare
the match. The word of surrender
passed along the line, and a second
time the rebellious volunteers suc
cumbed to the will of their master.
These, . it should be stated, were the
very men, the original company, whom
Jackson had earned to Natchez, and
for whose welfare on their return he
had pledged his property. But in vain
he reminded them of the fact, and ap
pealed to their sense of generosity to
remain in the service. He gave them
finally the choice to proceed to Tennes
see or remain with him. They chose
the former, and he let them go.
The men he had left with him were
enlisted for short periods^ or so under
stood it. There was little to build
upon for the campaign, and he was
even advised by the Governor of Ten

nessee, to abandon the prosecution of
the war, at least for the present, or till
the administration at Washington
should provide better means for- carry
ing it on. This was not advice, des
perate as appeared the situation, to be
accepted by Jackson. His reply was
eminently characteristic — charged with
a determined self-reliance which he
sought to infuse into his correspondent.
" Take the responsibility " is written
all over it. "If you would preserve
your reputation," he writes, " or that of
the State over which you preside, you
must take a straightforward, deter
mined course ; regardless of the ap
plause or censure of the populace, and
of the forebodings of that dastardly
and designing crew, who, at a time like
this, may be expected to clamor con
tinually in your ears. The very
wretches who now beset you with evil
counsel, will be the first, should the
measures which they recommend event
uate in disaster, to call down impreca
tions on your head, and load you with
reproaches. Your countiy is in clan
ger: apply its resources to its defence !
Can any course be more plain ? Do
you, my friend, at such a moment as
the present, sit with your arms folded
and your heart at ease, waiting a. solu
tion of your doubts and a definition
of your powers ? Do you wait for spe
cial instruction from the Secretary of
War, which it is impossible for you to
receive in time for the danger that
threatens?" The governor had said
that his power ceased with the call for
troops. "Widely different," replies
Jackson, " is my opinion. You are to
see that they come when xney are

130

ANDREW JACKSON

called. Of what avail is it," he urges
with an earnestness savoring of sarcasm,
' to give an order if it be never executed,
and may be disobeyed with impunity ?
Is it by empty mandates that we can
hope to conquer our enemies and save our
defenceless frontiers from butchery and
devastation ? Believe me, my valued
friend, there are times when it is highly
criminal to shrink from responsibility
or scruple about the exercise of our
powers. There are times when we
must disregard punctilious etiquette
and think only of serving our country."
He also presented, in like forcible
terms, the injurious effects of abandon
ing the frontiers to the mercy of the
savage. The governor took the advice
to heart, pointedly as it was given ; he
ordered a fresh force of twenty-five
hundred militia into the field, and
seconded General Jackson's call upon
General Cocke for the troops of East
Tennessee. Meantime, however, Jack
son's force at Fort Strother was re
duced to a minimum ; the militia, en
listed for short terms, would go, and
there was great difficulty in getting
new recruits on to supply their places.
The brave Coffee failed to re enlist his
old regiment of cavalry There was a
strange want of alacrity through the
early period of this war, in raising and
disciplining the militia. With a pro
per force at his command, duly equipped
and supplied, Jackson would have
brought the savages to terms in a
month. As it was, nearly a year
elapsed ; but the fighting period, when
he was once ready to move, was of
3hort duration.
While he was waiting for the new

Tennessee enlistments, he determined
to have one brush with the enemy with
such troops as he had. He according
ly set in motion his little force of eight
hundred raw recruits on the fifteenth
of January, on an excursion into the
Indian territory At Talladega he was
joined by between two and three hun
dred friendly Cherokees and Creeks,
with whom he advanced against the
foe, who were assembled on the banks
of the Tallapoosa, near Emuckfau. He
reached their neighborhood on the
night of the twenty-first, and prepared
his camp for an attack before morning.
The Indians came, as was expected,
about dawn ; were repulsed, and when
daylight afforded the opportunity,
were pursued with slaughter. There
was another sharp conflict about the
middle of the day, which ended in a
victory for the Americans, at some cost
to the conquerors, who, ill prepared to
keep the field, moved back toward the
fort. Enotochopco Creek was reached
and crossed by a part of the force,
when the Indians fell upon the rear
guard, who turned and fled ; the artil
lery, however, still left on that side of
the river, gave the savages a warm re
ception, when they were pursued by
the cavalry, which had recrossed the
stream. By this rime the countiy was roused
to some adequate support of its gene
ral in the field. At the end of Febru
ary, Jackson was reinforced by the ar
rival at Fort Strother of a force from
East and West Tennessee of about five
thousand men. By the middle of the
next month he Avas in motion, terribly
in earnest for a short and summary ex..

ANDREW JACKSON.

131

tirpation of the savages. The execu
tion of John Woods, a Tennessee
youth Avho had shown some insubordi
nation in camp, was a prelude to the
approaching tempest. The commander
thought it necessary to the unity and
integrity of the service. Fortunately
for the purposes of this neAV invasion,
the chief warriors of the nation assem
bled themselves at a place convenient
enough for defence, but where defeat
was ruin. It was at Tohopeka, an In
dian name for the horse-shoe bend of
the Tallapoosa, an area of a hundred
acres inclosed by the deep waters of
the river and protected at its junction
with the land by a heavy breastwork
if logs pierced for musketry and skill
fully arranged for defence. Within
this inclosure, at the time of Jackson's
arrival, on the twenty-seventh of March,
with less than three thousand men, in
cluding a regiment of regulars under
Colonel Williams, were assembled some
eight or nine hundred Avarriors of the
Creeks. The plan of attack was thus
arranged. Sending General Coffee to
the opposite side of the river to effect
a diversion in that quarter, Jackson
himself directed the assault on the
works at the neck. He had two field
pieces, which were advantageously
planted on a neighboring eminence.
His main reliance, however, was at
close quarters Avith his musketry. On
the river side General Coffee succeeded
in inclosing the bend and cutting off
escape by the canoes, which he cap
tured by the aid of. his friendly In
dians, and used as a means of landing
in the rear of the enemy's position.
This success was the signal for the as

sault in front. Regulars and volun
teers, eager for the contest, adAranced
boldly up. Reaching the rampart, the
struggle was for the port-holes, through
Avhich to fire, musket meeting musket
in the close encounter. " Many of the
enemy's balls," says Eaton, "were
welded between the muskets and bay
onets of our soldiers. Major Montgo
mery, of Williams's regiment, led the
Avay on the rampart, and fell dead sum
moning his men to follow. Others
succeeded and the fort Avas taken. In
vain was the fight kept up Avithin, from
the shelter of the fallen trees, and
equally hopeless was the attempt at
escape by the river. No quarter was
asked, and none given, for none would
be received. Women and children
were the only prisoners. It was a des
perate slaughter. Nearly the Avhole
band of Indians perished, selling their
lives as dearly as possible. The Ame
rican loss was fifty-five killed and about
thrice the number wounded ; but tho
Cherokee dead Avere to be counted by
hundreds. Having struck this fearful
blow, Jackson retired to Fort Williams,
which he had built on his march, and
issued, as was his wont — he was quite
equal to Napoleon in this respect — an
inspiriting address to his troops. If
the words are not always his, the sen
timent, as his biographer suggests, is
ever Jacksonian. Somebody or other
was always found to give expression to
his ardent ejaculations, which need
only the broad theatre of a European
battlefield to vie with the thrilling
manifestoes of Bonaparte. " The fiends
of the, Tallapoosa Avill no longer mur
der our women and children, or disturb

132

ANDREW JACKSON.

the quiet of our borders. Their mid
night flambeaux will no more illumine
their council-house, or shine upon the
victim of their infernal orgies." The
gratifying event was nearer even than
the general anticipated. He looked
for a further struggle, but the spirit of
the nation was broken. Advancing
southward, he joined the troops from
the south at the junction of the Coosa
and Tallapoosa, the "Holy Ground"
of the Indians, where he received their
offers of submission. The brave chief
tain, Weathersford, voluntarily surren
dered hiinself. A portion of the In
dians fled to Florida. Those who
were left were ordered to the northern
parts of Alabama, Fort Jackson being
established at the confluence of the
rivers to cut off their communication
with foreign enemies on the seaboard.
The war had originally grown out of
the first English successes and the
movements of Tecumseh on the north
ern frontier, and was assisted by Span
ish sympathy on the Gulf.
Jackson was now at liberty to return
to Nashville with the troops who had
shared his victories. He had of course
a triumphant reception in Tennessee,
and his services were rewarded at
Washington by the appointment of
major general in the army of the Unit
ed States, the resignation of General
Harrison at the moment placing this
high honor at the disposal of the gov
ernment. It was an honor well de
served, earned by long and patient ser
vice under no ordinary difficulties —
difficulties inherent to the position,
aggravated by the delays of others,
and some, formidable enough to most

men, which he carried with him
bound up in his own frame. We so
naturally associate health and bodily
vigor Avith brilliant military achieve
ments that it requires an effort of the
mind to figure Jackson as he really
was in these campaigns. We have
seen him carrying his arm in a sling,
unable to handle a musket when he
confronted his retiring army ; but that
was a slight inconvenience of his
Avound compared with the gnawing
disease Avhich was preying upon his
system. " Chronic diarrhoea," says his
biographer, " was the form which his
complaint assumed. The slightest im
prudence in eating or drinking brought
on an attack, during which he suffered
intensely. While the paroxysm lasted
he could obtain relief only by sitting
on a chair with his chest against the
back of it and his arms dangling for
ward. In this position he was some
times compelled to remain for hours.
It often happened that he was seized
with the familiar pain while on the
march through the woods at the head
of the troops. In the absence of other
means of relief he would have a sap
ling half severed and bent over, upon
which he would hang with his arms
downward, till the agony subsided."
In July, General Jackson was again
at the South on the Alabama, presid
ing at the treaty conference with the
Indians. The terms he proposed were
thought hard, but he was inexorable
in requiring them. The treaty of Fort
Jackson, signed on the tenth of Au
gust, stripped the Creeks of more than
1 Farton's Jackson, I. '647-8.

ANDREW JACKSON.

133

half of their possessions, confining
them to a region least inconvenient to
the peaceful enjoyment of the neigh
boring States. "As a national mark
of gratitude," the friendly Creeks be
stowed upon General Jackson and his
associate in the treaty, Colonel Haw
kins, three miles square of land to*
each, with a request that the United
States; Government would ratify the
gift : but this, though recommended to
Congress by President Madison, was
never carried into effect.
While the treaty was still under ne
gotiation, Jackson was intent on the
next movement of the war, which he
foresaw would carry him to the shores
of the Gulf, He knew the sympathy
of the Spaniards in Florida with the
English, and was prepared for the de
signs of the latter against the southern
country. Having obtained informa
tion that British muskets Avere distri
buted among the Indians, and that
English troops had been landed in Flo
rida, he applied to the Secretary of
War, General Armstrong, for permis
sion to call out the militia and reduce
Pensacola at once. The matter was
left to the discretion of the commander,
but the letter conferring the authority
did not reach him for six months. In
the mean time he felt compelled to take
the management of the war into his
own hands. Fully aware of the im
pending struggle, he was in correspond
ence with Governor Claiborne of Lou
isiana, putting him on his guard, and
with Maurequez, the Spanish governor
of Pensacola, calling him to a strict
account for his tampering Avith the
enemy. To be nearer the scene of op-
n— 17

erations, he removed, immediately after
the conclusion of the treaty, to Mobile,
where he could gain the earliest intelli
gence of the movements of the British.
Learning there, in September, of a
threatened visit of the fleet under the
orders of Colonel Nichols to Mobile,
he called loudly upon the governors of
the adjoining States for aid, and gave
the Avord to his adjutant, Colonel But
ler, in Tennessee, to enlist and bring
on his forces. They responded eagerly
to the call, for the name of Jackson
was now identified with glory and vic
tory, which they were ambitious to
share. His old friend, General Coffee,
was their leader. Before they arrived,
the fort at the mouth of the bay was
put in a state of defence under the
command of Major Lawrence, of the
United States infantiy. In the after
noon of the fifteenth of September it
was his fortune to maintain the post
against a bombardment by the British
fleet of Captain Percy which recalls
both the attack and success of the de
fenders at Fort Sullivan, in the war of
the Revolution. What Moultrie and
his brave men did on that day in re
pelling the assault of Sir Peter Parker
and his ships was now done by Law
rence at Fort Bowyer. " Don't give up
the fort " was his motto, as " Don't
give up the ship " had been uttered by
his namesake on "the dying deck" of
the Chesapeake, the year before. The
fort was not given up. Percy's flag
ship, the Hermes, Avas destroyed, and
the remainder of his command returned,
seriously injured, to Pensacola.
General Jackson rejoiced in this vic
tory at Mobile, and waited only the

134

ANDREW JACKSON.

arrival of his forces to carry the war
home to the British in Florida. At
the end of October, General Coffee ar
rived Avith twenty-eight hundred men
on the Mobile River, Avhere Jackson
joined him, and mustering his forces to
the number of three thousand, marched
on the third of November against
Pensacola. Owing to the difficulty of
obtaining forage on the way, the caval
ry was dismounted. The troops had
rations for eight days. On his arri
val before the town, being desirous
as far as possible of presenting his
movements in a peaceful light, Gene
ral Jackson sent a messenger forAvard
to demand possession of the forts to be
held by the United States " until Spain,
by furnishing a sufficient force, might
be able to protect the province and
preserve unimpaired her neutral char
acter." On approaching the fort the
bearer of the flag Avas fired on and
compelled to retire. Aware of the de
licacy of his self-imposed undertaking,
before proceeding to extremities he
sent a second message to the governor,
by a Spanish corporal who had been
captured on his route. This time,
word was brought back that the gov
ernor Avas ready to listen to his propo
sals. He accordingly sent Major Piere
a second time with his demands. A
council was held, and they were re
fused. Nothing Avas then left but to
proceed. The town was gained by a
simple stratagem. Arranging a por
tion of his troops as if to advance
directly on his road, he dreAV the British
shipping to a position on that side,
when, by a rapid march, he suddenly
presented his main force on the other.

He consequently entered the town be
fore the movement could be met. A
street fight ensued, and a barrier was
taken, when the governor appeared
with a flag of truce. General Jackson.
met him and demanded the surrender
of the military defences, which was
conceded. Some delay, however, oc
curred, which ended in the delivery of
the fortifications, of the town, and the
blowing up of the fort at the mouth
of the harbor. Having accomplished
this feat, the British fleet sailed away
before morning. Whither were they
bound ? To Fort Bowyer and Mobile
in all probability, and thither Jack
son, leaving the Spanish 'governor on
friendly terms behind him, hastened
his steps. Tarrying a few days for
the British, who did not come, he took
his departure for New Orleans, with
his staff, and in a journey of nine days
reached the city on the first of Decem
ber. If ever the force of a single will,
the safety Avhich may be provided for.
an imperilled people by the confidence
of one strong right arm, were fully il
lustrated, it would seem to be in the
military drama Avhich was enacted in
this and the following month on the
banks of the Mississippi. Andrew
Jackson was the chief actor. Louisia
na had brave men in her midst, numer
ous in proportion to her mixed popula
tion and still unsettled condition, but
Avhom had she, at once with experience
and authority, to summon on the in
stant out of the discordant materials a
band strong enough for her preserva
tion ? At the time of General Jack
son's arrival a large fleet of the enemy

ANDREW JACKSON.

13c

was hovering on the coast amply pro
vided with every resource of naval and
military art, bearing a host of the ve
teran troops of England, experienced
m the bloody contests under Welling
ton — an expedition compared with
which the best means of defence at
hand for the inhabitants of New Or
leans resembled the resistance of the
reeds on the river bank to Behemoth.
It was the genius of Andrew Jackson
which made those reeds a rampart of
iron. He infused his indomitable cour
age and resolution in the whole mass of
citizens. A few troops of hunters, a
handful of militia, a band of smugglers,
a company of negroes, a group of peace
ful citizens stiffened under his inspira
tion into an army. Without Jackson,
iiTesolution, divided counsels, and sur
render, might, with little reproach to
the inhabitants, under the circumstan
ces, have been the histoiy of one fatal
fortnight. With Jackson all Avas union,
confidence and victory.
The instant of his arrival he set
about the work of organization, review
ing the military companies of the city,
selecting his staff, personally examining
the approaches from the sea and arrang
ing means of defence. He was deter
mined that the first step of the enemy
on landing should be resisted. This
was the inspiration of the military
movements Avhich folloAved, and the
secret of his success. He did not get
behind intrenchments and wait for the
foe to come up, but determined to go
forth and meet him on the way. He
Avas not there so much to defend New
Orleans as to attack an army of inso
lent intruders and drive them into the

sea. They might be thousands, and
his force might be only hundreds, but
he knew of but one resolve, to fight to
the uttermost, and he pursued the reso
lution as if he were revenging a per
sonal insult.
Events came rapidly on as was anti
cipated, an attack Avas made from
the fleet upon the gunboats on Lake
Borgne. They were gallantry defend
ed, but compelled to surrender. This
action took place on the fourteenth of
December. Now Avas the time, if ever,
to met the invading host. The spirit
of Jackson rose, if possible, yet higher
with the occasion. Well knowing that
not a man in the city could be spared,
and the inefficiency, in such emergencies,
of the civil authority, he resolve to
take the Avhole power in his own hands.
On the sixteenth, he proclaimed mar
tial law. Its effect was to concentrate
every energy of the people with a sin
gle aim to their deliverance. Two days
after, a review was held of the State
militia, the Arolunteer companies, and
.the battalion of free men of color, when
a stirring address was read, penned by
the general's secretary, Edward Liv
ingston — a little smoother than Old
Hickory's bulletins in the Alabama
wilderness, but not at all uncertain.
The Tennessee, Mississippi and Ken
tucky recruits had not yet arrived,
but they were on their way, straining
every nerve in forced marches to meet
the coming danger. Had the British
moved with the same energy, the city
might, have fallen to them. It was not
till the twenty-first, a week after their
victory on the lake, that they began
their advance, and pushed a portion of

136

ANDREW JACKSON.

their force through the swamps, reach
ing a plantation on the river bank, six
miles below the city, on the forenoon
of the twenty-third. It was past mid
day when word was brought to Jack
son of their arrival, and within three
hours a force of some two thousand
men was on the way to meet them.
No attack was expected by the enemy
that night ; their comrades were below
in numbers, and they anticipated an
easy advance to the city the next morn
ing. They little knew the commander
with whom they had to deal. That
very night they must be assailed in
their position. Intrusting an impor
tant portion of his command to General
Coffee, who was on hand with his brave
Tennesseans, charged with surrounding
the enemy on the land side, Jackson
himself took position in front on
the road, while the Carolina, a war
schooner, dropped down on the river
opposite the British station. Her can
nonade, at half-past seven, throwing a
deadly shower of grape-shot into the
¦encampment, was the signal for the
commencement of this night struggle.
It was a fearful contest in the darkness,
frequently of hand to hand individual
prowess, particularly where Coffee's
riflemen were employed. The forces
actually engaged are estimated on the
part of the British, including a reinforce
ment which they received, at more than
twenty-three hundred ; about fifteen
hundred Americans took part in the
fight. The result, after an engagement
of nearly two hours, was a loss to the
latter of twenty-four killed, and one
hundred and eighty-nine wounded and
missing. The British loss was much

larger, sustaining as they did the addi
tional fire of the schooner.
Before daylight, Jackson took up hig
position at a canal two miles distant
from the camp of the enemy, and con
sequently within four of the city. The
canal Avas deepened into a trench, and
the earth throAvn back formed an em
bankment, Avhich was assisted by the
famous cotton bales, a device that
proved of much less value than has
been generally supposed. A fortnight
was yet to elapse before the final and
conclusive engagement. Its main inci
dents were the arrival of General Sir
EdAvard Pakenham, the commander-in
chief, with General Gibbs, in the
British camp, on the twenty-fifth, bring
ing reinforcements from Europe; the
occupation by the Americans of a posi
tion on the opposite side of the river
protecting their camp ; the destruction
of the Carolina by red hot shot on the
twenty-seventh; an advance of the
British, with fearful preparation of
artillery, to storm the works the fol
lowing day, which was defeated by the
Louisiana sloop advantageously posted
in the river, and the fire from the
American batteries, which were every
day gaining strength of men and muni
tions ; the renewal of the attack with
like ill success on the first of January;
the simultaneous accession to the Ame
rican force of over two thousand Ken
tucky riflemen, mostly without rifles;
a corresponding addition to tho enemy
on the sixth, and a general accumula
tion of resources on both sides, in pre.
paration for the final encounter. On
the eighth of January, a last attempt
was made on the American front, which

ANDREW JACKSON.

137

extended about a mile in a straight line
from the river along the canal into the
wood. The plan of attack, which was
well conceived, was to take possession
of the American work upon the oppo
site bank of the river, turn its guns
upon Camp Jackson, and under cover
of this diversion scale the embankment,
and gain possession of the battery.
The first was defeated by the want of
means, and loss of time in getting the
necessary troops across the river; the
main attack, owing to some neglect,
was inadequately supplied with scaling
ladders, and the troops were marched
up to slaughter from the murderous fire
of the artillerymen and riflemen from
behind the embankment. Throughout
the whole series of engagements, the
American -batteries, mounting twelve
guns of various calibre, were most skil
fully served. The loss on that day of
death was to the defenders but eight
-killed and thirteen wounded ; that of
the assailants in killed, wounded and
missing exceeded, in their official re
turns, two thousand.1 A monument in
Westminster Abbey attests the regret
of the British public for the death of
the commander-in-chief, a hero of the
Peninsular war, the lamented Paken-
ham. Ten days after, having endured vari
ous hardships in the meantime, the
British army, under the direction of
General Lambert, took its departure.
On the twenty-first, Jackson broke up
his camp with an address to his troops,
and returned to New Orleans in tri
umph. On the twenty-third, at his
1 Dawson's Battles of the United States, II. 419.

request, a Te Deum was celebrated at
the cathedral, when he was received at
the door, in a pleasant ceremonialj by a
group of young ladies, representing
the States of the Union.
The conduct of Jackson throughout
the month of peril, whilst the enemy
was on the land, was such as to secure
him the highest fame of. a commander.
He had not been called upon to make
any extensive manoeuvres in the field,
but he had taken his dispositions on
new ground with a rapid and profound
calculation of the resources at hand.
His employment of Lafitte and his men
of Barrataria,- the smugglers whom he
had denounced from Mobile as "hellish
banditti," is proof of the sagacity Avith
Avhich he accommodated himself to cir
cumstances, and his superiority to pre
judice. They had a character to gain
and turned their Avild experience of
gunnery to most profitable account at
his battery. His personal exertions
and influence may be said to have won
the field ; and it should be remembered
in what broken health he passed his
sleepless nights, and days of constant
anxiety. The departure of the British did not
relax the vigilance of the energetic
Jackson. Like the English Strafford,
his motto was " thorough," as the good
people of New Orleans learnt before
this affair was at an end. He did not
abate, in the least, his strict military
rule, till the last possible occasion for
its exercise had gone by. It was con
tinued when the enemy had left, and
through days and weeks when as
surance of the peaco news Avas estab
lished to every mind but his own. He

138

ANDREW JACKSON.

chose to have certainty, and the " rigor
of the game." In the midst of the
ovations and thanksgivings, in the first
moments of exultation, he "signed the
death warrant of six mutineers, de
serters, who as long before as Septem
ber, had construed a service of the old
legal term of three months as a release
from their six months' engagement;
and the severe order was executed at
Mobile. In a like spirit of military
exactitude, New Orleans being still
held under martial law, to the chafing
of the citizens, he silenced a newspaper
editor who had published a premature,
incorrect bulletin of peace; banished
the French citizens who were disposed
to take refuge from his jurisdiction in
their nationality; arrested an impor
tant personage, M. Louaillier, a mem
ber of the Legislature, Avho argued the
question in print; and when Judge
Hall, of the United States Court,
granted a writ of habeas corpus, to
bring the affair to a judicial investiga
tion, he was promptly seized and im
prisoned along with the petitioner.
The last affair occurred on the fifth of
March. A week later, the official news
of the peace treaty was received from
Washington, and the iron grasp of the
general at length relaxed its hold of
the city. The civil authority succeeded
to the military, when wounded justice
asserted its power, in turn, by summon
ing the victorious general to her bar,
to answer for his recent contempt of
court. . He was unwilling to be entan
gled in legal pleadings, and cheerfully
paid the imposed fine of one thousand
dollars. He Avas as ready in submit
ting to the civil authority now that the

war was over, as he had been decidec
in exacting its obedience when the
safety of the State seemed to him the
chief consideration. Thirty years after,
the amount of the fine, principal and
interest was repaid him by Congress.
The reception of the victorious de
fender of New Orleans, on his return to
Nashville, and subsequent visit, in au
tumn, to the seat of gOATernment, Avas
a continual ovation. On his route, at
Lynchburgh, in Virginia, he was met
by the venerable Thomas Jefferson,
Avho toasted him at a banquet of citi
zens. The administration, organizing
anew the military defence of the coun
tiy, created him major-general of the.
southern division of the army, the
whole force being arranged in two de
partments, of which the northern was
assigned to General Brown.
It was not long before the name of
Jackson was again to fill the public
ear, and impart its terrors alike to the
enemy and to his own government.
The speck of war arose in Florida,
which, what with runaway negroes,
hostile Indians, filibustering adventu
rers, and the imbecility of the Spanish
rule, became a constant source of irrita
tion to the adjoining American States.
There were various Avarlike prelimina
ries, and at last, toAvards the end of '
1817, a murderous attack by the Semi-
noles upon a United States boat's crew
ascending the Appalachicola. General
Jackson was called into the field,
charged with the suppression of the
war. Eager for the service, he sprang
to the work, and conducted it in his
own fashion, " taking the responsibil
ity" throughout, summoning volunteers

ANDREW JACKSON.

139

to accompany him from Tennessee with
out the formality of the civil authority,
advancing rapidly into Florida after
his arrival at the frontier, capturing the
Spanish fort of St. Marks, and push
ing thence to the Suwanee. General
M'Intosh, the half-breed who accompa
nied his march, performed feats of
valor in the destruction of the Semi-
noles. At the former of these places,
a trader from New Providence, a Scotch
man named Arbuthnot, a superior mem
ber of his class, and a pacific man, fell
into his hands ; and in the latter, a va
grant English military adventurer, one
Ambrister. Both of these men were
held under arrest, charged with com
plicity with the Indian aggressions,
and though entirely irresponsible to
the American commander of this mili
tary raid, "were summarily tried under
his order by a court-martial on Spanish
territory, at St. Marks, found guilty,
and executed by his order on the spot.
He even refused to receive the recon
sideration of the court of its sentence
of Ambrister, substituting stripes and
imprisonment for death. Ambrister
was shot, and Arbuthnot hung from
the yard-arm of his own vessel in the
harbor. During the remainder of Jack
son's life, these names rang through
the country with a fearful emphasis in
the strife of parties. Of the many
difficulties in the way of his eulogists,
this is, perhaps, the most considerable.
His own explanation, that he Avas per
forming a simple act of justice, would
seem, with his previous execution of
the six mutineers, to rest upon a par
tial study of the testimony ; but this
responsibility should of course be di

vided with the members of his court.
martial. The chief remaining events
of the campaign Avere an angry corres
pondence with the governor of Georgia,
in respect to an encroachment on his
authority in ordering an attack on an
Indian village, and the capture of Pen
sacola, in Avhich he left a garrison.
Reckoning day Avith the government
Avas next in order. The debate in Con
gress on the Florida transactions was
long and animated, Henry Clay bear
ing a conspicuous part in the opposi
tion. The resolutions of censure were
lost by a large majority in the House.
The failure to convict Avas a virtual vote
of thanks.. Fortified by the result, the
general, who had been in Washington
during the debate, made a triumphal
visit to Philadelphia and Nevr York.
At the latter place he was presented
with the freedom of the city in a gold
box, which, a topic for one of the poets
of the "croakers" at the time, has bo-
come a matter of interest since, in the
discussion growing out of a provision
of the general's will. He left the gift
to the bravest of the New York officers
in the next Avar. It Avas finally be-
stoAved, in 1850, upon General Ward
B. Burnett, the colonel of a NeAv York
regiment distinguished in the Mexican
war. The original presentation took
place at the City Hall, in February,
1819. The protracted negotiations with
Spain for the purchase of Florida being
noAV brought to an end by the acquisition
of the country, General Jackson was
appointed by President Monroe the1
first governor of the Territory. He
Avas present at the formal cession at

140

ANDREW JACKSON.

Pensacola, on the 17th of July, 1821,
and entered upon his new duties with
his usual vigor — a vigor in one instance,
at least, humorously disproportioned to
the scene, in a notable dispute with the
Spanish governor, in the course of
which there was a fresh imbroglio with
a United States judge, and the foreign
functionary Avas ludicrously locked up
in the calaboose — all about the deliv
ery of certain unimportant papers.
On a question of authority, it was
Jackson's habit to go straight forward
without looking to see what important
modifying circumstances there might
be to the right ,or left. It was a mili
tary trait which served him very well
on important occasions in Avar, and sub
sequently in one great struggle, that
of the Bank, in peace; but in smaller
mixed matters, it might easily lead him
astray. For this Don Callava's com
edy, Ave must refer the reader to Mr.
Parton's full and entertaining narra
tive — not the most imposing, but cer
tainly not the least instructive portion
of his book. The Florida governor
ship was not suited to the demands of
Jackson's nature; his powers were too
limited and restricted ; the irritation of
the Spanish quarrel was not calculated
to lighten his disease, and Mrs. Jackson
Avas at his side to plead the superior
claims of home. Thither, after a few
months' absence, he returned, doubtless
greatly to the relief of the Secretary of
State, Mr. Adams, who said at the time
to a friend, " he dreaded the arrival of
a mail from Florida, not knowing what
General Jackson might do next." 1 The

1 Parton's Jackssn, II. 689.

remainder of General Jackson's life may
be regarded as chiefly political; it is
rather as a man of action in politics,
than as a theoretical statesman, in any
sense, that he is to be considered. He
had certain views in public affairs apart
from the army, which were more mat
ters of instinct than of reflection or
argument. The two great trophies of
his administrations, his course towards
South Carolina in the preservation of
the Union, and his victory over the
interests of the United States Bank,
were of this character. They were
both questions likely to present them
selves strongly to his mind. He had
an old republican antagonism to paper
money, and the corruptions of a large
moneyed corporation allied to the
government, and having once formed
this idea, his military energy came in
to carry it out through every available
means at his disposal.
His availability for the Presidency
Avas based upon his popularity Avith
the people wherever they had fairly
come in contact with him. The people,
above all other qualities, esteem those
of a strong, earnest, truthful, straight
forward character. They admire force
and unity of purpose, and require hon
esty. Jackson had these requisites in
perfection. There Avas no mistaking
his single aim. It had been displayed
on a field Avhere nothing is hidden from
the popular eye, Avhere it is even dis
posed to exaggeration of what it fairly
takes in. In producing a candidate for
popular favor in an ordinary election, a
great deal is to be done, in common
cases, in bringing the public to an un-
derstanding of his claims. Hig reputa-

ANDREW JACKSON.

141

tion has, in a measure, to be manufac
tured. Voters have to be schooled to
his appreciation. But Jackson's fame
was already made — made by himself.
Various things of great importance to
the nation were, at different times, to
be done, and Jackson had accomplished
them. He had freed the land from the
savage, and swept the invader from the
soil. He had been charged with some
errors, but, granting the Avorst, they
had no taint of -selfishness or fraud.
If he was over rigorous in punishing
deserters, and punctilious in his mili
tary authority, it was a public necessity
which nerved his resolution. A feAV
might be sufferers by his ill-directed
zeal, but the masses saw only the splen
dor of a righteous indignation. It was
for them the work was done, and the
penalty incurred. His worst private
vice was that of a duellist, which is
always more apt to be associated with
principles of honor, than its frequent
incentive, unworthy self-assertion.
It is not at all surprising that such a
man should be summoned to the Pre
sidency. He was nominated by the
legislature of his own State in 1823,
which sent him again to the Senate,
and he was highest on the list of the
candidates voted for the following:
year — he had ninety-nine out of two
hundred and sixty-one votes — when
the election was carried into the House
of Representatives, and Adams was
chosen by the influence of Henry Clay
At the next election, he was borne tri
umphantly into the office, receiving
more than double the number of votes
of his antagonist, Mr. Adams. The
vote was one hundred and "seventy-
ii.— 18

eight to eighty-three. At the election
of 1832, the third time Jackson's popu
larity was tested in this way, the vote
stood for Clay forty-nine, for Jackson
two hundred and thirty-nine.
The record of these eight years of
his Presidential service, from 1829 to
1837, is the modern history of the
democratic party, of the exertions of
its most distinguished representatives,
of the establishment of its most che
rished principles — its anti-bank creed
in the overthrow of the national bank,
and origination of the subtreasury
system, which went into operation with
his successor — the reduction of the
tariff — the opposition to internal im
provements — the payment of the na
tional debt. In addition to the settle
ment of these long agitated questions,
his administration was signalized by
the removal of the Cherokees from
Georgia, and the Creeks from Florida ;
while its foreign policy was candid and
vigorous, bringing to a satisfactory
adjustment the outstanding claims on
France and other nations, and main
taining friendly relations with England.
In all these measures, his energetic hand
was felt, but particularly was his pecu-
liar character manifested in his veto of
1832, and general conduct of the bank
question, the collection of the French
indemnity, and his enforcement of the
national authority in South Carolina.
The censure of the Senate on the
28th March, 1834, for his removal of the
deposits of the public money from the
bank as " an assumption of authority
and power not conferred by the Consti
tution and laws, but in derogation of
both " — a censure supported by the ex-

142

ANDREW JACKSON.

traordinary coalition -of Calhoun, Clay
and Webster, measures the extent of
the opposition his course encountered
in Congress ; . while the Expunging Re
solution of 1837, blotting out that con
demnation, indicates the reception and
progress of his opinions Avith the seve
ral States in the brief interim. The
personal attack made upon him in
1835, by a poor lunatic at the door of
the Capitol, " a diseased mind acted
upon by a general outcry against a
public man," * may show the sentiment
with Avhich a large portion of the press
and a considerable popular party habit
ually treated him.
The love of AndreAV Jackson for
the Union deserves at this time more
than a passing mention. It was em
phatically the creed of his head and
heart. He had no toleration for those
who sought to weaken this great in
stinct of nationality. No sophism
could divert his understanding from
the plainest obligations of duty to his
whole country. He saAV as clearly as
the subtlest logician in the Senate
the inevitable tendencies of any argu
ment Avhich would impair the alle
giance of the people of the States
to the central authority. He could
not make such a speech as Web
ster delivered on the subject, but he
knew as well as Webster the abyss
into Avhich nullification Avould plunge
its advocates. His vigorous policy
saved his oAvn generation the trials to
which ours has been subjected. Had
his spirit still ruled at the proper mo
ment in the national administration,
1 Benton's Thirty Years' View, I. 623.

Ave too might have been spared the un
told evils of a gigantic rebellion. It is
remarkable that it was predicted by
him — not in its extent, for his patriot
ism and the ardor of his temperament
would not have allowed him to imagine
a defection so wide-spread, or so la
mentable a lack of energy in giving
encouragement to its groAvth — but in
its motive and pretences. When nulli
fication wras laid at rest, his keen in
sight saw that the rebellious spirit
Avhich gave the doctrine birth was not
extinguished. He pronounced the tar
iff only the pretext of factious and
malignant disturbers of the public
peace, " who would involve their coun
try in a civil war and all the evils in
its train, that they might reign and
ride on its whirlwinds, and direct the
storm." Disunion and a southern con
federacy, and not the tariff, he said,
were the real objects of the conspira
tors, adding, with singular sagacity,
" the next pretext will be the negro or
the slavery question." 1
Eight years of honorable repose re
mained to the victor in so many battles,
military and political, after his retire
ment from the Presidency. They were
passed in his - seat near Nashville, the
home of his liappy married life, but no
longer cheered by the warm-hearted,
sincere, devout sharer of his many
trials. That excellent Avife had been
taken from him on the eve of his first
occupation of the Presidential chair,
and her memory only Avas left, Avith its
inviting lessons of piety, to temper the
passions of the true-hearted old man as

1 Letter to the Rot. Andrew J, Crawford. Washing
ton, May 1, 1833.

ANDREW JACKSON

143

he resigned himself to religion and the
cares of another and better world. He
had early adopted, as his own son, a
nephew of his wife, and the child grew
up always fondly cherished by him,
bore his name and inherited his estate.
" The Hermitage," the seat of a liberal
hospitality, never lacked intimates dear
to him. He had the good heart of Dr.
Johnson in taking to his home and at
taching to himself friends Avho greAV
strong again in hi3 manly confidence.
Thus, in the enjoyment of a tranquil
old age, looking back upon a career
which belonged to history, he met the
increasing infirmities of ill health with
pious equanimity, a member of the
Presbyterian church, where his wife
had so fondly worshipped — life sloAvly
ebbing from him in the progress of his
dropsical complaint — till one summer
day, the eighth of June, 1845, the child
of the Revolution, an old man of sev
enty-eight, - closed his eyes in lasting
repose at his beloved Hermitage.
The genius and peculiarities of An
drew Jackson afford a tempting subject
for the pen of the essayist. His reso
lute will, strong, fierce and irresistible,
resting upon a broad honesty of nature,

was paramount. It was directed more
by feeling and impulse than by educa
tion and reflection ; consequently there
was a spice of egotism even in its pur
est resolves, and it sometimes took
harsh ways to good ends. SomehoAV
or other, it generally had the sanction
of success. The integrity of his pub
lic life, the great national measures
vrith which his name is identified, will
throw into obscurity, on the page of
history, his personal weaknesses — the
violence of his temper, his oaths, his
quarrels and occasional seeming want
of magnanimity. Strange that so fin
ished and courteous a gentleman should
at times have been so rude !
An apology has been found in the
struggles of his early life, the rough
frontier society into which he was in
troduced, and the lifelong irritations of
disease. That in despite of these tan
gible defects, he should, through so
great a variety of circumstances, civil
and military, have controlled so many
strong and subtle elements, and have
found so many learned and able men
to do his work and assist him in his
upward path, is the highest proof of
his genius.

HENRY CLAY.

A cukioits resemblance has been
traced, by an ingenious writer, between
many points in the personal career of
Henry Clay and Andrew Jackson —
leaving out, of course, the military life
of the hero of New Orleans, and the
remarkable success which seemed to
be bound by some Jacksonian law to
everything which he undertook. The
main points of the comparison are
their youthful fortunes, the absence of
any very definite education, the choice
of the bar for a profession, the early
appearance of each in a new western
region, their" rapid advancement with
its growth in political life, their popu-7
larity and rule in two adjacent States.
" Both early impressed themselves upon
the community around them, and were
distinguished for the same personal
characteristics. Both rose at once to
posts of honor and distinction ; and at
an early age enrolled their names, and
to the last preserved them, among the
first and highest of the republic. Both
were men of quick perception, of
prompt action, of acute penetration, of
business capacity, of masculine common
sense, of quick and unerring judgment
of men, of singular fertility of resour
ces, of remarkable power to create or
avail themselves of circumstances, of
consummate tact and management

144

Both were distinguished for grace and
ease of manners, for happy and pol
ished address, and for influence over
the wills and affections of those who
came within the circle of their ac
quaintance and associations. Both
were of lithe, sinewy and slender phy
sical conformation, uniting strength
with activity and great powers of en
durance with a happy facility of labor.
Both were men of the warmest affec
tions, of the gentlest and most concili
ating manners in social intercourse
when they wished to please, of truth
and loyalty and steadfastness in friend
ship, bitter and defiant in their enmi
ties, of extraordinary directness in
their purposes, of patient and indefati
gable temper in following out their
ends or waiting for their accomplish
ment. Neither could brook a rival or
opposition, and each had the imperial
spirit of a conqueror not to be subdued,
and the pride of leadership which
could not follow. They were Ameri
cans both, intensely patriotic and na
tional, loving their whole country, :'ts
honor, its glory, its institutions, its
union, with a love kindled early and
quenched only in death."1 These
are the coincidences. Our narrative
1 Party Leaders, by J. G Baldwin, p. 282-S.

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HENRY CLAY.

145

will show the points of divergence,
which were many.
Henry Clay, the seventh of a family
of eight children, was born April 12,
1777, in Hanover County, Virginia, in
a rural district abounding in swamps
and hence known as " The Slashes," a
term which gave the man a popular de
signation in the Presidential campaign
ing days. His father, of English de
scent, a Baptist clergyman, the Rev.
John Clay, a native of Virginia, died
when his son was in his childhood, in
his fifth year, just as the Revolutionary
war was brought to its close in Vir
ginia, leaving the boy to the care of his
mother. The orator of after days once
recalled in a speech an incident of his
childhood, how his mother's house was
visited by the troops of Tarleton, and
of their "running their swords into.
the new-made grave of his father' and
grandfather, thinking they contained
hidden treasures." The mother was
poorly provided with the means for
the education of her numerous young
family, and the only early instruc
tion her son Henry received was
in the; rude log cabin school-house
where but the simplest rudiments were
taught. His teacher, Peter Deacon, an
Englishman, like many others an invo
luntary emigrant, in consequence of his
-fault or misfortune — " under a cloud,"
as it is said — conducted the child " as
far as Practice," in the old time-honored
elements. The " Mill-boy of the Slashes," the
electioneering sentimehtal^watchword
to which we have just alluded, dates
from this period. " It had its founda
tion," says his biographer, Mr. Colton,

" in the filial and fraternal duty of Henry
Clay, who, after he was big enough,
was seen whenever the meal barrel was
Ioav, going to and fro on the road be
tween his mother's house and Mrs. Dar-
ricott's mill on the Pamunkey River,
mounted on a bag that was thrown
across a pony that was guided by a
rope-bridle; and thus he became fami
liarly known by the people living
on the line of his travel as the " Mill-
boy of the Slashes."
So the boy grew up in rude
country life till, at the age of four
teen, his mother contracting a second
marriage Avith a gentleman of charac-
ter, Mr. Henry Watkins, and removing
with her husband to Kentucky, he was
left behind in a situation in a retail
store at Richmond. He was not long
in the employment, for we find him the
next year, through the agency of his
stepfather, who appears to have appre
ciated the lad, engaged in the office of '
Mr. Peter Tinsley, clerk of the High
Court of Chancery. His time was so
well spent here, gaining the reputation
of an intelligent, studious youth, intent
upon his book, while others were at
their games or dissipations, that he
was so fortunate as to secure the atten
tion of no less a personage than the
venerable Chancellor Wythe, who, it
will be remembered, also exercised an
important influence over the early years
of Jefferson. The chancellor, whose
trembling hand needed assistance,
struck by the ability of the youth,
employed him as his amanuensis, a
position which brought him directly
into contact with the superior resour
ces of one of the most cultivated and

j.46

HENRY CLAY.

refined minds in Virginia. The chan
cellor was a good linguist, eminently
skilled in composition, and of a friendly
turn to impart his knowledge to his
assistant; so that the copyist became
in a measure his privileged pupil. The
legal reports and comments which he
took down from the chancellor's dicta
tion must also have imparted some
familiarity with the law. From Mr.
Tinsley's office young Clay went to re
side with Mr. Robert Brooke, at that
time attorney general of the State,
with Avhom he advanced sufficiently
far in the study of the law to secure a
license in the Court of Appeals to
practise the profession. With this
certificate, the only property which he
possessed, he set out, at the close of
1797, to seek his fortune in Kentucky.
Alighting at Lexington, then a small
village, but the most important place
in the region, he opened an office and
began his career as an advocate. His
quickness of parts and ready adaptabil
ity gave him immediate success. Nature
had bestowed upon him a fine voice, and
those mental and physical harmonies
indispensable to the orator. His gen
ius led him to cultivate a habit of
speaking, which with experience and
development ripened into the highest
eloquence. His method early in life
was daily to read in some historical or
scientific book, and deliver the inform
ation Avhich he thus acquired in a set
speech, alone by himself1 in the woods
or fields, or some lonely bam "with the
horse and ox for his only auditors "
He was candid enough to declare this
in after life to a class of law students,
a positive assertion of Avhat may al

ways be suspected, that eminent sue
cess, even with men of genius, is nevei
without some such patient skill and
labor in the acquisition of its powers.
Even the rich nature of Hemy Clay
which lived and breathed in eloquence,
required some training of its wonder
ful faculties. The anecdote is told of
his carrying his private practice into a
debating society, and commencing:
" Gentlemen of the Jury," with some
embarrassment, when he at Once, on
striking into the subject, carried his
hearers along on a tide of eloquence
and argument.
A speaker of these persuasive pow
ers, skilful, ready, fluent, infusing en
thusiasm into his argument, became
naturally engaged in criminal prac
tice, in the defence of life, where a jury
might be moved by his impressive elo
quence. He was eminently successful in
such cases, always, it is said, even in
the most desperate, saving the life of
his client. His ability in civil cases
Avas equally marked, for he had always
a rare executive talent in whatsoever
he undertook.
It was inevitable that talents such
as he possessed, in a new country
where personal influence is every
thing, should- draw him into the
sphere of public life. We accordingly
find him, the very year of his removal
to Kentucky, engaged in the discussion
of the provisions for the State con
stitution . then being adjusted. He
strongly advocated a clause for the
gradual emancipation of slaves, fear
less of the unpopularity to which he
subjected himself. The following year
his eloquent voice was heard at a pub

A

HENRY CLAY.

147

lie gathering in denunciation of the
Alien and Sedition Laws of 1798.
The audience was addressed by Mr.
George Nicholas, a leading member of
the bar, who was followed by Mr.
Clay. The topic, involving a strong
popular appeal to liberty, was well
suited to his ability ; and so powerful
ly did he hold the attention of the as
sembly, that he carried it for a time
beyond the point of applause — to
breathless silence. Both speakers were
drawn by the people through the town
in triumph.
Four years after this, Mr. Clay Avas
chosen a member of the Kentucky le
gislature from the county of Fayette,
and distinguished himself in the pro
ceedings of that body, his practice of
the law meanwhile growing in import
ance. It. was a maxim with him never
to refuse his professional assistance to
any client who might stand in need of
a disinterested and fearless advocate, a
resolution which was tested in a memo
rable instance, in his appearing in an
assault and battery case, in behalf of a
tavern-keeper of Frankfort, against Col.
Daviess, the United States district at
torney. Mr. Clay pushed his adversa
ry with his accustomed boldness, and
was challenged, by the colonel. Ready
as Jackson himself to meet an antago
nist in this way, he waived any court
privileges which he might have plead
ed, and accepted it: The affair, how
ever, was happily terminated by the
Interposition of friends. There was a
like generosity, in a case of greater
interest, in his defence of Aaron Burr,
for AA'hich he would accept no fee,
thinking it an occasion for generos

ity toward an eminent man in misfor
tune. He first, however, received a
pledge -in writing from Burr that he
had no treasonable intent in his pro
ceedings, and, finding afterward that he
had been deceived, received Bun* so
coldly when he next met him, some
time after in NeAV York, that the ac
quaintance could not be reneAved.
In 1806, Mr. Clay was chosen by the
legislature of Kentucky to fill a vacan
cy in the United States Senate, taking
his seat, unchallenged, before his thir
tieth year, the period required by the
Constitution. He engaged at once ac
tively in the business of the session,
advocating thus early in his Congres
sional course, a system of internal im
provements — which became afterwards
so important a test of his political
career. The term which he had been
elected to supply having nearly ex
pired on his entrance, he was but a sin
gle session in the Senate, after which
he was again returned to the Kentucky
legislature, Avhere he had the opportu
nity, pleading for the common laAV Avith
rare eloquence and feeling, to defeat
an illiberal motion to exclude English
law precedents from the courts of the
State. When the first measures of
Jefferson's administration on the em
bargo were taken, on occasion of the
promulgation of the British Orders
in Council, he introduced resolutions
strongly approving of the foreign poli
cy of the government. They were car
ried by a vote of sixty-four to one,
Mr. Humphrey Marshall constituting
the minority Shortly after, this gen
tleman expressing contempt for a pro-
position made by Mr Clay for mem

148

HENRY CLA"S.

bers to assist the measures of the
time by dressing themselves in gar
ments of native manufacture, a quar
rel between them ensued, which re
sulted in a hostile meeting. Shots
were twice exchanged, Mr. Marshall in
the first instance and Mr. Clay in the
second being slightly wounded.
At the close of 1809, Mr. Clay again
took his seat in the Senate, a second
time chosen to fill a vacancy. The first
speech which he delivered was after-
Avards referred to for its advocacy of
an American policy. It was on an in
cidental amendment to an appropria
tion for munitions of war, giving pre
ference to certain articles of native
growth and manufacture. He also sup
ported Mr. Madison in his assertion of
the claims of the country to western
Florida as an integral portion of the
Louisiana cession, taking occasion to
denounce the threatened wrath of Eng
land. " Is the rod of British power,"
he asked, " to be forever suspended over
our heads ? Whether we assert our
rights by sea or attempt their mainte
nance by land — whithersoever we turn
ourselves, this phantom incessantly pur
sues us." His report in favor of the
preemption rights of settlers on the
public lands may also be mentioned as
an indication of his future policy. At
the next session, the subject of the re
newal of the charter of the United
States Bank being before Congress,
he spoke in opposition to the measure,
on the ground of the old Republican
party, Avith which he was thus far iden
tified. The term for which he was elected
to the Senate having expired, and

his services being needed in the more
popular branch of the legislature
at the appearance of the cloud of
war already on the horizon, he Avas,
in 1811, elected a member of the
House of Representatives. To meet
the exigency of the times, Congress
was summoned a month in advance,
in November. On the first ballot on
taking his seat, Henry Clay was chosen
speaker, a distinguished honor for a
new member, and a rare proof of the
sagacity of the members. At the next
Congress the honor was repeated, and
on three other occasions in the House
of Representatives. His apt, ready,
graceful talents, his prompt courtesy,
and readiness in all parliamentary du
ties, made him, of all men,- the most
suitable for the office. His views in
reference to the vindication of the coun
try by a spirited foreign policy were well
understood, and he earned them out in
his appointment of the Committee on
Foreign Relations, of which Porter of
New York was placed at the head, and
John C. Calhoun, who presently suc
ceeded him on his retirement, second.
Mr. Clay spoke earnestly in favor of
the increase of the army and navy, and
advocated the new embargo as "a
direct precursor of war." He was one
of the young and fiery spirits of the
country in the House — a leader with
Calhoun — in vindicating and stimulat
ing the declaration of war, and its ear -
nest prosecution. War was declared
in June, and, shortly after, Congress
adjourned. At its next session Mr.
Clay, on the eighth of January, 1813,
delivered a speech in defence of the
new army bill, which has been .consi

HENRY CLAY.

149

dered one of his most eloquent efforts.
Unhappily it is imperfectly reported,
but enough remains to mark his mas
tery of the occasion.
Having thus so greatly distinguished
himself in the prosecution of the war,
when a prospect of peace was Opened,
through the friendly assistance of the
Russian government, he was chosen en
voy extraordinary, in conjunction Avith
Mr. Jonathan Russell, to join his con
federates, Messrs. Gallatin, Bayard and
Adams, who were already in Europe,
in the negotiations. He accepted this
duty, took leave of the House as
speaker in an appropriate address, in
January, 1814, sailed from New York
immediately after, and was with his
colleagues at Ghent at the opening of
negotiations. The general concurrence of the en
voys in the proceedings which took
place, leaves little for special mention
of Mr. Clay's part, beyond his resolute
refusal to renew the concession of the
treaty of 1783 of the mutual right of
navigation of the Mississippi. He
thought the purchase of Louisiana had
since greatly altered the question, and
that the river had become as peculiar a
part of the United States as the Hud
son or the Potomac. On the other
hand, the old treaty had given to the
Americans certain fishing privileges on
the coast of British America, which
hung upon the same tenure as the
claim to the navigation of the Mississ
ippi, namely, the treaty of Paris. The
conflict of these pretensions divided
the commissioners, when Mr. Clay par
tially gave his consent to set off one
against- the other.
n.— 19

The British, however, were not will
ing to adopt the alternative, and both
were dropped. In personal intercourse
with the British commissioners, Mr.
Goulburn and Lord Gambier, Mr. Clay
seems to have borne a chief part. It
fell to him to explain the awkward cir
cumstance of the publication in Ameri
ca of an early part of the negotiations
which was returned to England, while
the treaty was yet pending, A story
is told, also, of his receiving one morn
ing at Brussels, by his servant, a pack
age of newspapers, a usual courtesy,
from the British negotiators, but this
time rendered more interesting by the
papers containing an account of the
burning of Washington. He not long
after took occasion to send a file of
newspapers in return, having some in
telligence on the subject of the Indians
which was required in the negotiation
— the same papers repaying the Wash
ington item with a narrative of McDo-
nough's affair at Lake Champlain. The
anecdote is of no great importance, but
it exhibits the sensitiveness of the
American negotiators. Clay said after
wards, when he heard at Paris of the
battle of New Orleans, the treaty hav
ing been some time before concluded,
" Now, I can go to England without
mortification." At this visit to Paris, the period of
Bonaparte's exile at Elba, Mr. Clay was
received with great favor in society.
Among other distinguished persons
whom he met was Madame de Stael,
at a ball given by M. Hottinger, the
banker, on occasion of the peace be
tween the United States and Great Bri
tain, Avhen the following dialogue oc-

160

HENRY CLAY.

curred : " Ah !" said she, " Mr. Clay,
I have been in England, and have been
battling your cause for you there." " I
knoAV it madame; we heard of your
poAverful interposition, and we are very
grateful and thankful for it." "They
were very much enraged against you,"
said she ; " so much so that they at
one time thought seriously of sending
the Duke of Wellington to command
their armies against you !" " I am
very sorry, madame," replied Mr. Clay,
" that they did not send his Grace."
"Why?" asked she, surprised. "Be
cause, madame, if he had beaten us
we should only have been in the con
dition of Europe without disgrace.
But if we had been so fortunate as
to defeat him, we should greatly have
added to the renown of our arms."
She afterwards introduced Mr. Clay
to the duke at her oavu house, and
related the conversation. The duke
replied, that " if he had been sent on
the service, and he had been so for
tunate as to gain a victory, he would
haye regarded it as the proudest fea
ther in his cap." 1 On passing over
to England, after the ratification of
the treaty, Mr. Clay was equally Avell
received by Lord Castlereagh. Eng
land Avas then in good humor Avith
the victory of Waterloo, which had
just been fought. Before it was as
certained what had become of Bona
parte, Mr. Clay Avas one day at dinner
wi,th the nobleman just mentioned,
and the possible flight of the emperor
to America was touched upon. " If
he goes there will he not give you a
' Sargent's Life of Clay, p. 19.

-great deal of trouble ?" said Lord Liv
erpool to the American envoy. " Not
in the least, my lord," was the reply :
" we shall be very glad to receive
him; we would treat him with all
hospitality, and very soon make a
good democrat of him."
Mr. Clay arrived again at New
York, in September, was welcomed in
the city at a public entertainment,
and pursued to his home in Kentucky
by the hospitality and enthusiasm of
the people. The members of his dis
trict had already elected him to Con
gress, but some doubts arising as to
the legality of the proceeding, he was
again unanimously chosen. On his
appearance, in December, at the open
ing of the House, he was a third
time, by a large majority, seated in
the speaker's chair. It is pleasing to
note the constancy and unanimity with
which this honor was conferred on this
accomplished man through a series of
years, at the meetings of successive
Congresses. His new duties proved
not less important than those which he
had left behind him in bringing the
Avar to a conclusion by a treaty of jjeace.
That war had been accomplished;
there noAV remained the revival of the
country after the Avearisome conflict,
the readjustment of its finances, the
establishment of its industry. These
became especially the arts of our states
man, loud as his voice had been for
Avar, and Avell adapted as his genius
was for its active pursuit. It is said
that, at one time, at the beginning of
the struggle, President Madison thought
of calling him into thfe field as com
mander in chief of the American forces-

HENRY CLAY.

151

He doubtless would have made a
brave and resolute officer, and his cour
age and rare executive talent might
have anticipated the honors and reaped
the rewards destined for his Tennes
see rival. But it was not in Avar
that his laurels were to be gained.
They were to be earned in quite a dif
ferent field. While Jackson passes
down to posterity as the defender of
New Orleans, Henry Clay will be re
membered as the friend to labor and
industry, the father of the American
System. In the Congress of 1816, Mr. Clay
began that policy of internal improve
ments, protection to manufactures, and
bank advocacy which became the dis
tinguishing tests of the great party of
Avhich he was to be so long the leader
— a party enjoying many triumphs and
some sore defeats, which was to live
mainly through him, yet by which he
was to be denied in its period of au
thority, when the Presidency was in its
power, his well-earned reAvard. It
must be admitted, however, that the
struggle Avas long, and that no party
devotion could be stronger than that
manifested by the Whigs to their be
loved leader. The change of his views
on the subject of a United States
Bank, of which, having formerly, as
we have seen, been the opponent — we
have seen it stated that his speech of
1811 was the stronghold of Jackson's
memorable opinions on that subject —
he now became the zealous advocate, is
to be accounted for on the principle of
that old philosophical adage, "The
times' are changed, and we are changed
with them." A national bank seemed,

in 1816, the only solution of the fihan
cial difficulties of the times, the Ioav
state of the public credit and the gene
ral disorganization of the currency. It
was accepted as such by President Ma
dison, Avho recommended the measure,
and by Mr. Calhoun, who devoted him
self zealously to the subject, and intro
duced the bill to the House. Mr. Clay
supported it.
At the next election Mr. Clay, for
the first and only time in his long
career as a representative of the people
of his State in Congress, Avas subjected
to the test of canvassing for his seat.
A bill had been introduced in the
House for which Mr. Clay voted, pro
viding an annual salary of fifteen hun
dred dollars for members in place of
the old six dollars a day, and giving to
the speaker a salary of three thousand
dollars. This provoked opposition in
Kentucky, and Mr. Clay was obliged
to take the stump. Mr. Pope Avas his
competitor. Several good stories are
related of the canvass — one of a char
acteristic western dialogue with an old
hunter, whom the candidate circum.'
vented by a judicious appeal to his
rifle. "Have you a g*ood rifle, my
friend?" asked Mr. Clay. "Yes."
"Did it ever flash?" "Once only."
" Did you throw it away on that ac
count ?" " No, I picked the flint and
tried it again." " Have I ever flashed
but upon the compensation bill?"
" No." " Will you throw me away ?"
" No, no ; I will pick the flint and try
you again." A story coupled with
this in the campaign biographies is still
better. It should be premised that
Mr. Pope, the opposition candidate,

152

HENRY CLAY.

had in his early days lost an arm.
There was an Irish barber in Lexing
ton, one Jeremiah Murphy, whom Clay
on some occasion had helped out of
prison, who was observed, contrary to
the loquacious habits of his race, to be
silent on the subject of his vote. A
friend of Clay was bent upon sound
ing him, and at length obtained an
answer. "I tell you what, docthur,
I mane to vote for the man that can
put but one hand into the treasury."
Clay was elected over his opponent,
and took his seat, again to be elected
Speaker in the neAV Congress. It was
the first session under the administra
tion of Mr. Monroe, and is signalized
in the history of Mr. Clay by his
efforts in behalf of the recognition by
the government of the political inde
pendence of the South American Re
publics. He undertook this champion
ship with a chivalric earnestness, and
resolutely as ever political knight errant
tilted for a favorite measure, pursued it
to the end and victory. He had bro
ken ground on this theme in his speech
on the state of the Union, in January,
1816 ; he now followed it up at every
opportunity, when the conduct of Spain
in the Florida claim was under discus
sion, and when an appropriation for
the Commissioners of Inquiry sent to
South America was before the House.
He would have a minister accredited
to the Independent Provinces of La
Plata. His speech on this occasion,
singled out as one of his masterpieces,
was delivered in March, 1818 ; but the
end he desired was not gained. He
did not lose sight of it ; but it was not
till February, 1821, that he had the

satisfaction of introducing his resolu
tion pledging the House to the sup
port of the President when he should
deem it expedient to recognize the in
dependence of the Provinces, and, after
battling it in a private debate, seeing
it at last triumphant. The President
acted in accordance with the intima
tion in bringing the matter directly
before the House, which adopted the
measure with but one dissenting voice.
The conduct of this, question was
highly creditable to Clay's disinterest
ed feeling. " His zeal in the cause,"
as his biographer remarks, " was unal
loyed by one selfish impulse, or one
personal aim. He could hope to gain
no political capital by his course. He
appealed to no sectional interest, sus
tained no party policy, labored for no
wealthy client, secured the influence
of no man, or set of men, in his cham
pionship of a remote, unfriended and
powerless people."1 In a like spirit,
some years after, in 1823, he brought
his eloquence to the aid of Mr. Webster,
in his advocacy of the recognition of
Greece in her struggle for indepen
dence., In reference to the threatened
danger from the measure to our com
merce in the Mediterranean, he said " a
wretched invoice of figs and opium has
been spread before us to repress our
sensibilities and eradicate our human
ity. Ah, sir, 'what shall it profit a
man if he gain the whole world and
lose his own soul V or what shall it
avail a nation to save the whole of a
miserable trade and lose its liberties ?"
In the discussion of the Missouri
1 Sargent's Clay, p. 25.

HENRY CLAY.

153

question, Mr. Clay bore a prominent
part. He was . opposed to the exclu
sion of slavery, and labored earnestly
to impress his views upon the House,
which, by a small majority, maintained
the contrary opinion. We first hear
of him at this time in connection with
a word with Avhich his fame was to
be afterwards identified — Compromise.
The House, after accepting the unre
stricted admission, of the State in the
Missouri bill, and what is known as
the Missouri Compromise, establish
ing the northern limit of slavery,
became irritated by a clause in the
Missouri constitution, proposing to ex
clude free negroes and mulattoes from
the State. To meet this difficulty, and
any question of the violation of the
right of citizenship which might be
involved in the condition, Mr. Clay,
as chairman of a committee which he
had proposed, brought forward a reso-
. lution admitting the State, provided
that no law was to be passed prevent
ing the settlement of persons citizens
of any other State. The resolution
was negatived at the time, but he
shortly after moved a joint commit
tee of the House and Senate, which
was accepted and the admission ad
justed substantially on his basis.
Before this question was determined,
Mi*. Clay, anxious to give attention to
his fortunes at home, had resigned his
seat in the House, but was prevailed
upon to retain it till the conclusion of
this struggle, one of the severest in the
annals of Congressional warfare. He
then retired and devoted himself to
his professional labors for nearly three
years, when he was again elected,

without opposition, to the House of
Representatives, of which he became
yet once more Speaker. It was the
time of Lafayette's passage through
the country, in 1824, and when the
chieftain visited Washington, it fell to
the Speaker to welcome him to the
House. Most gracefully was the duty
discharged, in an address which, though
brief, was charged, with flOAving elo
quence. < Few, if any,, of the orators
in Congress could, like Mr. Clay, in
so few words, embark his audience on
a -swelling tide of sentiment. Set off
by his musical utterance, the charm
was doubly assured. " The vain wish
has been sometimes indulged," was his
language in this admired composition,
"that Providence would allow the
patriot, after death, to return to his
country and to contemplate the inter
mediate changes which had taken
place — to view the forests felled, the
cities built, the mountains levelled, the
canals cut, the highways constructed,
the progress of the arts, the advance
ment of learning, and the increase of
population. General, your present visit
to the United States is a realization of
the controlling object of that wish.
You are in the midst of posterity.
Everywhere you must have been struck
with the great changes, physical and
moral, which have occurred since you
left us. Even this very city, bearing
a venerated name, alike endeared to
you and to us, has since emerged from
the forest which then covered its site.
In one respect you find us unaltered,
and that is in the sentiment of conti
nued devotion to liberty, and of ardent
affection and profound gratitude to

154

HENRY CLAY.

your departed friend, the Father of his
Countiy, and to you and your illustri
ous associates in the field and in the
cabinet, for the multiplied blessings
which surround us, and for the very
privilege of addressing you, Avhich I
now exercise. This sentiment, now
fondly cherished by more than ten mil
lions of people, will be transmitted
Avith unabated vigor, down the tide
of time, through the countless millions
who are destined to inhabit this conti
nent, to the latest posterity."
The popularity of Mr. Clay, the na
tionality of his views, and above all,
his constant devotion to public life,
marked him out, distinctly as Andrew
Jackson himself, in the line for the
Presidency. In the election of 1824
both were for the first time in the field,
John Quincy Adams, and Crawford, of
Georgia, being the other candidates.
Clay was nominated by his friends in
Kentucky, and other western States.
The electoral vote Avas ninety-nine for
Jackson, eighty-four for Adams, forty-
one for Crawford, and thirty-seven for
Clay — the votes of Ohio, Missouri,
Kentucky, and four from New York.
No one having the necessary majority,
the choice, according to the provision
of the Constitution, was to be made by
the House of Representatives from the
three highest. Mr. Clay was conse
quently excluded, but he held the con
trol of the election in the vote of Ken
tucky, which was cast for Adams, and
consequently against Jackson, Crawford
being removed from the arena by a
fatal illness. This preference of Adams
by Clay was considered a violation of
party allegiance by his democratic

friends, and naturally rendered him
odious to the disappointed Jacksonites,
whose principle, controlled by the iron
Avill of their chief, was always to be un
sparing to their political opponents.
The storm rose still higher when
Mr. Clay accepted office under Adams
as Secretaiy of State — an error of pol
icy, as he afterwards admitted, for it
drew upon him a charge of bargaining
and corruption, of being bought over
to the interests of the candidate whom
his vote had elected, by this prize of
office. Conscious of his own integrity
in the matter, he said, when the admi
nistration he had served had long
passed away, he had " underrated the
power of detraction and the force of
ignorance." If the detractors had
stopped to consider, they might have
found honorable grounds for his pre
ference. He had already placed him
self in a certain antagonism to Jackson
by his speech in 1819, in the House, in
favor of rebuking the assumptions of
poAver by the military chieftain in the
Seminole Avar ; and though his course
on that occasion was purely patriotic,
Avith no unfriendly feeling to the man,
his judgment of his qualifications for
the Presidency could not fail to be in
fluenced by the issue. He doubtless
also looked upon Adams as one more
likely to pursue his own favorite pol
icy of internal improvements and do*
mestic manufactures. As for any bar
gain in the case, it was disproved by
Clay's avowed preference of Adams to
Jackson before the occasion arose.
Nothing could be more natural than
that Mr. Adams should, on his own
account, seek to support his adminis-

HENRY CLAY.

155

tration by the services of such a man
as Mr. Clay, in the office of Secretary
of State.
For the time, however, the enemies
of the new secretary had the ear of the
public. An occasion arose in the sec
ond year of the administration which
brought the matter to a personal issue.
"We have seen Mr. Clay's advocacy of
the independence of the South American
Republics. In accordance with his old
views, he was now bent upon a further
association with their cause in the pro
motion of a great cis- Atlantic Ameri
can policy in the appointment of a de
legation to the congress at Panama,
which was invited by the Mexican and
Central American representatives at
Washington. John Randolph, whose
genius had often been in opposition to
Mr. Clay, opposed the measure with
the full force of his argument and in
vective. In a speech in the Senate he
went so far as to throAV out an intima
tion that the " invitation " to action
proceeded from the office of the Secre
tary of State, and in an allusion of
great bitterness, denounced the union
of Adams and Clay as " a coalition
of Blifil and Black George, a combin
ation, unheard of till then, of the puri
tan with the blackleg." The venom
of the attack, pointing a charge of
fraud with such cunning emphasis,
brought from Mr. Clay a challenge.
It was accepted by Randolph, and the
duel was fought on the banks of the
Potomac. The first fire of neither took
effect, though both shots were Avell
aimed. At the second, Mr. Clay's bul
let pierced his antagonist's coat. Ran
dolph, as he had all along intended,

though he was diverted from this
course in the first instance, fired his
pistol in the air, upon which Mr. Clay
advanced with great emotion, exclaim
ing, " I trust in God, my dear sir, you
are untouched ; after what has occurred,
I Avould not have harmed you for a
thousand worlds."1 It Avas a duel
which should not have been fought;
there was no hate between two such chi
valrous opponents, who understood one
another's better qualities, and the joy
at the harmless termination of the
affair was sincere on both sides.
Years after, when Randolph was about
leaving Washington for the last time,
just before his death, he was brought
to the Senate. " I have come," he
said, as he was iclped to a seat while
Clay was speaking, "to hear that
voice." The courtesy, burying long
years of political controversy, was met
at the conclusion of his remarks with
his accustomed magnanimity by the
orator. "Mr. Randolph, I hope you
are better, sir," he said, as he ap
proached him. "No, sir," was the
reply ; " I am a dying man, and I came
here expressly to have this interview
Avith you." The sun of that brilliant
existence, a checkered day of darkness
and splendor, wrent not down upon his
wrath. It was the spring of 1833
when this memorable incident occurred,
the period when Mr. Clay Avas advo
cating the compromise of the tariff, to
save the country from what appeared
to him impending civil war. Ran
dolph, in one of his county Virginia
speeches, had previously pointed to the

1 Garland's Life of John Randolph, II. 260.— Benton's
Thirty Tears' View, I. 1 6.

156

HENRY CLAY.

Kentucky orator for this service.
" There is one man," said he, " and one
man only, who can save this Union :
that man is Henry Clay. I know he
has the power; I believe he will be
found to have the patriotism and firm
ness equal to the occasion." 1
Previously to that, however, a new
administration was to enter on the
scene. Mr. Clay, having filled the
office of Secretary of State with emi
nent usefulness to the country, particu
larly in the management of the foreign
questions of trade and negotiation
which arose, retired with the ill-fated
Adams to make way for the victorious
hero of New Orleans. The retirement
of the secretary, however, in face of
the new power, was not without its
consolations in the tributes of his
friends and the public. On his Avay to
his home at Ashland — he had married
on his first arrival in the country, and
had now a rising family around him —
he Avas received everywhere with en
thusiasm. The citizens of Lexington,
following the example of other towns
on his route, gave him a complimentary
banquet. Like honors were paid the politician
in retirement, on occasion of a family
visit to New Orleans, at that city and
along his route. Powers like his, how
ever, were not long to rest unused in
the service of the State. At the close
of 1831 he was elected to the Senate,
and, about the same time, nominated
for the Presidency by the National Re
publican Convention at Baltimore. In
the Senate he advocated the recharter of
* Garland's Randolph, II. 362.

the United States Bank, Avhich Avas car-
ried, and then vetoed by the President,
He also set forth at length the principles
of his American system of Protection, in
the discussion on the tariff, which end
ed favorably to his policy. Some
amendments were made, relieving non
protected articles, but the concession
did not satisfy the growing hostility of
the South. The South Carolina Nulli
fication resolutions passed in November,
1832, were followed by the famous
Proclamation of Jackson in December,
and the Force Bill in the Senate of the
ensuing January. At this moment,
realizing the prediction of Randolph
already cited, Clay in February intro
duced his Compromise bill, providing
for a gradual reduction of the obnox
ious tariff. It was accepted in the
emergency by all parties in the country
and the threatened storm passed over.
In the mean time the Presidential
election had occurred, demonstrating
an extraordinary advance in the popu
larity of the omnipotent Jackson. The
contest was between him and Clay,
the latter receiving, out of two hun
dred and eighty-eight, but forty-nine
votes — those of Massachusetts, Rhode,
Island, Connecticut, Delaware, Mary
land and Kentucky. Thus, strongly
fortified, Jackson commenced his sec
ond term, inaugurating his new rule
by his much discussed act, the removal
of the deposits from the Bank of the
United States. It created a storm of
opposition, as a violent, unconstitu
tional act, which found vent in the
Senate in Mr. Clay's resolution of cen
sure, introduced at the opening of the
new Congress, and with some modifica-

HENRY CLAY.

157

tion adopted in the following March ;
the famous resolution which became
the subject of Mr. Benton's sIoav and
pertinacious hostility till he triumphed
in the passage of his Expunging Act.
Not even the eloquence of Clay, exert
ed to the last, could resist the Well
ordered drill of the Jackson parlia
mentary forces. Previously to the
winter session of 1833, Mr. Clay made
a visit to the northern cities of the sea
board, extending his journey as far as
Boston. It was one continued popular
triumph. Had he occupied the Presi
dential chair he could have received
no more attention. - There was always
something in the man which inspired
the enthusiasm of the people.
In 1835 Mr. Clay was enabled to
render a signal service to the country
by the interposition of his report as
chairman of the Committee on Foreign
Affairs, checking the prompt measures
of Jackson for the recovery of the
debt due from France, and giving that
nation an opportunity of reconsidering
its legislation — a delay which resulted
in the payment of the debt, in place of
a fierce and expensive war. A third
time did Mr. Clay thus perform the
part in Congress, of the great pacifica
tor. On the conclusion of his senator
ial term he was again chosen, and con
tinued in the office to the completion
of the new period in 1842. Harrison
meanwhile had come into office, having
received the nomination of the Harris-
burg Convention over Clay, who was
a popular candidate, and Mr. Tyler
had, in a short month, fallen heir to
the Presidency The whig party, led
by Clay, was for a time in the ascend-
n.-20

ant, but its measures were steadily re
sisted by the new President.
It would be unjust to the memory of
Henry Clay, in the briefest narrative
of his career, not to pause at his sol
emn, affecting leave-taking of the Sen
ate. It was inspired throughout by
feeling and manly courtesy, and, deli
vered with his graceful elocution,
affected his audience to tears. No act
of the kind was ever performed with
more genuine emotion. The rich na
ture of the man, ardent, lofty, sympa
thetic, Avas poured forth in one contin-
ued strain of touching eloquence. He
spoke of his long public duties, of the
trials and reAvards of his career, of the
motives which had nerved him and
of the kindness with Avhich he had
been received. His tribute to Ken
tucky was an outburst of gratitude
which the State should cherish among
her proudest records. " Everywhere,"
said he, " throughout the extent of this
great continent, I have had cordial,
warm-hearted, faithful and devoted
friends, who have known me, loved
me, and appreciated my motives. To
them, if- language were capable of fully
expressing my acknoAvledgments, I
would noAV offer all the return I have
the poAver to make for their genuine,
disinterested, and persevering fidelity
and devoted attachment, the feelings
and sentiments of a heart overflowing
with never-ceasing gratitude. If, how
ever, I fail in suitable language to ex
press my gratitude to them for all the
kindness they have shoAvn me, what
shall I say, what can I say at all com
mensurate Avith those feelings of grati
tude with which I have been inspired

158

HENRY CLAY.

by the State whose humble representa
tive and servant I have been in this
chamber ? I emigrated from Virginia
to the State of Kentucky now nearly
forty-five years ago : I went as an or
phan boy who had not yet attained
the age of majority ; who had never
recognized a father's smile nor felt his
warm caresses ; poor, penniless, without
the favor of the great, with an imper
fect and neglected education, hardly
sufficient for the ordinary business and
common pursuits of life ; but scarce
had I set my foot upon her generous
soil when I was embraced with paren
tal fondness, caressed as though I had
been a favorite child, and patronized
with liberal and unbounded munifi
cence. From that period the highest
honors of the State have been freely
bestowed upon me ; and when, in the
darkest hour of calumny and detrac
tion, I seemed to be assailed by all the
rest of the world, she interposed her
broad and impenetrable shield, repelled
the poisoned shafts that were aimed
for my destruction, and vindicated my
good name from every malignant and
unfounded aspersion. I return with
indescribable pleasure to linger a while
longer, and mingle with the warm
hearted and whole-souled people of
that State; and when the last scene
shall forever close upon me, I hope that
my earthly remains will be laid under
her green sod, with those of her gallant
and patriotic sons."
His apology for any offence he might
have committed in the heat of debate
was uttered as he only could utter it,
when he turned for a moment to the
contemplation of the nobler struggles

of eloquence the Senate had witnessed.
In conclusion, he invoked "the most
precious blessings of heaven " upon all
and each, and " that most cheering and
gratifying of all human rewards, the
cordial greeting of their constituents,
' Well done, good and faithful servant.'
And now," he ended, " Mr. President
and senators, I bid you all a long, a
lasting, and a friendly farewell."
The farewell was honestly taken, but
it was not to be long or lasting. He
returned home, visited New Orleans
again in the winter, and, as formerly,
was called upon to address the public
in advocacy of the measures with which
he was identified. He was again looked
to as a candidate for the Presidency,
Avith the most earnest anticipations
of his success. He was nominated
at Baltimore by the Convention ; Mr.
Polk was arrayed in opposition to him
on the Texas, annexation question, and
he was a third time defeated. His
course Avas a manly one. He had spo
ken out frankly on the Texas issue, as
involving a war with Mexico, and his
prediction came to pass. He had the
proud satisfaction of saying, "I had
rather be right than President." The
vote stood one hundred and seventy
for Mr. Polk and one hundred and fwe
for Mr. Clay — the large votes of Penn
sylvania and New York being gained
by small majorities. The entire popu
lar vote stood for Polk, 1,336,196 ; for
Clay, 1,297,912, with a small vote for
Birney, the abolition candidate — so
near did Mr. Clay come to the Presi
dency and fail of reaching it. His
friends, the large party which he repre
sented, would haAre rallied upon him in

HENRY CLAY.

153

1848, but the party movers had been
taught the value of expediency, and
the magic of a military reputation.
Clay was strong on the first ballot in
the Convention, but General Taylor*
received the nomination, and was borne
into the office, like Harrison, soon to
yield it to the universal Conqueror.
Mr. Clay, during this time, was liv
ing in comparative retirement at Ash
land, engaged in the occasional practice
of his profession, and receiving the
visits of his friends. He had a sin
gular proof of their kindness in the
unexpected payment of a mortgage on
his estate. It became known that he
was involved by the loan of his name.
A subscription was taken up in the
chief Atlantic cities, and at New Or
leans, and the full amount — more than
twenty-five thousand dollars — deposit
ed to his credit in the Northern Bank
of Kentucky. Other evidences of
kindness poured in upon him, consola
tory to his years and trials — for he was
now to reap the bitter fruit of the
Mexican war, certainly not of his plant
ing, in the death of his son Henry, at
the battle of Buena Vista. About
this time, carrying out a resolve pre
viously formed, he attached himself to
the Episcopal church, was baptized
and confirmed and partook the sacra
ment. In 1849, having been elected for the
full term, he was seated again in the
Senate of the United States. His
Compromise Resolutions of 1850, touch
ing the new territorial questions aris
ing out of the Mexican war, were the
last great parliamentary efforts of his
career. He proposed that California

should be admitted without restriction
as to the introduction or exclusion of
slavery ; that " slavery not existing by
law, and not likely to be introduced
into any territory acquired by the
United States from the republic of
Mexico, it Avas inexpedient for Congress
to provide by law either for its intro
duction into, or exclusion from, any
part of said territory ; and that appro
priate territorial governments ought to
be established by Congress in all of
said territory not assigned as the boun
daries of the proposed State of Cali
fornia, without the adoption of any
restriction or condition on the subject
of slavery ;" that " it is inexpedient to
abolish slavery in the District of Co
lumbia, while that institution contin
ues to exist in the State of Maryland,
without the consent of that State,
without the consent of the people of
the District, and without just compen
sation to the owners of slaves within
the District ; but that it is expedient
to prohibit within the District the
slave trade, in slaves brought into it
from States or places beyond the limita
of the District, either to be sold there
in as merchandise, or to be transported
to other markets, without the District
of Columbia."
In another resolution he declared
more effectual provision should be
made for the restitution and delivery
of persons held to service or labor in
any State, who may escape into any
other State or Territory in the Union,
and that " Congress has no power to
prohibit or obstruct trade in slaves be
tween the slaveholding States ; but
that the admission or exclusion of

160

HENRY CLAY.

slaves, brought from one into another
of them, depends exclusively upon their
own particular laws." Such, with a
stipulation for the debt and bounda
ries of Texas, were the provisions with
which Mr. Clay sought to put at rest
the formidable agitation which arose
out of the slavery question. The ad
mission of California, the adjustment
of the Texas debt, the organization of
the Territories of NeAV Mexico and
Utah, the prohibition of the slave
trade in the District of Columbia, and
the Fugitive Slave LaAV, were all in ac
cordance with 4;h.ese recommendations.
In the Congress of 1850-51, under
the Presidency of Mr. Fillmore, Mr.
Clay was in his seat, battling for his
old issues of the tariff and internal im
provements. In the following year he"
returned once more to the Senate, too
ill and enfeebled to take any active
part in its proceedings. The consump
tion which was wearing out his life
soon confined him to his room, where
his last act partaking of a public na
ture was his reception of the Hunga
rian patriot, Kossuth. He compliment
ed the zealous orator on his fascinating
eloquence, "fearing," he said, "to come
under its influence, lest his faith might
be shaken in some principles in regard
to the foreign policy of this govern
ment, which he had long and constantly
cherished." The principles which he
feared might be endangered were those
recommended by Washington's Fare
well Address, advising no interference
beyond the influence of our example
with the internal difficulties of Europe.
" Far better," he said, " is it for our
selves, for Hungary and for the cause

of liberty, that adhering to our wise,
pacific system, and avoiding the dis
tant wars of Europe, we should keep
our lamp burning brightly on this wes
tern shore, as a light to all nations^
than to hazard its utter extinction amid
the ruins of fallen or falling republics
in Europe."
The brief remaining record is of the
sick chamber, the wasting of bodily
strength, the solicitude of friends, the
ministrations of religion, of which this
noble hearted man, accustomed to rule
Senates and control the policy of the'
nation, was as penitent, resigned, hum
ble a participant as any in the thronged
myriads whom the eloquence of his
voice had ever reached. He died, the
aged patriot, at the full age of seventy-
five, at his lodgings in the National Ho
tel of Washington, " Avith perfect com
posure, without a groan or struggle,"
June 29, 1852.
In the announcement of his death to
the Senate, his colleague, Mr. Joseph
R. Underwood, touched upon his patri-
otic services lightly, for it was not ne
cessary to recall them' in that assembly,
and dwelt upon the many genial quali
ties of the man, his courage and cour
tesy, the strength with which he would
contend, the ease with which he might
be conciliated, his fine business tact,
his " nice, discriminating taste for or
der, symmetry and beauty," the world
wide range of his sympathies, extending
from home, friends and country; his
winning eloquence. " His physical and
mental organization, ' said this speaker,
giving expression to the recollections
of thousands, " eminently qualified him
to become a great and 'mpressive ora-

HENRY CLAY.

161

tor. His person was tall, slender, and
commanding ; his temperament ardent,
fearless and full of hope ; his counte
nance clear, expressive and variable —
indicating the emotion which predomi
nated at the moment with exact simili
tude.1 His voice, cultivated and modu-
1 The person of Mr. Clay was thus described by his
biographer, Mr. Colton, in 1845 : " Mr. Clay is a tall
man, six feet and one inch ; not stout, but the opposite ;
has long arms and a small head ; always erect in stand
ing, walking or talking ; in debate, still mor.e erect ; has
a well shaped head, and a dauntless profile ; an uncom
monly large mouth, upper lip commanding, nose promi
nent, spare visage, and blue eyes, electrical when kindled ;
forehead high, sloping backward in a curvilinear line,
that bespeaks the man ; hair naturally light, and slow to
put on the frosts of age ; withal, displaying a well-formed
person and imposing aspect, with which, it is supposed,
an amateur or connoisseur in human shape and counte
nance would not be like!" to find much fault."

lated in harmony with the sentiment
he desired to express, fell upon the ear
like the melody of enrapturing music.
His eye beamed with intelligence, his
gestures and attitudes were graceful
and natural. These personal advan
tages won the prepossessions of an au
dience, even before - his intellectual
powers began to move his hearers ; and
when his strong common sense, his pro
found reasoning, his clear conceptions
of his subject in all its bearings, and
his striking and beautiful illustrations,
united with such personal qualities,
were brought to the discussion of any
question, his audience was enraptured,
convinced and led by the orator as if
enchanted by the lyre of Orpheus,"

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN.

Thts eminent statesman, like his con
temporary, Andrew Jackson, was of
Irish parentage. His grandfather, James
Calhoun of Donegal, Avith many of the
inhabitants of that northern portion
of the countiy a Presbyterian in faith,
came to America in the year 1733,
bringing with him his son Patrick, a
boy six years old. The family first
landed in Pennsylvania, were then set
tled for a time in Wythe County, in
the western region of Virginia, whence
they were driven by the Indian dis
turbances attendant upon the opening
of the old French war, to emigrate fur
ther, to South Carolina.* In this pro
vince they established themselves at a
spot which became known as the Cal
houn settlement, in the Abbeville dis
trict on the upper waters of the Savan
nah, then a remote frontier territory.
This southern removal took place in
1756, after the defeat of General Brad-
dock, when Virginia lay open to Indian
hostilities. It proved in the end an
exchange of a single peril for others
far more formidable. In South Caro
lina the family were destined to en
counter not merely the Indian in the
fierce contests with the Cherokee, in
which Patrick Calhoun gained a name
among the resolute border heroes of
that wild warfare, but the savage Bri-

ias

ton and the deadly civil struggle of
their own land. The upper country on
the Savannah, bordering on Georgia,
was the scene, during the Revolution
ary war, of fierce and protracted con
flicts, fought out, not in the great issues
of single battles, but in the uninter-
mitted, murderous strife of constant
invasion. In the years, however, inter
vening between the two struggles, the
Calhoun family managed to make good
their position in their settlement, so
that they were enabled to maintain it
against all opposition, though at a
fearful cost. Patrick Calhoun, in 1770,
married Martha Caldwell, of Virginia,
also of Irish Protestant parentage.
Three of her brothers were victims or
sufferers in the Revolutionary contest.
One was murdered by the Tories by
the side of his burning dwelling ; ano
ther fell fighting for his country at
Cowpens ; a third was imprisoned a
long time by the English at St. Au
gustine. This horrid strife was just closing
in the lingering of the conflict in
South Carolina, already determined bv
the surrender at Yorktown, when John
Caldwell Calhoun, the youngest but
one of a family of five children, was
born at the family settlement, March
18, 1782. The unsettled state of the

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JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN

163

country at the period of his childhood,
of course, offered little or no opportuni
ty for what is too v exclusively called
education. There was not an academy
in the whole region, and but an occa
sional schoolmaster of any description,
and he was not likely, when found, to
be of the best. The boy, however, had
the instruction of the vigorous race
among whom he wTas born, men
strengthened in their resolves and tu
tored in their rights by the severe les
sons of the Revolution. The mind of
a keen, intelligent boy was not likely
to stagnate Avith such recent traditions
lying thickly about him. He had, too,
in the loving example of his father, a
man of great energy and resolution, in
the full maturity of life, a constant
source of strength. Such influences as
these, however, though all-important
in the formation of character, are of lit
tle avail to the higher usefulness of life,
without the positive instruction of
books and learning. They are oppor
tunities which can be brought into ac
tion only by literary culture. In vain
does the Avind pursue its strong career
over the buoyant depths of the ocean,
unless it be fettered to the sails of the
bark, skilfully constructed to avail it
self of those natural forces.
The young Calhoun, happily, was
not without some of these learned ap
pliances, though his education in his
boyhood Avas irregular and he was
mostly self-taught — a term which we
apply to what one learns from printed
volumes, and a hundred different
sources, without the interposition of a
schoolmaster or professor — as if the
words of the greatest minds of the past

and present in books, and the actions
of men, were not more direct and forci
ble instruction than the average hire
ling pedagogue. Be this as it may, in
the present case the boy was left to
find his own way at first into the plea
sant fields of literature. He Avas sent
at thirteen to the school of his brother-
in-law, the Rev. Mr. Waddell, in a
neighboring county in Georgia ; but
all teaching Avas speedily interrupted
there by the breaking up of the estab
lishment in consequence of the death
of the preceptor's wife. Fortunately
for the youth, who remained on the
spot, there was a small circulating lib
rary in the house, in charge of his bro
ther-in-law, the clergyman, to Avhich he
had free access ; and here we may see
the early natural bent and force of the
boy's mind. It was not to poetry or
romance that he directed his attention,
but to history, of Avhich he deA-oured
all that the library contained — Rollin,
Robertson's Charles V. and America,
Voltaire's Charles XII. — not a large
stock, but sufficient to furnish the mind
of an earnest, reflecting boy. There
was Cook's Voyages also to give wings
to his imagination, and enough meta
physics in BroAvn and Locke to stimu
late the reasoning faculties Avhich were
to be the prominent mark of the man.
The young student became so improved
in these books, all of which he con
sumed in fourteen weeks, that his
health began to suffer, "his eyes be
came seriously affected, his countenance
pallid, and his frame emaciated." His
mother, hearing of these difficulties,
sent for him home, Avhere, occupying
himself Avith the duties of the farm—

164

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN.

his father was now dead, and his
brothers absent — he recovered his
health, and in four years' sturdy em
ployment in rural pursuits and amuse
ments strengthened his constitution for
his future labors.
He noAV appeared far more likely to
folloAV the life of a planter than to en
ter the Senate of the United States,
Avhen his elder brother, James, who
Avas in a counting-house at Charleston,
coming home in the summer of 1800,
urged him to aim at one of the profes
sions. His answer was characteristic.
He said his " property was small and
his resolution fixed : he would far
rather be a planter than a half-informed
physician or lawyer. With this deter
mination he could not bring his mind
to select either Avithout ample prepara
tion ; but if the consent of their ' mo
ther should be freely given, and he
(James) thought he could so manage
his property as to keep him in funds
for study preparatory to entering his
profession, he Avould leave home and
commence his education the next
Aveek." a The conditions were agreed
to, the arrangements made and John
returned again to his brother-in-law the
clergyman, Avho had married again and
resumed his school. He was eighteen
when he thus recommenced, if, indeed,
he may not be said to have begun, his
systematic studies. He pursued them
with such vigor that in two years he
entered the junior class of Yale College,
under the presidency of Dr. Dwight,
and graduated with honor in 1804, in

1 Life of John C. Calhoun (Harpers, 1843), a well writ
ten narrative, to wliicl wo are mainly indebted for the
facts in this sketch.

the beginning of his twenty-third year
To this mature age may doubtless be
attributed much of the benefit which
he received from his instruction. The
soil, not altogether unprepared for its
reception, had lain fallow to .produce a
more certain and bountiful crop. In
the college traditions of his powers, his
strength in argument is remembered.
He was thus early attached to the re
publican or democratic party, and the
story is told of his employing the hour
of instruction in disputation with the
president, arising out of the text of Pa-
ley, on the source of power, which he
maintained to be in the people. Dr.
Dwight is' said to have been so much
struck with his ability as to declare
that "the young man had talent enough
to be President of the United States,"
an augury which, at one time, came to
be thought on the eve of fulfillment.
The topic of the discourse which he
prepared for Commencement was also
indicative of his future career. It was,
" The qualifications necessary to consti
tute a perfect statesman."
From New Haven, Calhoun passed to
the law school of Judge Reeves and
Judge Gould at Connecticut, where he
pursued his studies with eagerness and
left a fragrant memory of his skill in
disputation and public speaking. He
then completed his law studies in
the office of Mr. De Saussure, of
Charleston, and .Mr. George Bowie, of
his native district of Abbeville. His
seven years' apprenticeship to learning
being thus accomplished " according to
his determination Avhen he commenced
his education," he Avas admitted to the
bar and began practice at Abbeville,

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN.

165

continuing to reside in the old family
homestead. He rose at once to emi
nence on the circuit, and speedily in
the councils of his country.
• The event to which his first entrance
upon public life is referred, was one
which, coming as the culmination of a
long series of injuries received since
the peace of 1783, from Great Britain,
stirred up the popular feeling of the
country to a height of excitement diffi
cult at the present day to appreciate.
We allude to the assault of the Leo
pard, upon the Chesapeake, in June,
1807 — the date, it will be observed, of
Mr. Calhoun's entrance on the practice
of the law. Meetings were held to ex
press the public indignation in various
parts of the country, and among other
places, in Abbeville. Calhoun, young,
ardent, inheriting the blood of resist
ance from his father, was on hand to
give expression to the general voice.
He prepared the resolutions of "the as
sembly, and supported them by a vig
orous speech. The people caught him
up as their representative, and their
votes carried him into the State legis
lature at the next election. He served
two sessions, establishing his character
as a sagacious politician and earnest
man for the times, when, in the autumn
of 1810, he was elected to the twelfth
Congress of the United States. He
w^nt to Washington an avowed sup
porter of the Avar policy; and it was
by his energy, as much as that of any
man, that this policy was carried into
effect. Henceforth he is devoted to
public life, and lives and breathes in the
councils of the nation. He was placed
on the Committee of Foreign Relations,
n.— 21

and spoke on the portion of the Presi
dent's message which fell to the consi
deration of that body. He was at the
outset second on the committee Avhen
the retirement of its chairman, Mr.
Porter, placed him at its head. His
reports in this influential position led
the war movement of the country. In
his speech of December 12, 1811, on
the proposition of the enlistment of
an additional force of ten thousand
regular troops, in reply to the re
marks of John Randolph, he thus
happily met the charge — often thrown
out in those times Avhen the choice of
going to war appeared to be whether
France or Great ""Britain should be
taken as the antagonist — of hatred to
England. " The gentleman from Vir
ginia is at a loss to account for what
he calls our hatred to England. He
asks, how can we hate the country of
Locke, of Newton, Hampden and Chat
ham ; a country having the same lan
guage and customs with ourselves and
descending from a common ancestry?
Sir, the laws of human " affection are
steady and uniform. If we have so
much to attach us to that country, po
tent indeed must be the cause which
has overpowered it. Yes, there is a
cause strong enough; not in that oc
cult courtly affection which he has sup
posed to be entertained for France ;
but it is to be found in continued and
unprovoked insult and injury — a cause
so manifest, that the gentleman from
Virginia had to exert much ingenuity
to overlook it. But the gentleman, in
his eager admiration of that country,
has not been sufficiently guarded in his
argument. Has he reflected on the

166

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN.

cause of that admiration ? Has he ex
amined the reasons of our hign regard
for Chatham ? It is his ardent patriot-
triotism, the heroic courage of his mind,
that could not brook the least insult -or
injury offered to his countiy, but
thought that her interest and honor
ought to be vindicated at every hazard
and expense. I hope, when we are
called upon to admire, we shall also be
asked to imitate." Another passage
which has been much admired, will
show the quick, fertile, intellectual pro
cesses which the young orator intro
duced into the dry discussions of the
House. It is from his speech of June
24, 1812, on the proposition to repeal
the Non-importation Act. Gliding into
this portion of his subject, the consid
eration of the general worth of the em
bargo, by an admirable touch of irony
he acquits it of being a "pusillani
mous " measure : " To lock up the
whole commerce of this country ; to
say to the most trading and exporting
people in the world, 'you shall not
trade, you shall not export ;' to break
in upon the schemes of almost every
man in society, is far from weakness,
very far from pusillanimity."
He then objects to the restrictive
system, that it is not suited to the ge
nius of the people, the government, or
the geographical character of the coun
try. "No passive system," he says,
" can suit such a people, in action supe
rior to all others, in patience and endu
rance inferior to many." As for the
government, it is " founded on freedom
and hates coercion," while the geogra
phy of the country renders the preven
tion of smuggling impossible. He

next exhibits the government rendered
odious by the embargo, and with great
subtilty contrasts the pressure with
the burdens of war. " The privation,"
he says, " it is true, may be equal or
greater; but the public mind, under
the strong impulses of such a state, be
comes steeled against sufferings. The
difference is great between the passive
and active state of mind. Tie down a hero
and he feels the puncture of a pin ; but
throAV him into battle, and he is scarce
ly sensible of vital gashes. So in war.
Impelled alternately by hope and fear,
stimulated by revenge, depressed with
shame or elevated by victory, the peo
ple become invincible. No privation
can shake their fortitude, no calamity
can break their spirit. Even where
equally unsuccessful, the contrast is
striking. War and restriction may
leave the country equally exhausted ;
but the latter not only leaves you poor,
but, even when successful, dispirited,
divided, discontented, with diminished
patriotism, and the manners of a consi
derable portion of your people corrupt
ed. Not so. in war. . . . Sir, I would
prefer a single victory over the enemy,
by sea or land, to all the good we shall
ever derive from the continuation of
the Non-importation Act. The memory
of a Saratoga or a Eutaw is immortal.
It is there you will find the country's
boast and pride, the inexhaustible
source of great and heroic actions.
But Avhat Avill history say of restric
tion? What examples Avorthy of
imitation will it furnish posterity?
What pride, what pleasure will our
children find in the events of such
times ? Let me not be considered as

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN.

1«7

romantic. This nation ought to be
taught to rely on its oaati courage, its
fortitude its skill and virtue, for pro
tection. These are the only safeguards
in the hour of danger. Man was en
dowed with, these great qualities for
his defence. There is nothing about
him that indicates that he must con
quer by enduring. He is not incrusted
in a shell ; he is not taught to rely on
his insensibility, his passive suffering,
for defence. No, no ; it is on the in
vincible mind, on a magnanimous na
ture, that he ought to rely. Herein
lies the superiority of our kind; it is
these that make man the lord of the
world. It is the destiny of our condi
tion that nations should rise above na
tions, as they are endowed in a greater
degree with these shining qualities."
, By such Avords as these was the
nation stimulaed to its exertions in the
second war with Great Britain, and
such eloquence will ever be in request
on like occasions from the lips of youth
ful orators when peaceful policy is to
be thrown aside and heroic energy
excited. Nor Avas it necessary only
that the country should be aroused;
the confidence of the war party Avas
to be sustained; and, throughout the
struggle, in all its vicissitudes, to the
end, the trumpet tones of Calhoun, no
less than his cool argumentative discus
sion, AA-ere heard animating to renewed
effort. In his speech of February 25, 1814,
on the Loan Bill, he discussed with
masterly vigor the aggressive ma
ritime and. commercial policy of Eng
land, and the rights of other nations to
De preserved in an armed neutrality.

" Why," said he, " should I consume
time to prove her maritime policy ?
Who is there so stupid as not to see
and feel its effect ? You cannot look
toward her shores and not behold it.
You may see it in her Parliament, her
prints, her theatres, and in her very
songs. It is scarcely disguised.- It is
her pride and boast. . . . The nature
of its growth, indicates its remedy. It
originated in power, has grown in pro
portion as opposing power has been
removed, and can only be restrained by
poAver. Nations are, for the most part,
hot restrained by moral principles, but
by fear. It is an old maxim that they
have heads, but no hearts. They see
their own interests, but do not sympa
thize in the wrongs of others." Then,
briefly noticing the part the country,
standing alone, had borne in the pre
servation of the rights of neutrals, he
turns to assure fainting courage of the
result of perseverance, spite of the in
creased power of Great Britain, left free
by the cessation of her struggle with
France. "But, say our opponents,
their efforts are vain and our condition
hopeless. If so, it only remains for us
to assume the habit of our condition.
We must submit, humbly submit, crave
pardon, and hug our chains. It is not
wise to provoke where we cannot re
sist. But let us be well assured of the
hopeless nature of our condition before
we sink into submission. On what do
our opponents rest their despondent
and slavish belief? On the recent
events in Europe ? I admit they are
great, and well calculated to impose on
the imagination. Our enemy neve
presented a more imposing exterior

1GS

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN.

His fortune is at the flood. But I am
admonished by universal experience
that such prosperity is the most fickle
of human conditions. From the flood
the tide dates its ebb ; from the meri
dian the sun commences his decline.
There is more of sound philosophy
than fiction in the fickleness which
poets attribute to fortune. Prosperity
has its Aveakness, adversity its strength."
If she has overcome France, he said,
she has lost her great stronghold in the
".French influence;" if she has gained
victories, they Avere purchased only by
an exhausting conflict. The armed
neutrality yet remained. European
nations, every day more commercial,
Avill demand the freedom of the seas,
and make common cause against the
monopoly of Great Britain. "No,"
Avas his eloquent exclamation, "the
ocean canuot become property. Like
light and air, it is unsusceptible of the
idea of property. Heaven has given it
to man equally, freely, bountifully;
and all empires attempted to be raised
on it must partake of the fickleness
of its waves." This is eloquence, not
far-fetched or dependent upon pomp of
expression, armed Avith devices to star
tle or confound the listener, but the
quick, fiery, impetuous utterance spring
ing from the heart of the subject, Avith
its living ornaments inwoven with the
very fibre of the discourse. Nor will
the strong, forcible Saxon of this
speech be overlooked. It is a model
of pure English undefiled.
We might linger over passages like
these, growing out of the abundant en
ergy with which the Avar was defended
and pursued by Calhoun in Congress,

calling the reader's attention to this
most important portion of the orator's
career, which has been somewhat
throAvn out of mind by the far differ
ent discussions of his later life, which
have engrossed the attention of a new
generation ; but we must pass on with
our brief narrative. The war being
ended, questions of financial policy
arose, schemes and propositions of
banks, in the treatment of Avhich a Avise
adjustment was to be made between
an adequate provision for the necessi
ties of the public and the private in
terests which ahvays attach themselves
to such institutions. The acute mind
and incorruptible national policy of
Calhoun were here again in the ascend
ant. He resisted such features as he
thought unsound; but waiving the
constitutional scruples of his party,
gave his support to Avhat he thought
indispensable to meet the emergency.
As chairman of the committee on na
tional currency, he introduced the bill
in 1816 to establish a National Bank.
In like manner he supported the tariff
of the same year, and the bill-to pro
mote internal improvements in the fol
lowing. This was the last of his im
portant labors in the House of Repre-
sentatives, from which he was called to
another sphere of public duty in the
cabinet of President Monroe, as Seem
tary of War.
It is said that his political friends in
South Carolina attempted to dissuade
him from accepting this appointment,
thinking that " his mind Avas more me
taphysical than practical," and that "a
rising orator Avould be lost to the House
while the administration would gain

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN.

169

but an indifferent man of business ;
and that he himself would " lose repu
tation in taking charge of a depart
ment, especially one in a state of such
disorder and confusion- as the War De
partment was then." Plausible as
these considerations appeared, one im
portant item was left out in the ac
count, the ability and conscientiousness
of a man of true genius. A high or
der of intellectual faculties will always
naturally draw in its train the perform
ance of inferior duties — if the morality
of any duty can be called inferior.
The skilful analysis, the shrewd sugges
tion, the acute inquiry which can con
duct a debate as Calhoun conducted it,
argue poAvers fully equal to. the disen
tanglement of a complicated. imbroglio
of finance. When Mr. Calhoun entered
the War Department it was in utter
disorder, without even the services of
its old chief clerk, that useful function
ary who is expected to keep the
Avheels of business moving through
successive administrations, having va
cated his post. The new Secretary,
though he had inspired the movements
of fleets and armies, was utterly un-
practiced in the handling of military
affairs ; yet such Avas the result of his
sagacious, insight, careful investigation,
and his methodical mind, that he per
fected a system of organization for the
regulation of the department which
remains in force to this day. He in
fused his energy into all the details of
administration, reviving the Military
Academy, establishing frontier posts,
setting on foot surveys, and originating,
the system of medical observations
which haATe gained a wide repute in

our army statistics. His financial ma
nagement Avas such that he reduced
forty millions of unsettled accounts,
many of them of long standing, to
three millions, diminished the expenses
in various ways, and introduced such
accountability into the system that in
the disbursements of four millions and
a half in one year there was not a sin
gle defalcation nor the loss of one cent
to the government. Let this purity be
remembered as a badge of the most
eminent men of the countiy who have
illustrated the national annals by their
powers of intellect. Genius is some
times disgraced by the lack of honesty
but fraud has no place in the history
of those worthy to be called the fath
ers of the American State.
Mr. Calhoun held the office of Secre
tary of War for seven years, till his
election to the Vice-Presidency, in the
administration of John Quincy Adams,
at the termination of which he was
continued in the same office through
the first term of President Jackson.
This period may be called the troubled
era of his political life. He was disaf
fected to the administration of Adams
at the beginning, and that of Jackson
at the close ; and to the ordinary disa
greements of party in the latter in
stance was added the hostility of a
personal feud resting on the charge of
ancient opposition to the President in
Mr. Monroe's cabinet, in the occurren
ces of the Seminole war. From this
period date the nullification doctrines
smd proceedings which play so impor
tant a part in Mr. Calhoun's political
history. He furnished arguments and
gave strength to the theory, which he

170

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN.

based on an interpretation of the old
Virginia Resolutions of 1789, of the
right of a State to take the cause in its
own hands, and interpose to arrest
what it might consider a violation of
its own proper privileges by the Gene
ral Government — a doctrine which, ap
plied by the minority in South Caro
lina to the tariff of 1828, was met by
the practical conduct and authoritative
declaration of President Jackson, in
his celebrated Proclamation supporting
the laws and authority of the Union.
Mr. Calhoun resigned the Vice-Presi
dency to become the successor, in the
Senate, of Robert Y. Hayne. He took
his seat on the eve of the introduction
of the celebrated Force Bill, levelled at
the movement in South Carolina. The
crisis Avas one well calculated to draw
forth his best poAvers, as he stood the
representative, on the floor over which
he had so long presided, of the obnox
ious political heresy of "nullification."
In the debate which ensued, the closing
struggle Avas between him and Web
ster, on the interpretation and powers
of the Constitution, Avhether, as an inde
pendent authority, a fundamental law
of the land, an obligation binding
upon the people, or a compact betAveen
States. Calhoun's speech on this occa
sion, delivered on the 26th February,
1833, is considered one of his master
efforts. Its mischievous heresy, laid at
rest for a time, has in our own day
reappeared in the progressive develop
ment of Secession — a gigantic sectional
crime, which Ave cannot but think
the parent of the doctrine would have
shrunk from.
Throughout the period of General

Jackson's administration, he continued
in opposition; at war Avith the Presi
dent's alleged "executive usurpations"
in his series of bank measures, joining
Clay and Webster in. the vote of cen
sure, in the Senate, and resolutely oppo
sing the "Expunging Resolution" so
pertinaciously urged by Senator Ben
ton, by which they were blotted from
the record. " This act," said he, in the
closing scene of the last mentioned
affair, "originates in pure, unmixed,
personal idolatry. It is the melancholy
evidence of a broken spirit, ready to
bow at the feet of power. The former
act (the removal of' the deposits) wras
such a one as might have been perpe
trated in the days of Pompey or Caesar;
but an act like this could never have
been consummated by a Roman senate
until the times of Caligula and Nero."
When the long contest over the United
States Bank was succeeded by the cre
ation of the Independent Treasury in
the administration of Van Buren, Mr.
Calhoun gave that measure his earnest
support, setting forth at length his
views on the currency in several
speeches, characterized tj his masterly
poAver of analysis. This apparent de
sertion of the whigs, with whom he had
acted in the bank contest with Jackson,
dreAv upon him an attack from Mr.
Clay, to which he replied in a vindica
tion, compared by an admirer to the
celebrated oration of Demosthenes,
for the Crown, in ansAver to the as
saults of JSschines.
Mr. Calhoun continued in the Senate
till 1843, when he declined a reelec
tion. He was, however, soon brought
into public life again as the successor

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN.

171

jf Mr. Webster, as Secretary of State,
under President Tyler, in 1844, a
period of official duty which he em
ployed in paving the way for the
admission of Texas. On the expira
tion of Tyler's term, he' again took his
seat in the Senate, where he became
the opponent of the war with Mexico.
In the slavery discussion which arose
out of the conquest, he stood forward
as the uncompromising supporter Of
the slave interest, maintaining the
necessity of- an equilibrium between
the two portions of the country, the
North and the South. His theory in
this relation is unfolded at length in
his posthumous work, the employment
of the last years of his life, the "Dis
quisition on Government, and Discourse
on the Constitution and Government
of the United States," edited by Mr.
Richard K. Cralle, and published under
the direction of the General Assembly
of the State of South Carolina. His
theory of State Rights is argued in this
"•omposition with his accustomed force
of argument and felicity of expression,
the discussion ending in a curious pro
position to protect the claims of the
minority by "a reorganization of the
executive department ; so that its pow
ers, instead of being vested, as they
now are, in a single officer, should be
vested in tAvo ; to be so elected as that
the two should be constituted the
special organs and representatives of
the respective sections, in the executive
department of the government ; and
requiring each to approve all the
acts of Congress before they shall be
come laws." His latest effort in the
Seuate, on the 13th- March, was in

some remarks growing out of the dis
cussion on the slavery question. He
was taken home exhausted, and died at
his residence at Washington the last
day of March, 1850, having just com
pleted his sixty-eighth year.'. His dis_
ease was a pulmonary affection, aggra
vated by difficulty at the heart.
The faculties of Calhoun were emi
nently intellectual. He had little re
gard for the merely rhetorical or orna
mental, and it is the highest proof of
his oratory that he succeeded in rous
ing his hearers by the simple force of
argumentative appeal.
" His mind," said that eminent asso
ciate of his best days in the capitol, his
fellow member of the oratorical trium
virate, one • with whom and against
whom he had contended, who had re
joiced in his aid and felt his steel,
Daniel Webster, in his obituary re
marks in the Senate, " was both percep
tive and vigorous. It was clear, quick
and strong. The eloquence of Mr. Cal
houn, or the manner in which he exhi
bited his sentiments in public bodies,
was part of his intellectual character.
It grew out of the qualities of his
mind. It was plain, strong, terse, con
densed, concise ; sometimes impassioned,
still always severe. Rejecting orna
ment, not often seeking far for illus
tration, his power consisted in the
plainness of his propositions, in the
closeness of his logic, and in the ear
nestness and energy of his manner.
These are the qualities which have ena
bled him through such a long course of
years to speak often, and yet always
command attention." He noticed also
the unmixed devotion of his life to

I T&

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOCN.

political duties, of his zealous occupa
tion in serious employment, ".seeming
to have no recreation but the pleasure
of conversation with his friends," while
he celebrated the charms of that con
versational talent, and the delight of
its possessor to exercise it, particularly
in company with the young. The
eulogy ended with a tribute to "the
unspotted integrity and unimpeached
honor" of the man and statesman.
"If he had aspirations, they were high
and honorable and noble. There was
nothing grovelling 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 ai» sure he was, in the principles

that he espoused, and in the measures
that he defended, aside from that large
regard for the species of distinction
that conducted him to eminent stations
for the benefit of the Republic, I do
not believe he had a selfish motive or
selfish feeling." Consistent with this
generous eulogy of his high toned pub
lic career is the tenor of the- great
senator's private life. His liberal hos
pitality and heartfelt enjoyment of the
beauties of nature at his seat, Fort
Hill, surrounded by his family, in.
the mountain region of his native State,
his kindness to his friends and depen
dants, his fondness for agriculture
all stamp the man of genuine simplicity
of mind.

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DANIEL WEBSTER.

The great orator of New England,
and eminent statesman and publicist
of the whole countiy, was descended
from a race of honest yeomen in Ame
rica who traced their ancestry to an an
cient Scottish origin. The first of the
family in America appears to have
been one Thomas Webster, who was
settled in Hampton, New Hampshire,
in 1636. From him Daniel Webster
traced his direct descent. He was his
great-great-grandfather. His son Ebe
nezer Avas the father of one who bore the
same name, who was the parent of a
third Ebenezer, the father of the ora
tor. This last-mentioned Ebenezer was
a small farmer in Kingston, New Hamp
shire, a man of fine personal appear
ance, of energy and character, and
self-taught, rising to positions of trust
and confidence among his townspeople.
He was called upon in his youth to
fight the battles of the Crown- in the
wars with France, and served with dis
tinction in the famous company of Ran
gers commanded by Colonel Rogers,
who gave so good an account of them
selves in the region of Lake Champlain
and on the borders of Canada. On
the conclusion of peace, in 1763, and
the consequent opening of the frontier
to settlement, he became one of an ad
venturous "party which advanced to a
u.-^22

new location on the Merrimac. The
place was so distant at that time that,
in the words of his eloquent son, many
years afterwards, when Ebenezer Web
ster "lapped on, a little beyond any
other comer, and had built his log cab
in and lighted his fire, his smoke as
cended nearer to the North Star than
that of any other of his majesty's
New England subjects. His nearest
civilized neighbor on the north was
at Montreal."
At this spot, which took the name
of Salisbury, Daniel was born, the
fruit of a second marriage, January 18,
1782. His mother, Abigail Eastman,
was a woman of much force of charac
ter, and of a self-relying instinct. To
her and his father, Daniel was alike in
debted for that opportunity of distinc
tion in the world which he so diligent
ly improved. When the Revolution
came on, Captain Webster, like many
another hero of the seven years' war,
took the field in the service of his
countrymen. He was in the engage
ment at White Plains, and a major un
der the famous Stark, at Bennington.
The first education of Daniel Avas at
the hands of his mother or elder sisters.
He said that he never could recollect a
time when he could not read the Bible.
He had also hia share in the humble

178

174

DANIEL WEBSTER.

instructions of the district schoolmas
ter, Avho had found his way even to
that remote region. He probably
OAved little to such teachers, for they
had nothing to impart but reading and
writing, which did not always include
correct spelling. For such association
as he had with them, hoAvever, the pu
pil was not ungrateful, wrhen, more than
half a century afterward, venerable
Master Tappan reminded him of his
existence and of these early lessons.
The great lawyer then recalled how the
schoolmaster had once taken his turn of
migratory living at his father's house,
and cordially assisted his preceptor in his
old age. A few books which had found
their way to a village library at Salis
bury, founded by the lawyer and cler
gyman of the place and his father, were
far more profitable instructors. The
" Spectator " was among them, and the
young Daniel took delight in the stir
ring ballad of Chevy Chase, the verses
of which he picked out from the set
ting of criticism in Avhich Addison had
imbedded them. Isaac Watts he had
by heart, and Pope's " Essay on Man,"
brought home by his father in a pam
phlet, was at once added to this stock
of rhyme3. The seed fell into an- ea
ger soil. He tells us how he met, a
few years later, with Don Quixote, and
that he was so entranced with " that
extraordinary book," so great was its
power' over his imagination, that he
never closed his eyes till he had fin
ished it.
Here, however, the education of
the youth might have been arrested
had he not shown signs of a feeble
constitution, Avln'ch was judged too lit

tle serviceable for the plough. Like
his elder brother, Ebenezer, he would
have been assigned to the farmer's
duty. But other visions doubtless in
terfered. In one of the statesman's let
ters recalling these early scenes, he tells
us of the arrival, one hot day in July,
about the close of Washington's admi
nistration, of a member of Congress
who came up to his father and himself
at work together in the field. The
contrast struck the parent between the
rising man of the State, honorably paid,
and his' own life of ill-requited toil.
" My son," said the father, " that is a
worthy man— he is a member of Con
gress ; he goes to Philadelphia and gets
six dollars a day, while I toil here. It
is because he had an education which
I never had. If I had had his early
education, I should have been in
Philadelphia in his place. I came
near it as it was; but "I missed it,
and now. I must Avork here." "My
dear father," was the reply, " you shall
not work. Brother and I Avill work
for you, and wear our hands out, and
you shall rest." And I remember to
have cried, and I cry noAV — it is Daniel
Webster, in one of his later years,
writing— at the recollection. "My
child," said, the father, " it is of no im
portance to me — I now live but for my
children ; I could not give your elder
brother the advantages of knowledge ;
but I can , do something for you. Ex
ert yourself, improve yom* opportuni
ties — learn, learn, and Avhen I am gone
you will not need to go through the
hardships which I have undergone and
Avhich have made me an old man be
fore my time."

DANIEL WEBSTER.

175

. This was the spirit with which,
mounting his horse and placing his son
on another, he conducted him to the
Phillips Academy, at Exeter, presided
over by that eminent instructor, Dr.
Benjamin Abbott,, and then in the first
enjoyment of the posthumous bounty
of its disinterested founder., The youth
had recently completed his fourteenth
year, ai?d, if Ave may judge from the
modest narrative which he has himself
left in a fragment of autobiography,
does not appear to haATe exhibited any
extraordinary precocity. On the con
trary, he manifested a repugnance and
apparent inability to do at all what he
was celebrated in after life for doing so
much better than others : he could not
be induced by any appeal, and even
the chagrin of his own mortifications,
to go through a simple declamation in
presence of the school. He was utterly
unable, when his name Avas called, to
raise himself from his seat. "When
the occasion was over," he adds, "I
went home and wept bitter tears of
mortification." He had good teachers,
men Avho became eminent in the pro
fessions, among fhem Joseph Stevens
Buckminster, who heard his first reci
tations in Latin ; and he formed thus
early many friendships Avhich lasted
through life. After nearly, a year at
Exeter, he was placed in charge of
the Rev. Samuel Wood at Boscawen,
not far from his father's residence.
This gentleman pursued education for
the love of it, and for the reward it
brought him in the elevation of a Chris
tian community His fees were always
trifling, and he had, on occasion, no un
willingness to relinquish them altoge

ther, for the greater glcry of the com
monwealth, provided only he sent sons
to his favorite Dartmouth. He thus
forwarded, from under his own roof,
more than a hundred to the institution.
As the father of young Webster ac
companied him on the way to his neAV
home Avith this kind preceptor, he in
timated the intention of sending him
to college. The promise Avas welcomed
with fear and joy, and a depth of emo
tion most honorable to the recipient.
In our day, when facilities of this kind
are so freely extended, it is not easy to
appreciate the kind and degree of gra
titude thus aAvakened in an ingenuous
youth. "The very idea," wrote the
thankful son in the fulness of his
reputation, " thrilled my Avhole frame.
My father said he then lived but for
his children, and if I would do all I
could for myself, he would do Avhat he
could for me. I remember that I was
quite overcome, and my head grew
dizzy. The thing appeared to me so
high, and the expense and sacrifice it
was to cost my father, so great, I could
only press his hands and shed tears.
Excellent, excellent parent ! I cannot
think of him, even now, without turn
ing child again."
With his new instructor, Daniel read
Virgil and Cicero, and was warmed by
the latter to an enthusiasm for o'.atory
Avhich never aftenvards failed him.
" With what vehemence did I denounce
Catiline ! with what earnestness strug
gle for Milo !" Put thus upon the
track — his preparation was little more
— he entered Dartmouth College as a
freshman in August, 1797. He was a
diligent, earnest student, and became

176

DANIEL WEBSTER.

highly esteemed for his proficiency, es
pecially in the rhetoric and belles let-
tres departments. There is evidence
of this in the fact that he gained his
support for a year by superintending a
little weekly newspaper, for which he
made the selections and to which he
occasionally contributed, and in his de
livery, in his junior year, in 1800, of a
Fourth of July oration before the good
people of Hanover. The address was
printed, and remains to witness, in its
sounding periods, to his patriotic fer
vor, Avhich even then did not overlook
the blessings of constitutional govern
ment. The young orator would doubt
less have shone with equal distinc
tion, the following year, on taking his
degree, had he not thrown himself out
of his appointment by one of those al
tercations not uncommon with the
arrangement of these college exercises.
The Faculty, out of ; regard for his
English attainments, assigned him the
second part, an English Oration or
Poem, in place of the Latin Salutatory
Disappointed with this order, he took
no part in the Commencement exer-
"cises, though he delivered at the time
an oration on " The Influence of Opin
ion," before the leading college Society,
which gained him great applause.
He left College, however, with a
higher claim to self respect than any
admiration of a promiscuous audience.
The very year on which he graduated
he had been instrumental in bringing
his elder brother Ezekiel to the spot,
and leaving him there on the high
road to professional eminence equal
ling his own subsequent achieve
ments. It was while in his sopho

more year, during a vacation at home;
that the thought of thus benefiting
his brother was seriously taken up by
him. A whole night was passed in
bed betAVeen the two youths in con
sulfation on the subject, neither clos
ing his eyes; but daylight brought
the decision with it, and it was in
consequence of the earnest appeal of
Daniel that Ezekiel was taken from
the plough and placed under the tute
lary care of the beneficent clergyman,
Samuel Wood. Thence he passed to
college, and we shall see how hand
somely his brother seconded his advice
by contributing to his support while
there. Immediately on graduating, Daniel
entered the law' office of his father's
neighbor, Thomas W. Thompson, a
man of some note in his day as a mem
ber of the State legislature, and a Sen
ator in Congress, but he was presently
called off from his legal studies by the
necessity of making some pecuniary
provision for himself, and in this strait
accepted the offer of a school at Frye-
burg, in Maine. He Avas led to this
step by what was then, to him, the
munificent salary of three hundred and
fifty dollars a year, " no small thing," he
says, " for I compared it not with what
might be before me, but what was
actually behind me " — a proper method,
by the way, of estimating one's for
tunes, which would lead to a more gen
eral content. In addition to this he
continued to get something more of
consequence by copying deeds for the
registry of the newly created county
of Oxford. As exact penmanship was
ahvays a troublesome labor to him, we

DANIEL WEBSTER.

177

may estimate his diligence. Thirty
years, he afterward said, had not taken
the ache of that exercise out of his fin
gers; His first vacation, in May, 1802,
was passed in carrying his quarter's
salary to his brother at Hanover, thus
devoting his first earnings to an act of
fraternal friendship. He left Frye-
burg in the autumn, and resumed the
study of the law with his father's
friend, Mr. Thompson. Like Story, he
began with the apex of professional ap
plication, Coke upon Littleton, and
such early and obscure authorities, and
Avas grievously . disheartened by the
process, till luckily, one day, falling
upon Espinasse's law of Nisi Prius, he
found that he could understand what
he read. He always, he said, felt great
ly obliged to that gentleman for his
intelligible labors. At the proper time
Webster as a lavv student did not shun
the more laborious literature of the
profession. He was meanwhile assist
ed at Salisbury by his father's limited
income as judge of the Court of Com
mon Pleas for the county.
His brother Ezekiel having uoav gra
duated, after eking out his support
through three years of college life,
Avhich he made to do the work of four,
by Avinter school teaching, it had be
come necessary, Avrites Daniel, for one
of us to " undertake something that
should bring us a little money, for we
were getting to be 'heinously unpro
vided.' " The younger brother accord
ingly set off for Boston, secured a
teacher's place in that city for Ezekiel,
who in turn invited the elder thither
with the promise of pecuniary assistance,

while he prosecuted his law studies.
In this Avay these brothers labored for
one another. Daniel accordingly pro
ceeded to Boston, with the intention
of making his way into the law. He
had no letters of introduction, and the
future ruler of the Boston bar failed in
his first attempts to gain admission to
an office to study. He however made
a vigorous attempt with an eminent
man who had been employed in Eng
land in the diplomatic service of the
country, and who rose to be governor of
Massachusetts, Christopher Gore. In
the interview^ the youth Avas throAvn
upon his best address, and succeeded
in securing the coveted opening. A
good library was now accessible to him,
Avith an opportunity which he availed
himself of, of attending the higher
courts. He read diligently, and made notes
of his observations. In 1805 he was
admitted to practice in the Suffolk
Court of Common Pleas. It was not,
hoAvever, Avithout a relinquishment of
immediate benefit which cost him an
effort. Not long before the completion
of his legal studies, an office fell va
cant in his father's court, Avhich he was
selected to fill. It was a clerkship
with an income of fifteen hundred dol
lars a year. Here was wealth for the
family to be clutched at with eager
ness. His father thought - it a great
prize gained, and so did the son, who
was hastening to enter this " opening
paradise," when he encountered the ad
vice of Mr. Gore. This learned coun
sellor and man of experience took the
matter very coolly,- said it was undoubt
edly a complimentary offer, and that

178

DANIEL WEBSTER.

he should acknowledge it with all civ
ility — in other words, his monitor
wisely pointed out to him the steady
path and sure rewards of his profession,
in preference to the immediate but un
certain tenure of office. " Go on," was
his memorable advice, worthy, in these
days of office-seeking and its melan
choly adjuncts, of being written in let
ters of gold on our page — " go on and
finish your studies: you are poor
enough, but there are greater evils than
poverty; live on no man's favor ; what
bread you do eat, let it be the bread
of independence ; pursue your profes
sion, make yourself useful to your
friends, and a little formidable to your
enemies, and you have nothing to fear."
Fortified with this invigorating coun
sel, the youth went ¦ down to his father
and somewhat startled the kind old
gentleman, in the first flush of the pro
mised acquisition, by declining it in
favor of his future prospects. Was
the boy's talk empty flattery, or was it
prophecy? The father, in his reply,
seemed uncertain. -" Well, my son,"
said he, and it was all that he said on
the subject, "your mother has always
said that you would come to something
or nothing, she was not sure which ; I
think you are now about settling that
doubt for her." The first return of the
youth for this paternal solicitude, when
he reached his admission to the bar,
was settling himself by the side of his
father, in the neighboring village of
BoscaWen, in the practice of his pro
fession. He thus solaced, by his com
pany, the last year of that parent's
life. Two years and a half Avere spent in

this limited field of legal .practice, when
he removed to Portsmouth, relinquish
ing his local business to his brother, Avho
was then commencing a career at the
bar, which soon led to great distinction
in his State, and would, doubtless, ha\-e
made him as well known to the nation
at large, had his life been prolonged.
At Portsmouth, Daniel married, in
1808, Miss Grace Fletcher, the daugh
ter of a clergyman of valued New
England lineage, and there he con
tinued to reside till 1817. In this
enlarged sphere, he appears to have
met with immediate success, entering
at once, not indeed upon a very lucra
tive practice, but sharing the honors of
the bar of New Hampshire with some
of its most distinguished adepts. He
was employed chiefly on the circuit of
the Superior Court, where, as leading
counsel, he frequently became the
antagonist of Jeremiah Mason, then
in the ' height of his vigor. The emu
lation of the young lawyer with this
distinguished counsellor, with whom
he was often associated as well as in
opposition, was blended with the warm
est friendship. He often recurred to
this period in after life, and Avhen it
became his lot, many years later, to
perform the final act of courtesy, in
pronouncing a eulogy on the decease
of his friend, it was in no feigned or
guarded words that he spoke. Re
strained by "proprieties of the occa
sion," he would not, he said, in the
course of his noble tribute, give utter
ance to the personal feelings Avhich
rose in his heart, in recalling " a sincere,
affectionate and unbroken friendship,
from the day when I commenced my

DANIEL WEBSTER.

179

DAvn" professional career to the closing
hour of his life. I will not say," he
added, "of the advantages which I
have derived froni this intercourse and
conversation, all that Mr. Fox said of
Edmund Burke ; but I am bound to
say, that of my own professional disci
pline and attainments, "whatever; they
may be, I OAve much to ; that close
attention to the discharge of my duties,
Avhich I Avas compelled to pay for nine
successive years, from day to day, by
Mr. Mason's efforts and arguments at
the same bar; and I must have been
unintelligent, indeed, not to have
learned something from the constant
displays of that power, which I had
so much occasion to see and to feel."
Mr. Webster's residence, at Ports
mouth, saw his introduction into public
life. Passing over the usual .prelimi
nary experience of service in the State
legislature, he was at once, in Novem
ber, 1812, elected by the Federal party,
to which he was attached, to the Con
gress of the United States. On taking
his seat, in May, 1813, he was appointed
by the speaker, Henry Clay, on the
important Committee of Foreign Af
fairs. War with England had- just
been declared, and the news of the
repeal of the obnoxious French De
crees and English Orders in Council,
Avhich had so grievously injured the
commerce of the countiy, and deeply
irritated the mind of the nation, had
just come to hand. It was in offering
a resolution, in reference to the Berlin
and Milan Decrees, calling out the
motives of the contest, that -Webster,
early in the session, delivered his
maiden speech. It was listened to,

among others, by Chief Justice Mar
shall, who predicted the .'future impor
tance of the orator, destined, he wroto
to a friend, to become " one of the very
first statesmenrin America, and perhaps
the .very, first." 'No full report of the
'speech r has. been preserved, but suffi
cient bf it is known to justify, the con
clusion of Mr/ Edward Everett, who
sums up its merits, in language, as he
intimates, applicable to the : whole.
course of the orator's subsequent par
liamentary efforts. He speaks of the
" moderation of tone, precision of state
ment, force of reasoning, absence of
ambitious rhetoric and high flown lan
guage, occasional bursts . of true elo
quence, and, pervading the whole, a
genuine and fervid patriotism." When
ever he spoke, these were his character
istics, which at once gained him the
respect of the wisest judgments in the
House, which at that time held an unu
sual number of eminent men.
Though opposed to some of the prom
inent measures of the administration of
Madison, he was not its factious oppo
nent. He was ardent for the mainte
nance of the rights of his country, though
he differed with the party in power as
to the best means of securing them. He ,
thought the force of the nation was
weakened by attempts _at invasion on
the frontiers, and maintained that a
well manned navy was a better defence
for the seaboard than an embargo
which strangled a commerce that other
wise would only be open to assault.
In fine, Webster exhibited thus early
that moderation of statesmanship, which
marked his subsequent course. In the
language of his friend and eulogist

180

DANIEL WEBSTER.

whom we have just cited : " It was not
the least conspicuous Of the strongly
marked qualities of his character as a
public man, that at a time when party
spirit went to great lengths, he never
permitted himself to be infected with
its contagion. His opinions were firmly
maintained and boldly expressed ; but
without bitterness from those who dif
fered from him. He cultivated friendly
relations on both sides of the House,
and gained the personal respect even
of those with whom he most differed."
It is a lesson not to be lost, sight of by
politicians, or any who would serve the
country where its diverse interests are
in hostile array.
Mr. Webster was reelected to Con
gress in 1814, and the Avar being now
ended, entered with zeal into the
measures of reorganization of the mate
rial interests of the countiy. His pro
fession at home, too, was making larger
demands upon his attention, while his
private affairs had suffered by the de
struction of his house and property in
a conflagration at Portsmouth. This,
with the general progress of his for
tunes, determined him upon taking up
his residence in Boston, a measure
which, of course, withdrew him from
his NeAV Hampshire constituency, and
his seat in Congress, while this tempo
rary absence from Washington enabled
him to occupy himself in several im
portant professional cases. Foremost
among them, the first of a series mem
orable in the annals of the bar, was
his final argument before the Supreme
Court, at the seat of government, in
defence of Dartmouth College against
the interference of the State legislature.

His maintenance, on that occasion, of
the inviolability of corporate- rights,
followed by the decision of the Court,
pronounced by Chief Justice Marshall,
established collegiate and other pro
perty on an unassailable foundation.
The fervor of his appeal, as he pro
nounced -this lofty argument for the
college in which he had been educated,
is said to have affected the sensibilities
of his audience — an audience not accus
tomed to much personal agitation.' But
Ave see nothing of this in the severe
Spartan brevity of the legal points of
the argument as preserved in his writ-
ings, though we may well credit it on
the testimony of Mr. George Ticknor
who tells us, "many betrayed strong
emotion, many were dissolved in
tears." This .final hearing of the question
took place in 1818, two years after
Mr. Webster had made his home in.
Boston. It was followed by other
cases of equal professional distinction,
but the great Dartmouth question,
marking his entrance upon the Supreme
Court of the nation, is the great land
mark of his legal career.
In the revision of the constitution
of Massachusetts, in 1820, Mr. Web
ster was chosen one of the delegates
from Boston, and the observation
made by his biographer, Mr. Eve
rett, is worthy of note, that "with
the exception of a few days' ser
vice, two or three years afterward, in
the Massachusetts House of Repre
sentatives, this is the only occasion on
Avhich he ever filled any political office
under the State government, either of
Massachusetts or New Hampshire." He

DANIEL WEBSTER.

181

rose rapidly in laAV and politics to the
highest positions. His speeches in the
ConA'ention on " Qualifications for Of
fice," in which, while maintaining the
sanction of religion, he advocated the
remission of special tests of religious
belief, the " Basis of the Senate," sup
porting a property representation in
the apportionment of electoral districts,
according to their taxation, and the
"Independence of the Judiciary," are
included in his collected works.
It was in this same year, 1820, that
Mr. Webster delivered the first of those
anniversary and occasional discourses,
Avhich, equally Avith his forensic and
political exertions, gave him his great
popular reputation. He had, indeed,
previously delivered various addresses,
but his Plymouth oration, on the first
settlement of New England, gave im
portance to these efforts, and has raised
a department of oratory, in his own
hands and that of others of distin
guished merit, to a high and distinctive
place in the literature of the country.
This discourse was pronounced on the
twenty-second of December, two hun
dred years after the landing of the
Pilgrim Fathers. Opening, as Avas his
wont, with a few dignified general re
flections, looking into the 'philosophy
of common truths applicable to his
subject, he proceeded to present the
cause of emigration, which he found in
religious fervor and love of indepen
dence ; the peculiarities- of the settle
ment as distinguished from other in
stances of colonization, reviewing the
colonies of Greece and Borne, and their
social and military principles, and then
descending to the trading establish
es

ments of modern times; after that,
taking up the retrospect of the century
just ended, with the progress of New
England through the Revolution in
political and civil history, he proceeded
with some observations on the nature
and constitution of government in the
country. The general diffusion of
wealth, with its interests and responsi
bilities, and the provision for educa
tion, he found to be the motive and
safeguard of republican institutions.
He closed vrith an invocation worthy
the best days of ancient oratory.
" Advance then, ye future generations !
We would hail you, as you rise in your
long succession, to fill the places which
we now fill, and to taste the blessings
of existence where we are passing, and
soon shall have passed, our own human
duration. We bid you Avelcome to this
pleasant land of the fathers. We bid
you welcome to the healthful skies and
the verdant fields of New England.
We greet your accession to the great in
heritance which we have enjoyed. We
welcome you to the blessings of good
government and religious liberty. We
welcome you to the treasures of science
and the delights of learning. We
welcome you to the transcendent sweets
of domestic life, to the happiness of
kindred and parents and children. We
welcome you to the immeasurable bles
sings of rational existence, the immor
tal hope of Christianity, and the light
of everlasting truth."
Other passages might be. cited, from
this discourse, in proof of the speaker's
great capacity for oratory. His descrip
tion, near the commencement, of the
day of Marathon, and of the fears and

ii.-

182

DANIEL WEBSTER.

hopes inspired in the breast of the tra
veller, whom he carries back in imagi
nation to the pregnant moments of the
decisive contest, whom he fancies trem
bling for : the destiny of civilization, in
his ovenvhelming anxiety, "as if it were
still uncertain, doubting whether he
may consider Socrates and Plato, De
mosthenes, Sophocles and Phidias, as
secure, yet, to himself and the world."
Still more impressive, perhaps, is his
picture, with its subtle undercurrent of
home application, of Rome childless in
the midst of her colonies, with no son
of hers succeeding when the parent
state should totter and fall. We read
of Rome, but our thoughts are on Eng
land and America. " It was not given
to Rome," is the language of this sub
lime theme, " to . see, either at her ze
nith or in her decline, a child of her
own, distant, indeed, and independent
of her control, yet speaking her lan
guage and inheriting her blood, spring
ing forward to a competition with her
own power, and a comparison with her
own great renown. She saw not a vast
region of the earth peopled from her
stock, full of states and political com
munities,- improving upon the models
of her institutions and breathing in
fuller measure the spirit which she had
breathed in the best periods of her ex
istence ; enjoying and extending her
arts and. her literature ; rising rapidly
from political childhood to manly
strength and independence ; her off
spring, yet now her equal; uncon
nected with the causes which might
affect the duration of her own power
and greatness; of common origin,
but not linked to a common fate;

giving ¦ ample pledge that her name
should not be forgotten, that her
language should not cease to be
used among men ; that whatsoever she
had done for human knowledge and
human happiness should be. treasured
up and preserved ; that the record of
her existence and her achievements
should not be obscured, although, in
the inscrutable purposes of Providence,
it might be her destiny to fall from
opulence and splendor ; although the
time might come when darkness should
settle on all her hills ; when foreign or
domestic violence should overturn her
altars and her temples; when ignor
ance and despotism should fill the
places where laws and arts and liberty
had flourished ; when the feet of bar
barism should trample on the tombs
of her consuls, and the walls of her
Senate-house and Forum echo only to
the voice of savage triumph."
In passages like these, and through
out the orations of Webster, the subor
dination of language to matter will be
noticed ; we have ever the most impor
tant thoughts and impressive utterances
in the plainest words.
Mr. Webster again entered Congress
in 1823, sacrificing, doubtless, large pe
cuniary returns from his profession to
the service of the State* His legal ar
guments were, however, only interrupt
ed, not relinquished ; he found time to
debate in the Capitol, and plead in
the Supreme Court, and certainly no
regret is to be expressed that he lis
tened to. the counsel of friends, and the
more imperative call of his own inter
ests to political life. Commanding
statesmanship was his forte and passion,

DANIEL WEBSTER.

183

and he lived and breathed freely in
the higher atmosphere of government.
The first question which prominently
engaged his attention in the House of
Representatives was the state of Greece,
then engaged in her life struggle with
the Ottoman power. The topic had
been brought before Congress in the
messages of MonrOe, and although lit
tle more was to be done than utter an
eloquent expression of opinion on the
floor of Congress, that little, in Mr.
Webster's utterance, became a voice of
prophecy. His speech on the Revolu
tion in Greece, delivered in January,
1824, was an emphatic declaration of
public law and right between the op
pressor and oppressed, and its declara
tions at this moment, where not over
ridden by insuperable claims of expe
diency are sanctioned by the practice
of the great courts of Europe. Free
governments, it is now getting to be
understood, as the policy of the great
Italian movement'- witnesses, are the
guaranties of prosperous international
intercourse. Despotism, and not free
dom, is now understood to be the dan
gerous incendiary torch, and the prin
ciples of this decision will be found in
the speech of Mr. Webster.
The next year gave him occasion for
another public exercise of his oratory,
in the ceremony of laying the corner
stone of the Bunker Hill Monument.
Lafayette was present at the delivery
of the address, and the accessories in
every way were of the most imposing
character. The orator again seized the
vital elements of his subject. Half a
century had elapsed since the spot had
been consecrated by the blood of its-

defenders. Mr. Webster, after paying
due honor to the military struggle,
turned to - the peaceful triumphs of
government and arts during the period,
in conclusion striking the key note of
his earlier and later efforts in his plea
for harmony and union. " Let our con
ceptions," said he, " be enlarged to the
circle of our duties. Let us extend
our ideas over the whole of the vast
field in which we are called to act.
Let our object be our country, our
whole country, and nothing but our
country." Eighteen years afterward,
on the completion Of the monument,
he was again called upon as the orator
of the day. He had in the meantime
risen to the high position of Secretary
of State ; years and family changes had
made their mark upon his life; but
they had not abated, they had only im
parted a deeper tone to his eloquence.
His review of the elements and pro
gress of colonial life was worthy of the
master historian, and show how well
he would have succeeded in this mode
of composition, had he turned his atten
tion to it. He had eminently an histo
ric mind. Every day events presented
themselves to him in their causes and
consequences with a certain procession
al grandeur. He always looked to
moral influences, and here found them
written legibly in the material granite.
" We wish," he said, in his first oration,
" that this : column, rising toward hea-
ven among the pointed spires of so
many temples dedicated to God, may
contribute also to produce in all minds
a pious feeling of dependence and gra,
titude. We wish that the last object
to the sight of him who leaves his na-

.184

DANIEL WEBSTER.

five shore, and the first to gladden his
Avho revisits it, may be something
which shall remind him of. the liberty
and the glory of his country. Let it
rise ! let it rise till it meet the sun in
his coming ; let the earliest light of the
morning gild it, and parting day linger
and play on its summit." In the same
spirit in his second discourse he says :
" The powerful shaft stands motionless
before us. It is a plain shaft. It bears
no inscriptions, fronting to the rising
sun, from which the future antiquary
shall wipe the dust. Nor does the ris
ing sun cause tones of music to issue
from its summit. But at the rising of
the sun and at the setting of the sun,
in the blaze of noonday and beneath
the milder effulgence of lunar light, it
looks, it speaks, it acts to the full com
prehension of every American mind
and the awakening of glowing enthu
siasm in every American heart."
A eulogy on Adams and Jefferson,
pronounced in Faneuil Hall in August,
1826, wTas the next of those popular
discourses delivered by Mr. Webster,
ranking with his Plymouth and Bun
ker Hill orations. The simultaneous
death of these two great fathers of the
state, on the preceding fourth of July,
had deeply affected the mind of the
countiy, and expectation was fully alive
to the charmed words of the orator.
In the course of this address occurs the
description of eloquence often cited,
commencing, "true eloquence, indeed,
does not consist in speech," and ending
with the idea of Demosthenes, " in ac
tion, noble, sublime, godlike action."
Here, too, occurs the famous feigned
oration so familiar in the recitations of

schoolboys, put into the mouth of Ad
ams — words Avritten Avith the emphasis
and felicity of Patrick Henry — " Sink
or swim, live or die, survive 01 perish,
I give my hand and my heart to this
vote. ... It is my living sentiment,
and by the blessing of God it shall be
my dying sentiment, Independence noAV
and Independence forever."
Mr. Webster had been continued, by
new elections, in the House of Repre
sentatives — in some of them his vote
was almost unanimous — when, in 1827,
he was elected to the Senate of the
United States. It was while on the
journey to the Capitol to take his seat,
at the close of the year, that his wife
became so ill that he Avas compelled to
leave her under medical treatment in
New York. He speedily rejoined her,
and in the month of January she
breathed her. last. Those who knew
her well have recorded her virtues.
She was of great amiability. Judge
Story wrote of her " warm and elevat
ed affections, her constancy, purity and
piety, her noble disinterestedness and
excellent sense," while a feminine hand,
Mrs. Lee, has recalled similar traits of
character. At the time of this calam
ity her husband was forty-six. He had
many honors yet to reap, but youth
and early manhood, with their fresh
hopes, and incentives, did not cross that
grave. It was not long after, in the
spring of 1829, that he Avas called to
suffer another sorroAV in the sudden
death of his brother Ezekiel, Avho fell
in full court at Concord, even while he
was standing erect, engaged in speak
ing — stricken down in an instant by
disease of the heart. " Coming so

DANIEL WEBSTER.

185

soon after another awful stroke," he
wrote to a friend, " it seems to fall
with double wreight. He has been my
reliance through life, and I have de
rived much of its happiness from his
fraternal affection."
His 'public duties were before him,
and to them he turned. In the Senate,
at the close of this year, 1829, com
menced that celebrated debate on Mr.
Foot's resolution on. the sale of the
public lands, which led to the passage
at arms between Robert Y. Hayne, the
senator from South Carolina, and Mr.
Webster, who was looked up to as the
champion of New England. The ques
tion involved a matter of delicacy
between the: two parties of- the coun
try— ^Jackson had then recently ousted
Adams in the Presidency — in their re
lations to the West. Mr. Foot was
from Connecticut, and the supporters
of the Administration endeavored to
set' New England in an unfriendly at
titude to the emigration to the' new
States. Mr. Hayne, a young man of
brilliant talents, rapid and effective in
onset, took part in the debate, and bore
with severity upon New England, and
personally upon Mr. Webster. There
Avere two speeches on each side by
the rival orators. The second by Mr.
Webster is usually considered his
greatest parliamentary oration. There
were three objects,, says Mr. Everett,
to accomplish in this answer. Person
alities were to be repelled, the New
England States vindicated, and the
character of the government as a poli
tical system maintained against theories
of nullification. The speech was de-
livered on the 26th and 27th of Janu

ary. As published in the author's
works, it occupies seventy-two large,
solidly printed octavo pages, yet it is
said to have been listened to with un
broken interest. " The variety of in
cident," we are told, " and the rapid fluc
tuation of the passions, kept the audi
ence in continual expectation and cease
less agitation* There was no chord of
the heart the orator did not strike as
with a master hand. The speech was
a complete drama of comic and pathetic
scenes ; one varied excitement — laugh
ter and tears gaining alternate vic
tory." The account is Avell support
ed by intelligent eye-witnesses, but
the calm, unimpassioned reader must
not look for all these emotions in
his perusal of the printed pages. He
must remember how much depend
ed upon the occasion, the studiously
aroused parliamentary crisis, the rising
agitation between the North and the
South, and above all, the personal em
phasis of the speakers. Hayne's tal
ents Avere of no common order ; he
Avas ingenious, inventive, full of mat
ter, copious in language, easy and im
pressive in action. Mr. Webster,
though some years his senior, was in
the prime of life, Avith all that interest
attaching to his appearance, his raven
hair, dark, deeply set eyes, olive com
plexion, and general force and compact
ness which no physical weakness of his
later days ever wholly deprived him
of. Even his dress was carefully se
lected. He appeared in the blue coat
and buff vest, the costume of the Rev
olution — an apparel often Avorn by him
on subsequent oratorical occasions. He
stood forth as a representative man: a

186

DANIEL WEBSTER.

pledged combatant in the. arena ; and
he was every way equal to the occa
sion. Stripped of what was acciden
tal, enough remains in his speech to
secure admiration. Its best remem
bered passages will always be its enco
mium of Massachusetts, and its closing
appeal, as the orator shrinks from " the
dark recess," and shudders at " the pre
cipice of disunion." Rising grandly
to imagery truly Miltonic, he exclaimed,
" While the Union lasts we have high,
exciting, gratifying prospects spread
out before us, for us and our children.
Beyond that I' seek not to penetrate
the veil. God grant that in my day,
at least, that curtain may not rise !
God grant that on my vision never may
be opened what lies behind ! When
my eyes shall be turned to behold for
the last time the sun in heaven, may I
not see him shining on the broken and
dishonored fragments of a once glori
ous Union; on States dissevered, dis
cordant, belligerent ; on a land rent
with civil feuds, or drenched, it may
be, in fraternal blood. Let their last
feeble and lingering glance rather be
hold the gorgeous ensign of the repub
lic, now known and honored through
out the earth, still full high advanced,
its arms and trophies streaming in
their original lustre, not a stripe erased
or polluted, or a single star obscured,
bearing for its motto no such miserable
interrogatory as ' What is all this
worth ?' nor those other words of delu
sion and folly, ' Liberty first and Union
afterwards ;' but everywhere, spread all
over in characters of living light, blaz
ing on all its ample folds, as they float
0Arer the sea and over the land, and in

every Avind under the whole heavenf
that other sentiment, dear to every true
American heart, Liberty and Union,
now and forever^ one and insepar
able." When the progress of the nullifica
tion doctrine in South Carolina brought
matters to a crisis with the government,
Mr. Webster was again called upon to
elucidate the constitutional history of
the country in answer to the arguments
of Mr. Calhoun. It was at the season
of President Jackson's Proclamation,
a moment of intense public excite
ment. A second time the New Eng
land orator Avas placed in a conspicu
ous position to assert a great national
principle, and how Avell he maintained
it let the voice of Madison, the father
of the Constitution, answer. In ac
cepting a copy of the speech, the ven
erable sage wrote from Montpellier,
"Your late very powerful speech
crushed ' nullification ' and must has
ten an abandonment of ' secession.' "
This support of the cause of the Presi
dent placed the orator high in the re
gards of the administration, and Ave
have seen it intimated that overtures
of a seat in the Cabinet were made
him. There was good reason for this
cordiality of feeling toward one who
supplied the argument by his previous
speeches for the noted Proclamation ;
but the course of Congressional life
soon brought the parties at variance
The President's action towards the
Bank of the United States called forth
various speeches from Mr. Webster,
who stood opposed to what he consi
dered an assumption of" power, by
that high officer, not conferred by the

DANIEL WEBSTER

187

Constitution. The orator's arguments
on this head were fully presented in
his reply in the Senate to the Presiden
tial ' protest,' objecting to the censure
which had been passed, and fully set
ting forth the pretensions of the Gov
ernment. As an incidental ornament
to his discourse, Mr. Webster in this
speech introduced that allusion to Eng
land, the extent of her power and au
thority, which has become in all lati
tudes " familiar as a household word."
He is urging the necessity of sustain
ing a ' principle, and appeals to the
course of our Revolutionary fathers.
" On this question of principle," said
he, " while actual suffering was yet afar
off, they raised their flag against a
power to which, for purposes of foreign
conquest and subjugation, Rome, in the
height of her glory, is not to be com
pared ; a power which has dotted over
the surface of the whole globe with
her possessions and military posts,
whose morning drum-beat, following
the sun and keeping company with the
hours, circles the earth with one conti
nuous and unbroken strain of the mar
tial airs of England."
The next event which calls for notice
in this account of Mr. Webster's career,
is his Adsit to England in the spring of
1839. He Avas not long absent, but
had the best opportunities of observa
tion in the welcome he received in the
highest quarters. His journey was ex
tended to Scotland and France. He
Avas always fond of agriculture, and
the model farming of Great Britain
had much of his attention. He spoke
on this subject at the celebration at
Oxford.

On his return he became deeply en
gaged in the political campaign which
resulted in the election of General Har
rison to the Presidency as the successor
of Van Buren, and in rektrn for his
services was appointed Secretary of
State in the new administration. He
found, in the discharge of the duties
of this office, many important questions
waiting for adjustment, and it was his
good fortune to conduct the nation
Avith honor through the vexed bounda
ry questions Avith England, which, at
one time, seemed seriously to threaten
hostilities. There Avere other matters
of weight with foreign nations Avhich
he was called upon to negotiate, which
are amply illustrated in his published
diplomatic correspondence. Mr. Web
ster continued in office about tAvo years
under President Tyler, deferring party
considerations to the public welfare in
his negotiations. When these were
happily adjusted he resigned. An in
terval of leisure from affairs of state
was divided between his engagements
in the services of his whig party and
the demands of his profession. In
1845 he is again in the Senate, and had
occasion to oppose the Mexican war
which he disliked in its inception,
though he patriotically voted supplies
to the army. A journey to South Ca
rolina two years later, proved the hold.
he had upon the popular sympathy and
intelligence. It Avas looked upon as a
step to the Presidency. He had long
served his party, and was entitled to
its rewards. Expediency, hoAvever,
fatal to so many servants of the public,
came in the way, and General Taylor,
the popular hero of the war, was jue

188

DANIEL WEBSTER.

ferred before him. On the early suc
cession of Vice-President Fillmore to
the office, Mr. Webster again became
Secretary of State in 1850, and held
the position to his death. A neAV Pre
sidential election afforded his party
one more opportunity of rewarding
him by a nomination, but it was given
to General Scott, and the old political
hero, with a sigh at the ingratitude of
party, continued to discharge the du
ties of his office to the last. The re
lease was- not long in coming. It came
to him in the autumn of 1852, at his
retirement at Marshfield, where some
of the happiest hours of his later life
had been spent in the enjoyment of the
pursuits of agriculture, the refresh
ments of rural life, and the intimacy
of his family and chosen friends. He
died on the morning of Sunday, the
24th October, 1852.
Of the impression made upon the
whole community by that event, it
Avill be difficult to convey an adequate
idea to another generation. During
the later years of his life, Mr. Webster
was much before the public. His
voice had been heard in our large
cities, and in many of the rural parts
of the land, counselling in politics
and national affairs ; there was scarcely
a liberal interest in Avhich he had not
taken part, in local and historical
gatherings, agricultural meetings, open
ings of railroads, anniversaries of his
torical societies. Spite of the subtle
inroads of disease, age sat lightly upon
him, and the Avear and tear of three
score years and upAvards had not done
their frequent disheartening work, in
impairing the energy of his mind. Its

springs were as yet unbroken ; assured
position, and the ease of doing readily
what he had done so often, perhaps
gave greater pliancy to his movements.
All that he said was uttered with point
and energy, and his powers were with
him to the end. He had lived in the
company of great thoughts and great
ideas, and their solace was not denied
him, when the spirit, on the eve of its
parting flight, most needed refreshment.
The first voice from his dying chamber
to the public was communicated, in
terms singularly worthy of the occa
sion, by a friend, Professor Felton, of
Harvard. "Solemn thoughts," Avas the
language of this startling bulletin,
which appeared in the "Boston Cou
rier," of October 20, only four days
before the final event, " exclude from
his mind the inferior topics of the fleet
ing hour; and the great and aAvful
themes of the future noAV seemingly
opening before him — themes to which
his mind has always and instinctively
turned its profoundest meditations,
now fill the hours won from the Aveary
lassitude of sickness, or from the public
dutieSj Avhich sickness and retirement
cannot make him forget or neglect.
The eloquent speculations of Cicero on
the immortality of the soul, and the
admirable arguments against the Epi
curean philosophy, put into the mouth
of one of the colloquists in the book of
Nature of the Gods, share his thoughts
with the sure testimony of the Word
of God." Many anecdotes are recorded
of those last hours. It is fondly rem em-
bered, at Marshfield, hoAV he caused his
favorite cattle to be driven by his Avin-
doAV when too feeble to leave his room

DANIEL WEBSTER.

189

— and among the traditions of that
dying chamber, are treasured his affec
tion for his friend, Peter Harvey, and
others with him, and the gentle conso
lation of some stanzas, which he had
recited to him from that mournful
t requiem, the sad cadence of human life,
the undying Elegy of the poet Gray
Conscious to the very end, he calmly
Avatched the process of dissolution, and
the last syllables he listened to were
the sublime Avords of the Psalmist,
" Though I walk through the valley of
the • shadow of death, I will fear no
evil, for thou art with me; Thy rod
and thy staff they comfort me." His
last words were, " I still live." By his
own directions, his remains were en
tombed by the side of his first wife,
and the children of his early days, in
the old family burying ground on his
estate, at Marshfield. His grave bears
his name, and the text selected by him
self, "Lord, 1 believe, help thou my
unbelief." We should far transcend the limited
space at our command, were we to
attempt to notice the many tributes to
the memory of Daniel Webster. The
press, the pulpit, the bar, colleges,
senates, . cities, had their commemora
tions, and poured forth their eulogies.
With the exception of Washington
and Franklin, more, perhaps, of a per
sonal character has been written about
Webster, than of any of our public
men. His life had been passed in the

eye of the people, and a certain pub
licity naturally followed all that he
said or did. In his strength and in hi.
weakness, in all the minutiae of his
daily life, ho was well known. All
men who live much before the public,
are necessarily something of actors,
we all act our parts ; he Avas constantly
presenting his best. There was a cer
tain greatness, as we have remarked,
natural to the man, spite of his fail
ings. His ordinary conversation had
an air of grandeur. His look was full
of dignity. His plain speech in his
orations, in which simple strong Saxon
greatly abounds, was an index of his
matter and prevailing moods. He
sought no effects Avhich did not spring
from the truthfulness of his subject
Rhetoric was his forte, but he used k
sparingly in illustration of the sobei
groundwork of 'reason. In the happy
phrase of his friend, Mr. Hillard, his
eloquence was "the lightning of pas
sion running along the iron links of
argument." The full value and signifi
cance of his political career, with, that
of his great brethren in the Senate,
remains yet to be adjusted in history,
but his friends may fearlessly leave the
apportionment of fame to posterity.
But whatever the rank of Webster
may hereafter be with the historian,
the biographer Avill never lack materia]
for a story of elevating interest in the
narrative of his lifeT from the cradle to
the grave.

n— 24

THOMAS HART BENTON.

Of the class of working politicians
of tie country, the many men em
ployed in the organization of party
and the practical business of legisla
tion, few have so risen above the rank
of their fellows as the late Senator
Benton. It is the fortune of these per
sons to occupy a large share of the
public attention without being greatly
distinguished ; they are much oftener
seen and heard than the limited set
of people above them, the originators
of their conceptions, the Clays, Cal-
houns, Websters, if the country is
happy enough to possess such : to
these fame is given, but the others
must be contented with gratitude.
Mr. Benton was through a long career
a highly useful politician and in many
things a representative ; but it Avas
only in the later portion of his career
that the interest began to attach to
him which is centered upon a great
statesman. The illustrious triumvirate
whose names we have mentioned may
have thrown his merits into the shade ;
but Ave' suspect that his worth grew
with time, and that no man was more
indebted to experience. " A progres
sive improvement in his oratory," says
a writer in the opening number of the
"Democratic Review," in 1837, "has
been very evident Avithin the last feAV

100

years, his taste being purified from
some bad habits of style, by Avhich it
was formerly" disfigured. He may be
said literally, according to the well
known maxim of Cicero, to have made
himself an orator, having, had to strug
gle against the apparently natural dis
advantage of an incorrect and false
taste. We have heard the remark
made by one of his friends, that his
best speech will not be delivered for
ten years yet to come." The estimate
was well taken, and the prediction, we
believe, was fulfilled to the letter, as
his speeches grew in force and interest
to the last.
Thomas Hart Benton Avas born in
the State of North Carolina, near Hills
borough, in Orange County, March 14,
1782. His ancestors are spoken of
with respect for their services in the
Revolution when that portion of the
country became the theatre of war;
and the family of his mother, who bore
the name of Hart, in particular has the
distinction of taking part in the first
venturous settlement of the region to
the westward, with which the subject
of our notice Avas to become so promi
nently identified. His father died
when he Avas eight years old, but how
far his early development Avas affected
by the event we are not informed.

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THOMAS nART BENTON.

19]

The article in Appleton's Cyclopaedia,
which, though brief, is the fullest ac
count we have met with of the life of
Benton, speaks of his education as im
perfect, while we are told that ho was
for some time at a grammar school, and
aftenvards at the University at Chapel
Hill. He was not, however, a gradu
ate of the institution, in consequence
of the removal of his mother to Ten
nessee, to settle on a tract of land be
longing to his father's estate. In this
neAv home he studied law, and rose
rapidly in the profession. He was
elected to the legislature, where he
served only a single term, during
which,' continues our authority, "he
procured the passage Of a law reform
ing the judicial system, and of another
giving to slaves the benefit of a jury
trial, the same as Avhite men."
At this time, too, he became intimate
with Andrew Jackson, who had been
raised to the bench of the Supreme
Court of the State, and was Major Ge
neral of the State militia. Benton, at
tracted by the bold, frank, engaging
nature of the man, and further secured
in his allegiance by various acts of sym
pathy and kindness on the part of one
who might well stand, in his superior
position, in the rank of patron to the
youthful neAV-comer to the State, had
been appointed one of his aids, and
rendered important service to him in
getting the Tennessee volunteers into
the field at the outset of the great
chieftain's military history. When
this force was first organized, Benton
Avas with it, holding the rank of colo
nel, a designation by which he Avas
subsequently known through the wdiole

course of his public career. They Avere
destined to be devoted friends in many
a future arduous political struggle as
they had started in life in close inti
macy ; but this friendship was first to
suffer an extraordinary interruption.
The " feud with the Bentons " supplies
the subject of one of the most striking
chapters of Mr. Parton's biography of
the hero of New Orleans ; and to that
biography the story of it properly be
longs, since Jackson Avas both the ag
gressor and the chief sufferer. It is
sufficient here to allude to it as a brutal
rencontre, growing out of a ridiculous
duel, in which, Avhile Benton was away
negotiating for the payment of the
Tennessee troops at Washington, to
relieve his friend from pecuniary res
ponsibility, Jackson had borne the pari,
of second to the antagonist of his bro
ther, Jesse Benton. The case appears
to have been exaggerated and misrep
resented to Colonel Benton, who re
turned to Nashville denouncing hh,
former friend in the bitterest terms
Jackson was hurt and annoyed, and
determined to inflict personal chastise
ment upon Colonel Benton, and Avas
about attempting to put his resolve in
execution in the doorway of a hotel in
Nashville, when his movements were
arrested by a shot from Jesse Benton,
which took effect in his shoulder and
prostrated him on the instant. Colo
nel Benton, who had a temperament,
when roused, hardly inferior to that of
"Old Hickory," blustered and de
nounced, and broke the sword of his
antagonist in the public square. The
bitterest hate, not unnaturally, sprung
up between the friends of Jack

192

THOMAb HART BENTON.

son, Avho lay weltering in his blood,
and the infuriate young lawyer." In a
letter Avritten by the latter, cited by
Mr. Parton, he says, " I am literally in
hell here ; the meanest wretches under
heaven to contend with — liars, affidavit
makers and shameless cowards. ...
The scalping-knife of Tecumsey is
mercy compared Avith the affidavits of
these villains. I am in the middle of
hell, and see no alleviation but to kill
or be killed ; for I Avill not crouch to
Jackson, and the fact that I* and my
brother defeated him and his tribe, and
broke his small sword in the public
square, will forever rankle in his bosom
and make him thirst after vengeance."
The two friends, thus summarily con
verted, by their reckless conduct, into
the deadliest foes, did not meet again
for ten years, Avhen they found them
selves together, fellow members on the
floor of the United States Senate.
Meanwhile Colonel Benton, in this
September, 1813, Avhen the unhappy
scenes we have just alluded to occurred,
returned to his residence in Franklin,
Tennessee, to receive shortly after the
appointment of lieutenant colonel in
the regular army. The war, however,
was now approaching its end, and he
had no opportunity of active service.
He consequently, when peace was de
clared, resigned his commission, and
removing to Missouri, established him-
aelf in this seat of his future political
authority at St. Louis. He engaged in
the practice of the' law, and an apti
tude for political life introduced him to
the editorship of a newspaper, the
" Missouri Inquirer." The course of
politics in this new occupation proved

scarcely smoother to him than th«
rough life that he had abandoned in
Tennessee. He engaged, we are told,
in frequent disputes, accompanied by
various duels, in one of which he killed
his opponent,' Mr. Lucas, " an event he
deeply deplored, and all the private
papers relating to Avhich he destroyed."
It was the period of the memorable
struggle for the admission of Missouri
into the Union, in the discussion of
which he bore a part, and as a defender
of the Territory, supported its slavery
constitution. On the conclusion of the
protracted controversy he took his seat
in the United States Senate as one of
the first representatives of the new
State. Thenceforth for thirty years he con
tinued to hold that responsible posi
tion, strengthening himself yearly by
his studies and growing intimacy with
Congressional life and friendships with
many of the most eminent men of the
country, till he rose to be one of the
most active and influential members of
that body. The record of the period
which he published in the last year of
his life, entitled " Thirty Years' VieAV ;
or, a History of the Working of the
American Government for Thirty Years,
from 1820 to 1850," exhibits his course
on eA'Ciy leading political question
which arose during that important era.
It contains his speeches— :those which he
thought best worth preseiwing — and
various honorable tributes to the public
men with whom he was associated, and
glowing personal notices of his friends.
Nothing is more pleasing in these remi
niscences than his expressions of grati
tude to those by whom he patterned

THOMAS HART BENTON

193

himself, from whom he took counsel
and received encouragement ' at the be
ginning of his career. In his noble
eulogy of Nathaniel Macon, of North
Carolina, he says, "I have a pleasure
in recalling the recollections of this
wise, just and good man, and in writing
them down, not without profit, I hope,
to rising generations. Mr. Macon Avas
the real Cincinnatus of America, the
pride and ornament of my native State,
my hereditary friend through four gen
erations, my mentor in the first seven
years of my senatorial, and the last
seATen of his senatorial life ; and a feel
ing of, gratitude and of filial affection
mingles itself with this discharge of
historical duty to his memory." Again,
writing of the retirement of Rufus
King, he says, " I felt it to be a privi
lege to serve in the Senate with three
such senators as Mr. King, Mr. Macon,
and -John Taylor of Carolina, and Avas
anxious to improve Such an opportunity
into the means of benefit to myself.
With Mr. King it required a little sys
tem of advances on my part, Avhich I
had time to make, and which the urba
nity of his manners rendered easy He
became kind to me ; readily supplied
me with information from his own vast
stores, allowed me to consult him, and
assisted me in the business of the State,
of whose admission he had been the
great opponent, whenever I could sat
isfy him that I Avas right." More than
all this, Mentor counselled and Tele-
machus took in good part a suggestion
which might have ruffled a less really
sensible recipient. He advised him of
a defect growing out of his tempera
ment when heated by opposition, of his

taking " Under these circumstances an
authoritative . manner, and a look and
tone of defiance, which sat ill upon the
older members," advising him " to mo
derate his manner." True ability ear-
always be estimated by its capacity of
receiving instruction, come from what
quarter it may, and Benton's teachable
disposition enabled him gradually to
become one of the smoothest, most ele
gant, equable speakers in the Senate.
His course at first, as indeed it was
the great cause of his life ever after
wards, was identified Avith the inter
ests of the West. The reduction of
the price of lands to emigrants, the
preemption rights of actual settlers,
the maintenance of the vast territorial
limits, the improvement of means of
communication to the Pacific were
favorite objects for which he toiled and
labored ; and, partaking as they do of
living practical interests will be remem
bered in his favor when many of the
noisy debates of his senatorial career,
upon which the public hung eagerly at
the time, shall be forgotten. He tells
us that the first seed of that passion
for opening Channels of trade across
the continent, and thence to the great
Eastern marts of the old world, to
which so much of the time of his later
years was devoted, was sown in his
mind by " the philosophic hand of Mr.
Jefferson," who, even before Lewis and
Clark had traversed the western terri
tory at his instigation, had directed
Ledyard to this promising scene of ex
ploration. In 1 8 2 4 Benton brought in a
bill for opening a road into New Mex
ico, partly traced through foreign terri-
tory, to facilitate the rising commerce

194

THOMAS HART BENTON.

with that region. His lucid explana-
tions of its value, assisted by prece
dents of the authoritative administra
tion of Jefferson, whom he consulted
on the subject at Monticello, secured
its passage, and the road, he wrote
thirty years afterward, when the politi
cal and commercial character of the
countiy in question had undergone.
such important changes, " has remained
a thoroughfare of commerce between
Missouri and New Mexico, and all the
Avestern internal provinces ever since."
From that day to the time of his death
he was active in all that related to new
channels of western communication ;
his exertions receiving a fresh impulse
in the successive explorations and dis
coveries, which he greatly promoted,
of his son-in-law, Colonel Fremont.
His advocacy of a central line of rail
way communication extending directly
westward from Missouri by the passes
surveyed by Fremont, was plied not
only by his writings, but by various
public oratorical statements in leading
Atlantic cities.
The most important political phases
of what we may call the middle
career of Colonel Benton's senato
rial life, that portion which embraces
the Presidencies of Jackson and Van
Buren, are presented in connection
with questions of banking and the cur
rency. His support of Jackson in his
warfare against the United States Bank
was constant and unwearied, and raised
him to the rank of a debater of the
first class. The old " feud " which had
separated the two men, violent as it
was, with its . horrid accessories, was
Celt to be accidental, and they greAV to

gether in a mutual respect and cordial
ity of feeling, Avhich lasted to the
dying moments of the General at the
Hermitage, and has been fondly perpe
tuated in the writings of the survivor.
One signal service, dear to the heart of
the old chieftain, probably nobody but
Benton would have had the zeal and
perseverance to carry out. We allude
to the famous "Expunging Resolution"
passed in 1837, removing from the
record of the Senate its resolution of
1834, condemnatory of the President's
course on the removal of the deposits.
For three years he battled this question
in the Senate ; announcing his inten
tion, at the very outset, immediately
on the censure being taken, to removt
the hated sentence from the journal .
reviving his declaration from time to
time ; taking every opportunity of as
sailing the obnoxious resolve. Like
old Cato, of Rome, who ended every
speech with the expression, " I am also
of opinion that Carthage should be
blotted out," Benton never forgot his
Expunging Resolution. He folloAved it
up with every resource of historical,
parliamentary and constitutional argu
ment, and Avhen argument was at an
end, his strong words of condemnation
and remonstrance were neArer wanting.
" Let this resolution for the condemna
tion of General Jackson," said he in
1835, the year after its passage, "be ex
punged from the journal of the Senate
Let it be effaced, erased, blotted out,
obliterated from the face of that page
on which it never should have been
written. Would to God it could be
expunged from the page of all history,
and firm the memory of all mankind !"

THOMAS HART BENTON.

19.e

At length his hour of triumph came.
The democratic vote in the Senate had
been increased by the new elections,
and in the last session of Jackson's ad
ministration was sufficiently strength
ened to carry the measure. The reso
lution of censure had been originally
adopted by a vote of tAventy-six to
twenty ; it was cancelled by a vote of
twenty-four to nineteen. With this
majority at command, Benton proudly
approached the consummation of the
act upon which he had set all his pow
ers of mind and will. Bising from tech
nical Congressional argument to a vin
dication of the great measures of
Jackson's administration, he closed
his third great speech on the subject
with the memorable sentence which
has passed into the political vocabu
lary — " And noAV, sir, I finish the task
which, three years ago, I imposed on
myself. Solitary and alone, and amidst
the jeers and taunts of my opponents,
I put this ball in motion. The people
have taken it up, and rolled it forward,
and I am no longer anything but a
unit in the vast mass which now pro
pels it."
In his "Thirty Years' View," Ben
ton has dwelt upon the closing act
which was arranged for the sixteenth
of January His forces were well
drilled for the final vote, and that there
might be no disappointment in their
meeting it, he caused unusual prepara
tions to be made for holding the mem
bers together during the protracted
night .sitting, for it was intended that
there should be no adjournment after
the resolution was called until it was
passed, and it was known that it would

not pass without comment from tlie
great orators who had always defended
the original act. " Knowing," he
writes, " the difficulty of keeping men
steady to their work, and in good hu
mor, when tired and hungry, the mover
of the proceeding took care to provide,
as far as possible, against such a state
of things ; and gave orders that .night
to have an ample supply of cold hams,
turkeys, rounds of beef, pickles, wines
and cups of hot coffee, ready in a cer
tain committee-room near the Senate
Chamber by four o'clock in the after
noon." The debate was opened and
wore on through the day Avith long
speeches from, the whigs, Avho were
bent on delay, with the hope that in
some way .the measure would miscarry.
Night came on, the supper room was
in operation with its powerful rein
forcement of the animal spirits of the
combatants, who resorted to it in small
detachments, as they could be spared.
In the words of the arch conspirator
himself, " it became evident to the
great opposition leaders that the inevit
able hour had come : that the damna
ble deed was to be done that night,
and that the dignity of silence was no
longer to them a tenable position."
Thus driven to the wall, Calhoun ad
vanced and began by denouncing the
proposed measure as a violation of the
Constitution, which required the jour
nals to be " kept," and not to be de
stroyed. If one sentence, why not the
whole ? He then combated the act as
an expression of the will of the people,
referring it to " a combination of pat
ronage and power." Finally, admitting
the toils by which he was surrounded.

196

THOMAS HART BENTON.

he expressed his abhorrence of the dic
tation, which he compared with the
coercion of the Roman Senate in the
days of imperial despotism. Henry
Clay, the mover of the original reso
lution, also spoke, ending with an
eloquent lament over the violated
rights of the Senate. "The deed,"
said he, "is to be done — that foul
deed which, like the blood-stained
hands of the guilty Macbeth, all
ocean's waters will never wash out."
Webster followed, as the vote was
about being taken, more moderate in
language, but with a lofty feeling of
pride, if not of contempt, as he con
templated what he thought an. idle
desecration. " We collect ourselves, to
look on," he said, " in silence, while a
scene is exhibited which, if we did not
regard it as a ruthless violation of a
sacred instrument, would appear to us
to be little elevated above the charac
ter of a contemptible farce." The vote
was then taken, the result announced,
and the secretary ordered to execute
its intent. He accordingly introduced
the original manuscript, and, agreeably
to instructions which had been arranged
beforehand, proceeded to surround the
sentence with a square of black lines,
and to write across its face the words,
"Expunged by order of the Senate."
In the conclusion of the narrative, Ben
ton takes some credit to himself for
his firmness in checking " a storm of
hisses, groans and vociferations," which
arose over his head in the gallery
We have traced this proceeding
with some particularity, as well because
it was one which, perhaps more than
any other, up to that time, made Ben

ton widely known to the public, as for
its illustration of the inveterate per
sistency of the man. Capable of en
durance, in the enjoyment of robust
health, and a stout physical frame, he
possessed a strength of will which no
labor could weary or force of opposi
tion overcome. He was a diligent stu
dent, well read in the subjects which
he discussed, and thoroughly trained
as an orator in their disposition and
use. His friendship for Jackson was a
passion. Probably the Senate will
never again witness such an instance
of personal devotion as Benton exhi
bited in the patient tenacity and con
quering fidelity of his Expunging Re
solution. The passage of the bill for equaliz-j
ing the value of gold and silver, ancf
legalizing the tender of foreign coin of
both metals, which brought about a
revival of the gold currency, Avas one
of the measures connected with the
bank agitation which was urged by
Colonel Benton with his customary
research and ability and a full share of
his usual pertinacity. His persistence
in the cry for gold is still remembered
in the popular designation given to
him of "Old Bullion." In the crisis
which followed the bank embarrass
ments in 1837, he shared, with Jackson
and Van Buren, the popular compli
ments of the copper political cent coun
ters or tokens bearing such inscriptions
as "I take the responsibility," "The
Constitution as I understand it," " Ben
tonian currency," "Mint drop.". The
Colonel himself pleasantly alludes to
some of these demonstrations in his
" Thirty Years' View where he speaks

THOMAS HART BENTON.

197

of the matter. " Gold," he says, as a
first fruit of the bill, " began to flow
into the country through all the chan
nels of commerce : old chests gave up
their hoards : the mint Avas busy, and
in a few months, and as if by magic, a
currency banished from the country for
thirty years overspread the land and
gave joy and confidence to all the pur
suits of industry." This was one side
of the picture : on the other was an
outcry, which he' attributes to the Bank
influence, of officious persons alarming
the ignorant with gilt counters and
counterfeits, while the coin itself " Avas
burlesqued in mock imitations of brass
or copper, with grotesque figures and
ludicrous inscriptions — the ' Avhole
hog,' and the ' better currency,' being
the favorite devices. Many newspa
pers expended their Avit in its State
depreciation. The most, exalted of the
paper money party Avould recoil a step
when it was offered to them, and beg
for paper. The name of ' gold hum
bug' was fastened upon the person
supposed to have been chiefly instru
mental in bringing the derided coin
into existence; and he, not to be
abashed, made its eulogy a standing
theme — vaunting its excellence, boast
ing its coming abundance, to spread
over the land, flow up the Mississippi,
thence through the interstices of the
long silken purse, and to be locked up
safely in the farmer's trusty oaken
chest." In the last sentence the orator
repeats some of those glowing expres
sions Avhich were bandied about at the
time by political editors with the fre
quency of watchwords. He was not
at all the man to be disheartened by
n.— 25

caricature ; on the contrary, he ay as
likely to accept it as an indication of
popularity ; for no one thinks it worth
Avhile to travesty a thing in Avhich thp
public takes no interest.
It would be of little value here to
attempt to trace minutely the future
political course of Colonel Benton,
which must be studied by those who
would understand the matter, in his
numerous speeches and those of his
contemporaries in the political history
of his times. It may be enough gene
rally to state 'that he defended the
financial measures of Mr. Van Buren's
administration in his advocacy of the
Sub-Treasury; that he bore a distin
guished part in the discussion of the
Oregon boundary question,, taking the
moderate ground which Avas finally
adopted ; that he was much looked to
by President Polk in the conduct of
the Mexican war, Avhen it was pro
posed to confer upon him the rank of
lieutenant general, that he might have
control of the entire military move
ment; and that in the subsequent
slavery agitation he stood opposed to
the southern views of Mr. Calhoun,
which were brought into the politics
of his own State of Missouri. A con
tested election in 1850, in Avhich he
himself took the field with his accus
tomed ardor, delivering a series of
speeches which attracted great atten
tion by their force and spirit, ended in
his defeat and withdrawal from the
Senate. After two years' absence he
was returned to Congress in 1852,
when he again brought himself into
the heat of the political conflict by his
course on the Kansas-Nebraska bill, to

1.98

THOMAS HART BENTON.

Avhich, as a maintainer of the Missouri
Compromise, he was resolutely opposed.
It Avas his fate in Missouri to be over
thrown by coalitions. The whigs,
uniting with his enemies, had thrown
him out of the Senate ; the American
party now deprived him of reelection
in the House. In 1856 he Avas once
more a candidate for office as governor
of Missouri, and again his presence was
felt throughout the State and country
in his speeches in the canvass; but
party divisions, as before, told against
him, and he Avas a third time defeated.
In the Presidential election of the
same year he exhibited his personal
independence . in his adherence to
the fortunes of Mr. Buchanan in pre
ference to those of his son-in-law,
Fremont. This rough spirit of inde
pendence Avhich he exhibited, gained
him the regard of the community
outside the circle of his own par
tisans, and it was felt that few more
formidable political antagonists existed
than " Old' Bullion." He knew inti
mately all the arts and devices of poli
tics, and the strength and weakness of
political candidates ; his memory Avas
extraordinary; his zeal, when it Avas
enlisted, was unbounded, and his com
mand of language had acquired new
powers with his years.
Happily for the permanency of his
reputation he devoted his last years to
the work of political history and bio
graphy. We have already alluded to
his " Thirty Years' View " of his sena
torial life — a book admirably planned
to keep in memory his long series of
oratorical labors.

There is certainly no modesty in the
book which leads the author to curtail
the account of his own exploits ; Avhile,
on the other hand, few statesmen have
ever so generously celebrated the merits
of their contemporaries in the same Avalk.
There is a general ease and amenity in
its pages, the apparent indication of an
unruffled mind. As another example
of the author's well known resolution
and perseverance, it may be mentioned
that while the second volume of this
extensive work Avas in preparation,
a fire occurred in his house, and his
manuscripts and books • perished in
the flames, when his first act was a
letter to his publishers, in Avhich he
stated the extent of his loss ; that his
labor would be doubled ; but that he
would " go to work immediately and
work incessantly."
Not content Avith this laborious un
dertaking, he immediately entered
upon another, in his preparation of an
"Abridgment of the Debates of Con
gress from 1789 to 1856," a most im
portant aid to the study of American
political history, extending to fifteen
royal octavo volumes. He had evi.
dently determined to die in harness.
His last moments were given to the
dictation of the concluding portions
of this "Abridgment," when he was
unable to raise his voice above a AAdiis-
per. Disease had been for some time
making its advances upon his vigorous
constitution, but leaving his mental
faculties unimpaired. He knew the na
ture of the struggle, and manfully met
the issue. He died at Washington,
April 10, 1858.

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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

James Fenimoke Coof-eb was born
at Burlington, New Jersey, September
15, 1789, the descendant, on the father's
side, of an English family which had
been for more than a hundred years
settled at that place. His mother, the
daughter of Richard Fenimore, of New
Jersey, was of Swedish descent. His
father, a man of mark in his generation,
Judge William Cooper, had become
possessed, a few years before his son's
birth, of a large tract of land in the
neighborhood of Otsego Lake, in the
State of New York, . and thither, hav
ing established the first settlement at
the spot, he carried the child Avhen he
was but a few weeks old. The boy
Avas thus brought up from his earliest
days amidst the scenery and surround
ed by the associations of frontier life.
The place was well calculated to edu
cate the disposition of a youth natur
ally inclined to a bold, manly career.
" His childish recollections," says his
accomplished daughter, Susan Feni
more Cooper, in a delightful series of
sketches of the author and his Avorks
recently published, "were all closely
connected with the forests and hills,
the fresh clearings, new fields and
homes on the banks of the Otsego.. It
was here his boy's strength was first
tried in those sports to which grey

headed men, amid the cares of latei
life, delight to look back. From the
first bow and arroAV, kite and ball, to
later feats in fishing, riding, shooting,
skating, all Avere connected Avith his
highland home. It was on the waters
of the Otsego that he first learned to
handle an oar, to trim a sail. Healthy
and active, he delighted in eATery exer
cise of the kind — a brave, blithe-heart
ed, impetuous, most generous and up
right boy, as he is remembered by
those Avho knew him in childhood."
This Avas the out of door life, and
doubtless the real education of the
youth, far more potential in laying the
foundations of the future man than
anything there to be- taught Avithin
doors, if Ave except the influence of
character and domestic life in his noble
home. The village schoolmaster, how
ever, plays his part in the boy's history.
We hear of him, good master Oliver
Cory — dignifying the scene of his
labors with the title of an Academy,
and training his pupils in religion
as Avell as in more earthly learning
The school had its exhibitions, when
the orations of the great men, out of
Shakspeare, were declaimed by boys
arrayed in " the local militia uniforms,
blue coats faced with red," a costume,
hoAvever, not more ridiculous than that
1»9

200

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

of Garrick himself in these persona
tions, Avho dressed the parts in the wig
and fashion of the time. On one of
these occasions young Cooper, a boy of
eight, recited the Beggar's Petition " in
the character of an old man, wrapped
in a faded cloak and bending over his
staff." Nor Avas the youth entirely without
a knack of literature. He was fond
of the reading of romances, " Don Be-
lionis of Greece " among the number,
which made so great an impression on
him that it led to the project of a Avork
of the kind, which he Avas to compose
in concert with a boyish comrade, the
son of the village editor. The tAvo
friends undertook to get the Avork up
in the printing office, dictating to one
another as it proceeded. Of course it
did not go very far. A more success
ful effort was a doggrel ballad' on the
" Burning of Buffalo," which he penned
for a strolling singer, Avho carried it
about "the country with considerable
benefit to his humble fortune.
From Master Cory the youth was
transferred to the maturer scholarship
of the Rev. Mr. Ellison, an English
clergyman of repute at Albany, who
received a few pupils in his family, and
there he was prepared for college. He
entered Yale at the age of thirteen,
shortly after the death of his instructor.
He Avas in the same class Avith the poet
Hillhouse, and shared the supervision
of the model President Dwight. Three
years passed at such a seat of learning
must have stamped many an image of
literature upon the mind of ah ingenu
ous youth, though it was tO be some
time before the tree bore much of this

species of fruit. His tastes and tempei
were for active life, for following out
on a larger sphere the inclinations
which he had acquired in the free
woodland life on the Otsego. The
navy was his choice, and, as a prepara
tory discipline, he left college for a
brief apprenticeship to the science as a
sailor before the mast. A voyage to
England about the year- 1805, and
thence to the Mediterranean, introduced
him not only to the hardships of the
sea, but to that political Avorld of Eu
rope and those maritime relations Avith
the mother country, which Avere to en
gage so much of his attention in after
life. He regularly entered the navy
as a midshipman, and was for several
years engaged in its active duties, at
one time in the sloop of war Wasp,
and at another in the construction of
some vessels on Lake Ontario. 116
resigned his commission upon his mar
riage, in 1811, with Miss Susan De
Lancey, a young lady of one of the
leading families in the old settled
county of Westchester, in the State of
New York. He then established him
self with his bride in a cottage in the
neighborhood of Mamaroneck, in that
region, with a prospect before him of
rural life and employments.
His first entrance upon his literary
career was somewhat accidental. It
Avas his habit, in the cultivated society
of his home, to read aloud to his family
the new books for which America Avas
then almost exclusively indebted to
the London publishers. The works of
Sir Walter Scott, as they arrived, made
a great impression, which we can
hardly appreciate amidst +he multifa-

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

201

rious objects and claims upon our
attention of the present day. In the
cottage at Angevine, as Mr. Cooper's
residence was called, in compliment to
the old Huguenot occupants of the
place, we may be sure the Waverley
series was dropped into an appreciative
circle. There was leisure for admira
tion and a disposition to enjoy ; with
that impulse in the chief reader, derived
from a keen perception of life, and a
youth itself not unskilled in personal
adventure and deeds of daring. The
influence of Scott on such a mind must
have been great ; but it Avas not to the
author of Waverley that the first im
pulse of Cooper toward a literary life
was directly due. Some less successful
writer set him on the track. He was
once reading a novel- of the old domes
tic school of English life, when he
threw the book down in disgust with
the exclamation that he could write a
better than that himself. He was
challenged to the performance of the
work. He sat down to make the effort,
and the first chapters of his novel of
" Precaution " were the result. He was
encouraged to continue it by his friends ;
it Avas soon concluded, and thus, at the
age of thirty-one, in 1820, Mr. Cooper
became an author.
A more unlikely man at that time to
devote himself to the labors of the pen
was not to be found. " Hitherto," says
his daughter, " no man could have
shown himself farther from any inclina
tion for authorcraft. He was not one
of those people who like the feeling of
foolscap, the sight of pen and ink ; who
indulge secret partialities for note
books, diaries and extracts. His port

folio Avas wholly empty — scarcely, in
deed, provided with letter paper for an
occasional correspondent." So much
the better, perhaps, for the vividness
of his perceptions and the freshness of
his efforts when he at once struck into
his neAV path. He did not, however,
hit it at once, though he was not long
in finding the true bent of his genius.
" Precaution " was an imitative book —
•the scene was laid in England and the
incidents and manners were the worn
materials of English fiction. The inci
dents were those of the hall and the par
sonage; the whole Avas pronounced
respectable but not forcible, and Avas
generally attributed to a lady's pen. It
had a fair reception, and the honor of an
early English reprint. It is still printed
in collections of the author's works, but
would probably have long since passed
into oblivion with the many books of
its kind, had it not been succeeded by
the vigorous series of volumes herald
ed by the " Spy"
This novel, the appearance of which
marks an era in our American litera
ture was separated by only a year
from its predecessor, "Precaution;" yet
what a different work ! How unlike
its eager activity and keen woodland
atmosphere in the New World, to the
faded drawing-room scenes of the Old !
There was no mistaking this for the
work of a female hand. It was a genius
kindred to that of Scott, but unlike, as
was fitting, in its adaptation to new
scenes and situations. The author was
not the man to rest content with the
reputation of reproducing the materials
of English novel-writing, however suc
cessful he might be thought in the

202

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

work. He turned to his own soil, to
the patriotic legends of his country, to
the impulses which he had received by
her lakes and mountains, and from the
lips of her aged patriots. The leading
character of the book, Harvey Birch,
was suggested by a narrative which the
author heard from Chief Justice Jay,
of the Revolution, sitting one summer
afternoon on his broad piazza at Bed
ford, where Mr. Cooper and his family
were privileged visitors. " The dis
course," the novelist himself tells us,
" turned upon the effects which great
political excitement produces on charac
ter, and the purifying consequences of
a love of country, when that sentiment
is powerfully and generally awakened
in a people." Out of this sentiment,
and the slight thread of narrative with
Which it was accompanied, grew the
" Spy," the prompt, vigorous creation
•of a man of genius, seeing with his own
eyes and recording his own unborrowed
impressions. It is a book of action, of
ingenious contrivances, of force and in-
tenseness of mind, alive with honest,
natural emotions, a warm patriotism
and a kindling love of nature. Its suc
cess was great and immediate, both at
home and abroad. The friends of the
author in New York society were taken
by surprise ; but they soon learned to
recognize the man they had among
them in his new capacity, as book after
book came forth to confirm the disco
very of his powers.
The composition of the " Spy " was
something of a curiosity. " So little,"
says the writer, in the preface to his
revised edition, " was expected from
the publication of an original work of

this description at the time it Avas Avrit-
ten, that the first volume Avas actually
printed several months before the au
thor felt a sufficient inducement to
Avrite a line of the second. As that
second volume was slowly printing,
from a manuscript that was barely dry
when it went into the compositors'
hands, the publisher intimated that the
work might grow to a length that
Avould consume the profits. To set his
mind at rest, the last chapter Avas actu
ally written, printed and paged several
weeks before the chapters which pre
cede it were even thought of."
To the "Spy," in 1823, succeeded
the " Pioneers," in Avhich the authoi
drew upon the associations and inci-
, dents of his early home on the Otsego.
The work abounds with fresh pictures
of nature, manly, original characters,
and foremost among them the universal
ly known Leatherstocking, that ideal sof
tened stoic of the woods, combining the
best instincts of his race with a nobility
of character worthy the most exalted
lineage. While the events of, the story
are purely fictitious, the scenery and
manners are literally and truthfully de
scribed, and many of the personages
rest more or less upon actual charac
ters, while all are true to the preva
lent types of the country. In his OAvn
account of the book the author admits
Leatherstocking to be a pure creation,
but claims for the rest in general a
fidelity to actual life. "The great
proprietor resident on his lands, and
giving his name to it instead of receiv
ing it from his estates, .as in Europe, is
common over all NeAV York. The phy
sician, with his theory rather obtained

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

203

than corrected by experiments on the
human constitution ; the pious, self-de
nying, laborious and ill-paid missionary,
the half-educated, litigious, envious and
disreputable lawyer, with his counter
poise a brother of the profession, of
better origin and of better character ;
the shiftless, bargaining, discontented
seller of his 'betterments;' the plausi
ble carpenter, and most of the others,
are familiar to all Avho have ever dAvelt
in a new country."
We have alluded 'to the impulse of
the works of Sir Walter Scott in giv
ing direction to the powers of Mr.
Cooper. His next book, a pure novel
of the sea, in a walk which he was
to make entirely his own, singularly
enough had its motive in an acci
dental1 conversation at the table of a
friend over the last production of the
author of " Waverley." The " Pirate "
had just appeared, and everybody was
talking of its wild, romantic scenes and
sea flavors, breathing so freshly of the
northern coasts of Scotland. Lands
men were so impressed with its nauti
cal display that they doubted whether
Scott, the gentleman, who had passed
his life in the society of Edinburgh,
and who, it Avas to be supposed, knew
no more of the ocean than what was
visible from the shore, could be its au
thor. Cooper, with his accustomed
resoluteness and independence of tone,
was disposed to gratify someAvhat this
extraordinary admiration. His expe
riences in the navy had made him crit
ical, and AAdthout denying the general
force and spirit of the picture, he pro
nounced the seamanship of the book
defective. The friend Avith Avhom the

conversation began, the late Mr. Charles
Wilkes, a gentleman of great Avorth
and eminent literary accomplishment,
the promoter of every liberal enter*
prise in New York in his day, thought
the Waverley treatment quite sufficient.
The ardent temper of Cooper, as mani
fested in the production of his first
novel, was put to the proof, and he de
termined to write a novel which should,
if possible, justify his opinions. He
resolved to produce a book " which, if
it had no other merit, might present
truer pictures of the ocean and ships
than any that are to be found in the
' Pirate.' " The friends whom he con
sulted looked doubtfullv on the under-
taking. " One would declare that the
sea could not be made interesting ; that
it was tame, monotonous, and without
any , other movement than unpleasant
storms, and that, for his part, the less
he got of it the better. The Avomen
very generally protested that such a
book Avould have the odor of bilge wa
ter, and that it would give them the
maladie de mer. Not a single indivi
dual among all those who discussed
the merits of the pioject, within the
range of the author's knowledge, either
spoke or looked encouragingly," Spite
of these prognostics, however,- the
book, like its predecessors, was a decid
ed hit. The well-chosen machinery,
the introduction of an historical interest
in the naval hero of the American Re-
Volution, Paul Jones, and above all,
the genuine salt flavor of the scenes,
with heroic Long Tom Coffin and his
associates, and the nautical accuracy
with which they Avere described, giving
confidence to readers, even where it

201

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

could not be fully appreciated, secured
the general approbation. " There could
be no doubt," says Miss Cooper, " as to
its success. All that interest which
the writer had believed it possible to
throw round a naval narrative was
fully aroused ; the opinion declared
some months earlier at the table of
Mr. Wilkes was proved to be correct.
The pictures placed before the reader
were drawn with so much spirit and
poetical feeling, with so much clearness
and fidelity, as to command attention
and fill the public mind for the mo
ment. The success of the book in Eng
land was also decided. Ere long,
indeed, the tale was translated into
French and German and Italian, in
spite of the many technical difficulties
of the subject — a most convincing
proof of the interest of the Avork ; the
flag of. the little Ariel was carried tri
umphantly into the Bay of Biscay, aye,
jito the classic waters of the Mediter
ranean." The " Pilot " was published
at the end of the year 1823 — the au
thor thus, in the short space of three
years, having given to the world three
original works of fiction in distinct
walks of composition : a romance of
the Revolution, the peculiarly Ameri
can story of frontier settlement, and
the tale of the ocean, the precursor of a
long succession of nautical fictions from
his own and other pens.
"Lionel Lincoln," Mr. Cooper's fourth
novel, appeared in 1825. In its subject
matter, a tale of the leaguer of Boston,
it belongs to the same class as the
" ^Py>" an<i was intended by the author
as one of a series of novels of the Revo
lution, Avritten to illustrate the historv

of each of the original thirteen States.
It has been generally considered less
successful than some of the author's
other productions, the interest of the
main character, an American loyalist
officer, not being carried to a sufficient
height ; but it has scenes and charac
ters creditable to the writer's heart and
the boldness of his resolution in en
countering difficulties. An elaborate,
carefully prepared presentation of the
battle of Bunker Hill is one of the per
manent attractions -of the book.
A tour in the summer of this year,
1825, gave birth to yet another produc
tion, the " Last of the Mohicans," which
ranks with the foremost of the author's
works of fiction. Leatherstocking, in
this work, reappears upon the stage at
an earlier period of his life, however,
than in the "Pioneers;" and unlike
most reproductions by a novelist of a
favorite character, his second entrance
was as successful as his first. The deli
neations of forest life and the scenery
about Lake George, or, as the author
then for the first time called that beau
tiful body of water, Lake Horican,
increased his hold upon his readers.
The composition of the book was inter
rupted by an attack of fever, at
tended with delirium, but the author's
mind remained true to his work.
In the midst of his illness he roused
himself to dictate a sTieet of seemingly
incoherent notes, which became the
basis of one of the most powerful
chapters. He had hardly recovered from this
illness when he was engaged in the
composition of the " Prairie," urged,
thus his daughter tells us, to reneAVed

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

205

activity by the derangement of his
financial affairs, in consequence of the
unexpected loss in the settlement of his
father's estate, and embarrassments
arising from debts incurred from no
extravagance of his own, but from his
benevolence in becoming responsible
for the obligations of others. To expe
dite his work he resorted to the use of
coffee as a stimulant, the only instance
in which, in his long literary career,
he employed any resource of the kind.
" The effect on his nerves," we are told,
" was not good, and the coffee was
given up after a short time." In fact,
Mr. Cooper was a man of great simpli
city of habits, not an ascetic, indeed,
but of a healthy, vigorous temper, liv
ing much according to the plain dic
tates of nature. There are indications
of this honesty in his writings, which
bear no appearance of late hours or
forced products of the brain. An off
hand, unsophisticated character may be
read in them all, without vinous enthu
siasm or affectation of any kind. Their
language is the speech of a sincere,
straightforward man.
Before the " Prairie " was finished,
the author sailed with his family for
Europe, to reside abroad for some years.
He left with the plaudits of his coun
trymen ringing in his ears, and was
received in Europe as an author of
established reputation, who had honor
ably won a high position. He took
up his residence at Paris, and there, " in
the third story of the old Hotel de Ju-
mieges, in the faubourg St. Germain, a
building which is now occupied by the
nuns of the adjoining convent of St.
Maur," the last chapters of the " Prairie "
n.— 26

were written. Its successful descrip
tions of western scenery were penned -
without visiting the regions where the
scene was laid. Again Leatherstocking
appeared, now in his last years, and
again with the old effect, " dying as he
had lived, a philosopher of the wilder
ness, with few of the failings, none of
the vices, and all the nature and truth
of his position." The new work did not
lack its admirers. One of the noblest
eulogies pronounced upon it is by the au
thor's friend, Mr. Bryant, the poet, whose
sympathies Avere all with its theme. " I
read it," says he, " Avith a certain awe,
an undefined sense of sublimity such as
one experiences on entering for the
first time upon those immense grassy
deserts from which the work takes its
name. The squatter and his family —
that brawny old man and his large-
limbed sons, living in a sort of primi
tive and patriarchal barbarism, sluggish
on ordinary occasions, but terrible
when roused, like the hurricane that
sweeps the grand but monotonous wil
derness in which they dwell — seem a
natural growth of those ancient fields
of the West. Leatherstocking, a hun
ter in the " Pioneers," a warrior in the
"Last of the Mohicans," and now, in
his extreme old age, a trapper on the
prairie, declined in strength but unde-
cayed in intellect, and looking to the
near close of his life, and a grave under
the long grass, as calmly as the laborer
at sunset looks to his evening slumber,
is no less in harmony with the silent
desert in which he wanders. Equally
so are the Indians, still his companions,
copies of the American savage some
what idealized, buc not the less a part

206

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

of the wild nature in which they have
their haunts."
Mr. Cooper's second sea novel, the
" Red Rover," succeeded the " Prairie."
It was written in the summer of 1827,
at a delightful suburban residence, oc
cupied with his family by the author
at the village of St. Ouen, in the neigh
borhood of Paris, on the banks of the
Seine — a choice spot, in happy contrast,
Avith its simple rural pursuits and
amusements, to the wild waste of wa
ters on Avhich the author, now sent forth
his imagination in the construction of
a tale of rare power and beauty. The
"Red Rover" is a bold conception
of character, involving sudden vicissi
tudes of action, and for breadth and
effect, and interest in its personages,
ranks with the happiest of the writer's
creations. " It is as completely a book
of the sea," says the filial pen which we
have already cited, " as the ' Mohicans '
is a tale of the forest. The whole dra
ma is almost entirely enacted on the
ocean. The curtain rises in port ; but
the varied scenes, so full of nautical in
terest and succeeding each other with
startling rapidity, are wholly unfolded
on the bosom of the deep. It is he
lloed that there is scarcely another
book in English literature so essentially
marine in spirit. It is like some mate
rial picture of the sea, drawn by a mas
ter hand, Avhere ' the eye looks abroad
over the rolling waves, where it glances
at the sea-bird fluttering amid the
spray, and then rests upon the gallant
ship, with swelling canvas, bending
before the breeze, until the land behind
us, and the soil beneath our own feet
are forgotten. In the "Rover," the

different views of the ocean in majestic
movement are very noble, while the
two vessels which carry the heart of
the narrative with them, come and go
with wonderful poAver and grace, guid
ed by the hand of one who was both
pilot and poet in his nature."
Before the publication of his next
novel, Mr. Cooper gave to the world a
didactic work of a patriotic character,
intended to represent to his new Euro
pean audience the working of Ameri
can institutions at home ; for it was a
characteristic of the novelist to be
always actively employed with Avhat
was around him. He was not a self-
pleasing man, satisfied with the dreams
of his study or the creations of his
imagination, but a man among men, of
earnest, practical utilities. It was this
sense of ¦ life, indeed, which gave force
and reality to his mental creations.
The book in which he embodied his
views was entitled, "Notions of the
Americans, by a travelling Bachelor/'
the first of several in which the living
contemporary manners of his country
men are topics of , discussion. It Avas
in reference to this work that the lines
of the poet Halleck were written, in
the opening of his poem " Red Jacket :"
" Cooper, whose name is with his country's woven,
First in her files, her Pioneer of mind —
A wanderer now in other climes, has proven
His love for the young land he left behind ;
"And throned her in the senate-hall of nations,,
Ebbed like the deluge rainbow, heaven- wrougui
Magnificent as his own mind's creations,
And beautiful as its green world of thought ;
"And faithful to the Act of Congress quoted
As law authority, it passed nem. oon.;
¦ He writes that we are, as ourselves have voted,
The most enlightened people ever known.

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

207

"That all our week is happy as a Sundaj
In Paris, full of song, and dance, and laugh ;
And that, from Orleans to the Bay of Fundy,
There's not a bailiff or an epitaph.
"And furthermore, in fifty years, or sooner,
We shall eroort our poetry and wine ;
And our brave fleet, eight frigates and a schooner,
Will sweep the seas from Zembla to the Line."
From France Mr.- Cooper passed to
SAvitzerland, where he resided during
the summer of 1828, at Berne, at a
country-house in the vicinity of the
city, and as the winter approached
crossed the Alps, and made his home
for a time at Florence ; for in these
migrations he literally carried his home
with him, establishing himself in quar
ters of his own, and, while fully avail
ing himself of the resources of the
country, preserving at the same time
his old domestic habits. His family
grew up around him under his own
roof, and the labors of his pen Avere
pursued at leisure. In the Casa Rica-
soli, at Florence, which he made the
seat of a generous hospitality, Mr.
Cooper wrote his novel, the " Wept of
Wish-ton-wish," which he had planned
in Switzerland, a tale of old Connecti
cut Puritan life, of a capture by the
Indians, the fate of the white maiden,
adopted into the tribe, the story of her
parents' deprivation, and of the return
of the daughter, an Indian wife and
mother, to her long lost civilized home.
The incidents were well suited to the
author's powers, which were always
happily employed in Indian adventure
and. the portrayal of the natural affec
tions. From Florence the novelist migrated
by Avay of Leghorn, in a coasting voy

age, to Naples. Establishing himself
again for the summer, in a most pictu
resquely situated habitation at Sorren
to, commanding a most extensive view
of a region of undying classical interest.
The house Avhich he occupied had the
traditional reputation of having been
occupied by the poet Tasso. There, in
the study and enjoyment of the sea
and land beneath his eye, the greater
portion of the "Water Witch" was
written, the scene being laid " in Ame
rican waters, on the shores of Staten
Island, whiie the time chosen wa"s the
period shortly after the English had
taken possession of New Amsterdam — ¦
the Dutch element of the colony figur
ing largely in the book." There was
some difficulty about printing the booh
at Rome, whither the author removed
at the setting in of winter, and he was
compelled to adjourn this advantage,
preparatory to sending copies to Eng
land, France and America, till his arri
val the next season at Dresden.
At Rome Mr. Cooper mingled Avith
the better society always to be found
there, and employed himself in a liberal
study of the antiquities of the place.
He passed thence to Venice by the
States of the Church, and from Venice
to Germany, returning to Paris in time
to witness the stirring scenes of the
Revolution of 1830, which placed
Louis Philippe on the throne. He was
in conference with Lafayette at this
crisis, and proposed to him a plan of
government, in the establishment of
Henry V, which would have combined
royal authority with popular constitu
tional securities. He was also engaged
in the defence of his country from a

208

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

charge made in the "Revue Britan-
nique," that the government of the
United States was one of the most ex
pensive in existence. This led to some
controversy, which was not suffered
materially to divert the mind of the
author from his more regular pursuit
of novel-writing. The " Bravo," a tale
if Venice, was given to the world in
1831, and received with various degrees
of favor. It is certainly creditable to
the writer's talent for romance writing,
that he was charged with having imi
tated a popular work of Monk Lewis
in this production, when he had never
read the book which it was said he
had copied. His next novel was the
" Heidenmauer," which, like the " Bra
vo," had a political design. It was
speedily followed by the " Headsman,"
the scene of which was laid in Switzer
land, the result of a second visit to that
country in the summer of 1832. Not
long after this, in 1833, the author re
turned to America after a residence
abroad of seven years, the incidents of
which he afterwards made his country
men familiar with in a series of delight
ful books of travel, abounding with
vivid descriptions of men and things,
shreAvd observation and ingenious re
flection, entitled, " Sketches of Switzer
land," and " Gleanings in Europe,
France and Italy."
On his arrival in America, Mr. Coo
per, who was naturally a resolute dis
putant, fell into a controversial vein
which for a time interfered with that
enjoyment of his writings which the
hearts of his countrymen were always
ready to accord. At this time of day
it is hardly worth while to dwell upon

these passages, though they engrossed
too large a part of the author's atten
tion, and entered too deeply into his
writings to be ignored in his biogra
phy In his once famous "Letter to
his Countrymen," published soon after
his return, he replied with some acri
mony to the newspaper attacks upon
his reputation, always, perhaps,, an im
politic course, and in his case to be sin
cerely lamented, for it was felt to be a
great mind giving importance, to little-
things. The spirit of controversy, too,
got into his works of the imagination,
and his next three novels, the u Moni-
kins," and " Homeward Bound," and
" Home as Found," published between
the years 1835 and 1838, were strongly
tinctured with this argumentative sati
rical humor. Its exercise exposed him
to much censure at the time, but it is
generally conceded that his course was
an independent one, and that he had
at heart the good of his countrymen.
It led him, however, into a protracted
conflict with the journals, ending in a
series of libel suits instituted by him
against the defamatory neAvspapers,
which he conducted with great energy
and in which, Ave believe, he Avas uni
formly victorious.
In the midst of these altercations,
which undoubtedly for awhile obscured
the just literary fame of the author,
Mr. Cooper came before the public Avith
his "Naval History of the United
States." It was published in 1839, was
well received, and remains a standard
work in the American library. The
author's practice in narrative gave him
a great advantage in the viA'id recital
of naval actions, while his punctilio

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

20D

and exactness in all matters relating to
¦the order and discipline of the service
imparted to the work its critical cha
racter. An important addition to this
Avork was published by him some
years later, in his series of " LiATes of
distinguished Naval Officers." There
is an unpretending, manly tone in all
these productions which is very hap
pily in accordance with the spirit and
requisitions of the subject. No Warmer
appreciate* of the essential traits of
American character in its better deve
lopments ever lived than Mr. Cooper.
He Avas ' eminently fitted for the work
of biography and history, and had he
devoted himself more particularly to
these departments would no doubt
have achieved a reputation hardly infe
rior to that which he secured in his
special field.
From these somewhat distracting
pursuits, the novelist, who had now es
tablished his home at COoperstown, at
the old hall built by his father on the
Otsego Lake, returned to his early suc
cesses in fiction in the production of a
novel, the "Pathfinder," built up on
the associations of the favorite " Last
of the Mohicans." Reminiscences of
his adventures as a midshipman on the
shores of Lake Ontario Avere blended
with his inventions, and the whole
proved a most harmonious, pleasing
picture of forest life — an impression
upon the public mind which after the
appearance of an intermediate novel,
"Mercedes of Castile," was seconded
by .another work, which appeared
shortly after, not a whit inferior, the
" Deerslayer," The chivalric Indian of
the old Leatherstocking type appears

in these. works surrounded by groups
of characters naturally drawn, wdth. a
chastened enthusiasm, particularly in
the female personages, which, as usual
with. the author's delineations of the
sex Avere models of delicacy and purity.
The scene of " Deerslayer " was laid on
the Otsego Lake, at an early period,
when the land Avas as yet clothed with
its primeval woods. " Deerslayer " re
presents the youth of the chivalrous
Indian hero who figures in so many of
the author's novels. It was the last book
in Avhich he was introduced, but the
first, in the order of his history, to be
read in following his fortunes.
Mr. Cooper, having now reestab
lished his fame by two productions of
imposing merit in the old field of In
dian adventure on land in this second
or after-period of his literary career,
turned his attention Avith like success
to his other domain of the sea. The
" Two Admirals," and " Wing and
Wing," assured the public of his una
bated powers in this direction also.
Other works rapidly followed, tales of
land and ocean — " Wyandotte, or the
Hutted Knoll;" " Afloat and Ashore,"
and its sequel, "Miles Wallingford;"
" The Crater, or, Vulcan's Peak ;" " Oah
Openings, or, the Bee-hunter ;" " Jack
Tier, or, the Florida Reef;" " The Sea
Lions, or, the Lost Sealers" — carrying
us to icy, Antarctic regions ; a distinct
series, bearing the names, " Satanstoe,"
"The Chain-bearer," and "The Red
skins," written with a political purpose
in illustration of and opposition to the
Ncav York anti-rent doctrines of the
day, and last of the extended proces
sion of novels. "The Ways of th«

810

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

Hour," which had .also a social and
political bearing.
The work last mentioned appeared
in 1850, in the author's sixty-first year,
and he was yet planning new achieve
ments in literature. His failing health,
however, began to warn his friends
that the end was approaching, though
it was difficult to bring home the idea
of any interruption of that vigorous,
manly career which had kept on so
bravely in its long Avork of profit and
instruction. Even while he was dying,
part of the manuscript of an unfinished
book from his pen, a social history of
"The Towns of Manhattan," illustrative
of his favorite Westchester County and
its family histories, Avas in the printer's
hands. But the inexorable messenger
who interrupts all earthly labor sus
pended the work in its progress, and the
author was summoned from his books,
and family, and friends. The immediate
cause of his death was a dropsical affec
tion. He expired on the eve of his
sixty-second birthday, at his family seat
at Cooperstown, September 14, 1851.
He was a man of a warm-hearted,
generous nature, robust and stalwart,
mentally and physically ; of a healthy
temperament, seeing the world through

no ideal medium, sensitive in his per
ceptions, hardy and resolute in his re-'
solves. He had something more than
most men of the combative in his dispo
sition, but it did not impair the integ
rity of his motives, the worth of his
friendship, or the purity of his patriot
ism. In literature his character was of
eminent service to his country, which
needed such a guide, and such a cham
pion of her claims to originality. No
one has done more for the fame of the
nation, especially on the continent of
Europe, than James Fenimore Cooper.
His works have been translated and
read in Avell-nigh all living languages,
and have created an interest in the
country in the minds of those who
could not be readily approached by
any other means. To his own people
he has left not only the ever attractive
series of his works, but the not less
valuable example of his earnest, manly
character. His eulogy has been admir
ably pronounced by Bryant ; the inci
dents of his life yet waiting a matured
biography, have been affectionately set
forth by his daughter — and the conge
nial pencil of the artist Darley has fol
lowed, with loving devotion and kin
dred power, the creations of his genius

^a/f./9c

;i/n /},, ¦ .i/npi/p: ' piitj/tili:/ /iy /'/„ip,p./,. r/t. l/ir. pr.;.;t:.-i:ujn, ,//'///.,- pixAfii'i/?,;
'• ¦ in::mj.l'iy k.u, "il,li:ik . i, .. ',','.

WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON.

The Virginia Harrison family, of
which the President of the United
States was descended, is traced to a
colonial ancestor in the middle of the
seventeenth century. A son of this
early inhabitant gave birth to Benja
min Harrison, Avho established the line
at the family seat at Berkeley, Charles
City County, on James River. He Avas
a laAvyer, speaker of the House of
Burgesses, and much esteemed in the
colony, where he exercised a liberal
influence by his virtues and hospitali
ty His grandson of the same name
was the signer of the Declaration of
Independence, and father of the Presi
dent. The family had always taken an
active part in public affairs, propor
tioned to its growing Avealth and im
portance, and the young Benjamin,
who was early left to the care of the
estate, was not disposed to avoid this
responsibility. He took his seat in the
House of Burg-asses, before he reached
tne legal age, and became at once
marked out by his firmness and ability
as a political leader. He Avas one of
the committee appointed in 1764 to
prepare an address to the king, and
memorials to parliament on the resolu
tions of the House of Commons, prepa
ratory to the Stamp Act. When the

first independent convention of dele
gates' met at Williamsburgh, ten years
afterward, Avhen the mismanagement
of parliament had ripened the country
for revolt, he was sent a member of the
first Continental Congress, which met
in Philadelphia. He was also a mem
ber of the second Virginia assembly of
delegates at Richmond in 1775, which
took the' active measures placing the
county in a state of self-defence and
resistance. He at first regarded these
steps as premature, but speedily acqui
esced in the vote of the House. He
Avas again returned to the second and
more important General Congress at
Philadelphia. An anecdote is related
of him at this time in connection with
John Hancock. When the spirited
Boston leader showed some reluctance
or diffidence in accepting the Presi
dency on the retirement of Peyton
Randolph, Harrison, who Avas standing
by him, is said to have seized him
in his arms and placed him bodily
in the chair, with the exclamation,
"We Avill show Mother Britain how
little we care for her, by making a
Massachusetts man our president, Avhom
she has excluded from pardon by a
public proclamation." * Another story

212

WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON:

is narrated involving a similar allusion
to his powerful figure, in his remark to
Elbridge Gerry, his very opposite, in a
slender, spare person, at the signing of
the Declaration. " When the hanging
scene comes to be exhibited," said Har
rison, as he raised his pen from the
instrument, "I shall have all the ad
vantage over you. It will be over
with me in a minute, but you will be
kicking in the air half an hour after I
am gone." Anecdotes like these, of
such a man, shoAV no levity of disposi
tion in conflict with the serious duties
in Avhich he Avas employed, but they
do shoAV an animation and good heart
in the cause which needed every sup
port of physical temperament as Avell
as mental resolve. Our fathers fought
with cheerfulness as Avell as resolution.
¦ Harrison continued in Congress ac
tively employed in its various employ
ments till the close of 1777, when he
only transferred his political duties to
his native State. He was speaker of
the House of Burgesses till 1782, in
cluding the disastrous period of the
invasion of Virginia, and Avas then
twice elected governor. He Avas again
called from private life to sit in the
State Convention, of the Constitution,
to which he gave his influential sup
port, and was more or less engaged in
public life to his death, in 1791.
William Henry Harrison Avas his
third son. He was born at Berkeley,
the family residence, February 9, 1773 ;
so that he came into the field of active
life Avith the new generation which
succeeded the Revolutionary era. His
education was well provided for under
the care of the family friend, the finan

cier Robert Morris, and at Hampden
Sidney College in Virginia, Avhence he
turned to the study of medicine. He
had acquired some knowledge of the
profession in the office of a physician
of Richmond, and was about to pursue
his studies with the celebrated Doctor
Rush, at Philadelphia, when his-father's
death occurred, and, with some reluc
tance on the part of his family, he
chose for himself a military life. He
was aided by General Henry Lee in
obtaining a commission as ensign in
the 1st regiment of United States in
fantry, and as the government had
then an Indian Avar on its hands in the
Western Territory, he at once, at the
age of nineteen, found himself engaged
in active service. Passing but a feAv
days in Philadelphia, he hastened to
hi3 regiment, stationed at fort Wash
ington, the site of the present Cincin
nati, where he joined the remains of the
broken forces of St. Clair, just escaped
from the disastrous engagement at the
Miami villages. It was thus that he
Avas introduced to a region with Avhich
he became thoroughly identified, and
his popularity in Avhich, long after the
scenes of war Avere over, carried him
triumphantly into the Presidential
chair. The ill fortune Avhich had befallen
St. Clair was calculated to rouse the
warlike spirit of the generous youth ;
and it had its lesson of caution and
preparation in dealing Avith the In
dians, Avhich was not lost upon subse
quent campaigns. When Major-Gene
ral Wayne took the field, in the sum
mer of 1793, Harrison, noAV holding
the rank of lieutenant in his regiment,

WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON.

213

was appointed his aid. In the brilliant
engagement at the Rapids of the Miami,
he distinguished himself by his valor,
and secured from Wayne special men
tion in his dispatch of the victory, as
" one who rendered the most essential
service, by .communicating my orders
in every, direction, and. by his conduct
and bravery exciting the ' troops to
press for victory." The battle on the
Miamis was fought August 20, 1794,
and a year afterward, with various in
termediate demonstrations and negoti
ations brought forth its peaceable
fruits in Wayne's treaty of Greenville,
which closed the war.
Harrison was then, at the age of
tAventy-three, with the rank of Captain,
placed in command of Fort Washing
ton, where he about the same time was
married to the daughter of John Cleves
Symmes, whose name is so honorably
distinguished in the history of the
western settlements, and particularly
as the founder of Cincinnati. The
young officer held this post till 1797,
when he sent in his resignation, with
the intention thereafter, says his bio
grapher, Montgomery, " of devoting his
time to the peaceful and more conge
nial pursuits of agriculture." He was
speedily, however, withdrawn from
these quiet anticipations to public du
ties, in his appointment by President
Adams as secretary of the Northwest
Territory, then under the government
of St. Clair. When the Territory be
came organized, and was qualified to
send a delegate to Congress, Harrison
was chosen its first representative in
1799. He distinguished himself in this
hody by his activity and success in secur-
ii— 27

ing to settlers the privilege of purchas
ing the public lands in- small quantities,
and in measures favoring their preemp
tion rights and modes of payment.
On the division of the Territory,
Harrison was withdrawn from Con
gress to discharge the .duties, of the first
governor of the newly formed Territory
of Indiana, which included the present
States of Indiana, Illinois, Michigan,
and Wisconsin. This was in 1801, and
the whole region now so populous
numbered only 'five thousand people,
scattered over the whole country, ex
posed to the dangers of frontier life
and the unsettled relations with the
Indians. " With such difficulties," says
his biographer, " it was no less a mat
ter of duty than .of necessity that he
should be clothed with the amplest
independent . powers. Amongst those
of a civil as well as political nature
conferred upon him were those jointly
Avith those of the judges, of the legisla
tive functions of the Territory, the ap
pointment of all the civil officers within
the Territory, and all the military offi
cers of a grade inferior in rank to that
of general ; commander-in-chief of the
militia ; the absolute and uncontrolled
power of pardoning all offences; sole
commissioner of treaties with the In
dians with unlimited powers, and the
power of conferring, at his option, all
grants of lands.'r Harrison held this
proconsular office for sixteen years, dur
ing which he saw the country steadily
increasing in strength and prosperity t
though his career, experienced and pru
dent as it was, proved. not without dif
ficulties with the Indians, rising at
length to open warfare.

214

WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON.

The struggle, known as the battle of
Tippecanoe, which took place on the
seventh of November, 1811, involved
various elements of preparation on the
part of the savages, some of which im
part to their conduct of the war an inte
rest with which there will always be a
certain degree of sympathy. The effort
of a falling race to regain its authority
under a leader like Tecumseh, assisted
by the fanaticism of his brother the
Prophet, is raised out of the rank of the
ordinary Indian fighting propensities.
The Indian chief was a hero of no ordi
nary class. To the virtues of the Avar-
rior in arms, he united many of those
moral qualities so poAverful in strength
ening the courage of the soldier. He
was self-denying, forbearing, and even
compassionate. Born in the centre of
Jhio, he represented the races immedi
ately west of the Alleghanies, whom
he appears early to have sought to
unite against the whites. Consistently
Avith his character for sincerity he de
clined to attend Wayne's council of
peace at Greenville. His great effort
was to bring the scattered tribes to act
in concert. For this purpose he estab
lished, in 1808, an Indian settlement at
the Tippecanoe River, a tributary of the
Wabash, in Indiana, whither, with the
aid of the Prophet, he brought together
a considerable number of recruits to
his mingled political 'and superstitious
teaching. The "Wabash Prophet," as he Avas
called, was at first considered a simple
visionary. Jefferson, then in the Presi
dency, took this view of him, and thought
little harm Avould come of his preaching
the simple austerities of their forefathers

to a race not remarkably disposed to. ab
stinence and self-denial. His success,
however, and the activity and declaia-
tions Of Tecumseh, with the imminent
English war at hand, aroused the anxie
ties of the people of the Territory, and
when positive ground was taken by the
Indian leader at the conference of Vin-
cennes against the progress of the treat
ies by which Harrison was extending
the authority of the whites, it' was
found necessary to assume a decided mi
litary stand. The governor therefore at
length, in October, 1811, advanced his
forces, composed of regulars and militia,
officered by experienced western leaders,
toward the Indian settlement presided
over by the prophet on the Tippecanoe.
Moving forward cautiously with a force
of nine hundred men, he reached a sta
tion about a mile and a half from the.
town, Avhere a military encampment Avas
formed, when some conferences were
commenced with the foe. It was evi
dent that the purposes of the Prophet
were hostile. Harrison arranged his
men in order to receive the assault,
which was made by the Indians early on
the morning of the seventh of Novem
ber. It Avas in fact a night attack,
though commenced after four o'clock, a
drizzling rain, and the season of the year
favoring the darkness. The onset AAras
made with vigor, on all sides of the
encampment, which Avas gallantly de
fended, with considerable loss of life by
the rifle companies at their several sta
tions. The camp Avas thus resolutely
held, and kept unbroken, till daybreak,
Avhen new military dispositions Avere
made, and a charge at the point of the
bayonet, put the Indians to the rout.

WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON.

21ft

" With this success," says Mr. Dawson,
in his account of the battle,1 " the engage
ment was enaed ; both parties appeared
to have satisfied the expectations of
their friends. The steady, undeviating
courage of the American troops elicited
great commendation ; while Governor
Harrison, speaking of his savage ene
my, says ' the Indians manifested a
ferocity uncommon even Avith ¦ them.'
In this, however, they were inspirited
by the religious fanaticism under which'
they acted — the Prophet, during the
action, being posted on a neighboring
eminence, singing a Avar-song; and in
faint imitation of Moses in the wilder
ness, directing his people by the move
ments of his rod." The forces engaged
in this battle were probably about
equal. The Americans lost some sixty
officers and men killed, or who died of
their wounds, beside the wounded sur
vivors, and the Indian loss was sup
posed to have been greater.
The attack upon the American camp
was urged and directed in the absence
of Tecumseh, by the Prophet, Avho
promised in virtue of his soothsaying
insight,, an easy victory. The result
was that he altogether lost credit with
the tribes whom he had inveigled to
his town by his necromantic appeals.
When the battle was fought, Tecumseh
AAras on a journey to the Southern In
dians, whom he was stirring up to his
warlike enterprises. He reached the
Wabash on his return in time to wit
ness the first effects of the discomfiture
of his followers, and it is said, so great
was his indignation toAvard his brother,

1 Battles of the United States, II V3-81.

the Prophet, that on his attempting to
palliate his fool-hardy conduct, he seized
him by the hair and threatened his life
The disaster had broken up his long
entertained hope of an Indian confede
racy against the white man. The game,
hoAvever, Avas not quite up yet. The
desperation of the Indians Avas taken
advantage of by the British authorities
on the frontier, to engage them in the
war with America. In May, 1812, Te
cumseh Openly joined the British stand
ard at Maiden. On the eighteenth of
the following month Avar against Great
Britain was formally declared by Con
gress. The campaign of Hull in Canada,
opened with brilliant promise in his in
vasion of the country, speedily to be
checked by his inefficiency and to ter
minate in his ignominious surrender of
Detroit. This disaster, of a sufficiently
afflictive character, so far however, from
intimidating the Avestern defenders,
called them to newr exertions, and vo
lunteer forces were raised in large num
bers in Ohio and Kentucky. There
was at first some conflict of authority
as to tne command of the troops of the
latter State, which, for the purpose of
placing Harrison at their head, con
ferred upon him the brevet commission
of Major-General, while the Secretary
of War, ignorant of this movement,
assigned the command to General Win-
Chester. The difficulty, however, Avas
speedily solved bythe appointment of
General Harrison by the President, in
September, commander-in-chief of the
Western Department, when the left
wing of the army was assigned to Gene
ral Winchester. Harrison himself took

216

WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON.

his position in what the British con
quests had now made the frontier, the
northerly portion of Ohio bordering on
Michigan, and made his headquarters
at Upper Sandusky.
The new year 1813, Opened with a
movement on the part of Winchester,
noAV established at the rapids of the
Maumee to protect the Outlying settle
ments in Michigan on the Raisin River,
a territory virtually in possession of
the British. For this purpose Colonel
LeAvis Avas dispatched with a force over
the frozen waters of the adjacent por
tion of Lake Erie to FrenchtoAvn, from
which the enemy were driven with
great gallantry. This action occurred
on the eighteenth of January. On the
tAventy-second, the victors in the mean
time having been joined by Winchester
with a small body of troops, an attack
was made upon the American position
by Colonel Proctor, who had issued
forth from the neighboring Maiden,
only eighteen miles distant, with a con
siderable party of royal troops, several
pieces of artillery, and a formidable
band of six mmdred Indians. The
camp was taken unprepared ; such re
sistance as could be offered at the mo
ment was made, but the American
defeat was complete. Such was the
cruelty of the Indian allies and the
merciless conduct of the British com
mander, that the action, an indelible
disgrace to the British arms, passes
in history as the massacre at the River
Raisin. Both the officers, Lewis and
Winchester were captured; of about
a thousand American troops engaged,
but thirty-three escaped, nearly four
hundred were killed or missing, and

the rest taken prisoners. • General Har
rison, though he disapproved of the
more than questionable attempt at hold
ing a position like Frenchtown in the
face of the superior foe, did all that he
could to save the fortunes of the army
by hastening thither with recruits ; but
the action was fought and the disaster
completed before he reached the scene,
All further onward movements were of
course, for the time, unavailing, and
the commander-in-chief intrenched: his
forces at the Rapids of the Maumee,
constructing there . a fort, named in
honor of Governor Meigs, of Ohio.
The next important event of the wai
in this quarter Avas the attack on this
fort in the spring, by a force led by
General Proctor, of over two thousand
men, more than one half of whom were
Indians, and of the rest above five hun
dred were regulars. He made good his
landing on the river tAvo miles below
the fort ; but he had this time a more
diligent commander than Winchester to
encounter. Harrison, who anticipated
an attack, had hastened from a recruit
ing mission to Cincinnati, to superintend
the defence. The fort Avas defended by
its elevated position and the usual pro
tection of works of that kind, of pick
ets and block houses. As a further
protection against the pieces of artillery
which the besiegers Avere bringing to
bear upon it, a heavy embankment Avas
carried across the works Avhich sheltered
the troops from the enemy's fire. The
batteries of the assailants were opened
on the first of May, and continued Avith
energy for four days Avith little effect,
Avhen the arrival in the vicinity of Ken
tucky reinforcements under Genera]

WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON.

217

day, Avhich Harrison had originally
sent for, gave the commander the oppor
tunity to plan a concerted attack upon
the besiegers. It was made by a sally
from the fort and two divisions of
Clay's troops at different points 'Avith
various success ; but the result was the
virtual discomfiture or defeat of the
British. The fighting of that fifth of
May, proved the superiority of the Ame
ricans and a few days after the seige was
abandoned. We here meet again with the Indian
leader, Tecumseh, who proved himself a
skillful combatant in the day's work,
and Avho, Ave may mention, had exhibited
his prowess in the campaign in Michi
gan at the expense of a detachment of
Hull's command previous to his sur
render. A story of this chieftain's in
terposition in saving some of the pri
soners taken by the British in this action
before Fort Meigs, is creditable to his
humanity, while the necessity for such
interposition adds another item to the
fearful account against Proctor for his
treachery and cruelty at the River Rais
in. While a dispute was raging "be
tween the PotaAvatamies and the more
merciful Miamis and Wyandots, as to
the fate of the captives, the work of
scalping and slaughter having been al
ready wreaked on some tAventy defence
less victims, Tecumseh came upon the
spot flourishing his hatchet, and it is
said burying it in the head of a chief en
gaged in the bloody Avork, commanded
them, for shame to desist. "It is a dis
grace," said he, "to kill a defenceless
prisoner :" and his order was obeyed.1
1 Dawson's Seige of Fort Meigs. Battles of the United
6tat.es , ' ;

The loss of the Americans in the seige
and the action was greater than that of
the British; but Ave are to consider in
the number of the slain those perfidi
ously murdered by the savage allies of
the enemy. Proctor, at any rate, was
unable to stand before the American
forces noAV thickening around him.
Thus relieved of the presence of the
enemy, General Harrison waited thf
effects of Perry's movements on the
lake below. Once in command of Lake
Erie, the British occupation of Michigan
he felt would now be abandoned. The
interim between this time and Perry's
victory which opened the way to the ex
pected conquests was honorably marked
by Major Croghan's gallant defence of
Fort Stephenson, against another attack
of Proctor. That action Avas fought on
the first of August; on' the tenth of
September, Perry defeated and captured
the whole British squadron. Harrison
who had been impatiently waiting this
result, now rapidly matured his meas
ures for the reconquest of the country
overrun by the British. Employing the
smaller vessels taken from the enemy
to transport a portion of his forces, noAV
powerfully recruited by the Kentucky
volunteers, Harrison effected a landing
on the Canadian shore, on the twenty
seventh of the month, and advancing
to Maiden, found it abandoned by the
British and its fort and storehouses de
stroyed. Proctor, with all his royal
forces accompanied by Tecumseh with
his Indians, had retreated within the
peninsula along the line of the Thames,
which empties into Lake St. Clair.
General Harrison, leaving detachments
of his force at Sandwich and Detroit,

218

WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON.

now regained, pushed on with a com
pany of about a hundred and forty re
gulars, Colonel Richard M. Johnson's
mounted Kentuckians, and Governor
Shelby's volunteers, also Kentuckians,
after the retreating foe. Lewis Cass
and Commodore Perry were Avith him
as volunteer aids. The whole force
amounted to about three thousand five
hundred men. For some distance along
the river the troops Avere accompanied
by the smaller vessels of the fleet.
The progress of the Americans along
the route Avas of the most exciting
character as they drove in the enemy
from the defence of the bridges which
lay in their Avay. On the fifth of Octo
ber they came up with the British forces
of Proctor drawn up in the vicinity of
the Moravian town. He had some eight
hundred regular troops and about two
thousand Indians. They were posted
in front of the road and in an open
wood flanked by the river on one hand
and a swamp on the other. The Indians
adjoined the swamp on the enemy's
right. The attack was made on the
front by the mounted Kentuckians,
whose charge at once threw that portion
of the foe into utter confusion, driv
ing through their ranks and assailing
them from the rear. Colonel Johnson,
meanwhile, was engaged in a stubborn
conflict with the Indians, who, directed
by the skill of Tecumseh, reserved their
fire to tell with deadly effect upon
±e advancing column.' Johnson was
wounded, but his Kentuckians were not
to be dismayed. Dismounting from
their horses they plied their rifles with
great effect against the Indians Avho
stood their ground well, but being un

supported by their British employers.
were soon compelled to retreat. Proc
tor himself had already taken to fligh t.
Tecumseh was slain in the battle, the
most illustrious victim of the day. The
number of chivalrous leaders engaged
in the American ranks, men who were
then or afterward became greatly cele
brated, Johnson, Cass, Perry, Shelby,
is noticeable, while more than a quarter
of a century later, "The battle cf the
Thames" Avas to be one of the watch
words of victory for its General in a
great political contest.
The effect of this successful tei urina
tion of the contest following upon Per
ry's naval triumph— a success enhanced
by the embarrassments and failures of
the early part of the struggle — upon
the West, can hardly be appreciated at
the present day. It was a release from
danger and from fear, from a remorse
less foe and the scalping knife of the
savage. With Tecumseh fell the last
Indian enemy known to a great region
of the West. Henceforth we are to
follow his successful adversary through
the paths of civil life. General Harri
son Avas not engaged in the later occu
pations of the army. He was in effect
driven to retirement by the arrange
ments of General Armstrong, the Sec
retary of. War, by whom he was, under
some adverse influence or other, virtu.
ally suspended in his command. WheD
he was omitted in the plan of the next-
year's campaign, he resigned the com
mission which he held as major-general,
and its accompanying emoluments.
He now resided at his farm at North
Bend, on the Ohio, uear Cincinnati,
which henceforth, in the intervals of

WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON.

219

public occupation to which he was fre
quently called, continued his residence.
He was in Congress from 1816 to 1818,
a member of the House of Representa
tives, and from 1824 to. 1828 a member
of the Senate. Between these dates he
sat in the Ohio Senate. In 1828 we
find him appointed by President John
Quincy Adams, Minister Plenipoten
tiary to the Republic of Columbia.
He reached Bogota, the seat of his du
ties, in February of the next year, and
Avas received with favor, but he had
hardly entered upon the mission Avhen
President Jackson coming into office, he
was recalled. Resuming again his agri
cultural pursuits at North Bend upon
his return, he was occasionally called
upon to deliver public addresses and
speeches, of Avhich several were printed.
One of these, which Avas republished
during his canvass for the presidency,
Avas a discourse before the Philosophical
and Historical Society of Ohio, in 1837,
in Avhich he took the aborigines of the
State for his text. He had some talent
for composition and was fond of illus
trations drawn from ancient history.
In 1836, General Harrison Avas a can
didate for the presidency in opposition
to Van Buren. Though the strength
of the Whig party which he represented,
was somewhat divided, he received
seventy-three electoral votes, a sufficient
test of his popularity to bring him into
the field again at the next election.
The elements of opposition had in the
meantime gained force; the country
was suffering under an extraordinary
financial depression ; there Avas discon
tent on all sides. General Harrison re
ceived the nomination of twenty-two

states at Harrisburg, and was triumph
antly borne into the presidential chair.
A peculiarity of the canvass was the
popular good will, which eagerly seiz
ing hold of the "log cabin" and "hard
cider" as emblems of the simplicity of
his early western life, turned them to
political account. " Log cabins " were
set up in villages and toAvns through
out the country, at which hard cider or
its more comfortable equivalents were
freely dispensed. Carried rapidly on
ward in the popular enthusiasm, he re
ceived the electoral vote of tAventyof
the tAventy-six States, and two hundred
and thirty-four electoral votes against
only sixty given to Mr. Van Buren.
The inauguration of President Harri
son at Washington, took place on the
4th of March, 1841 ; on the same day of
the folloAving month he breathed his
last. The active duties of his responsi
ble station, the exacting pretensions of
office seekers Avho beset a new president,
the pressure of the previous canvass,
may have all contributed to the severity
of the shock which deprived him of life.
He was sixty-eight years old, a time of
life Avhen any great change of habit
may easily destroy the constitution;
when a simple cause may shake a Avea-
ried frame. A slight cold which he
took by exposure to the rain was fol
lowed by sudden prostration; a diar
rhoea set in, and after an illness of but
a few days he expired. His last Avords,
heard by his physician, Dr. Worthing-
ton, Avere as if addressing his successor,
" Sir, I Avish you to understand the true
principles of the government. I Avish
them carried out. I ask nothing more."
In announcing the event to the public,

220

WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON.

the members of the Cabinet, of which
Daniel Webster was at the head, wrote :
"The people of the United States, over
whelmed like ourselves, by an event so
unexpected and so melancholy, will
derive consolation from knowing that
his death was calm and resigned as his
life had been patriotic, useful, and dis:
tinguished ; and that the last utterance
from his lips expressed a fervent desire
for the perpetuity of the constitution
and the preservation of its true princi
ples. In death, as in life, the happiness
of his country Avas uppermost in his
thoughts." The personal qualities of General
Harrison had much to do with his ele

vation to the presidency. His life AAaa
marked by a union of moderation with
good fortune and substantial success in
public affairs. He was prosperous as a
commander where others failed; he was
identified with the growth and prospe
rity of a powerful region of the repub
lic ; he had made few enemies though
he had been the subject of hostility,
and he had been too long retired from
public life to awaken any new preju
dices. His. military reputation, after
the precedent of Jackson, was doubtless
in his favor ; but a belief in his good
sense and his integrity, with the expecta
tions of the times, in a change of policy,
were the elements of his success.

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WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.

The life of this distinguished histo
rian exhibits not only the career of a
successful man of letters in the produc
tion of a series of books of universal
interest among all civilized communi
ties ; but it is remarkable for the con
quest, under peculiar privations, of diffi
culties in the pursuit of knowledge sel
dom in like circumstances surmounted
or even attempted to be surmounted.
Mr. Prescott's great historical works
Avere written, for the most part, by him
Avhile he was in a state of partial blind
ness, and the labor required was such
that for purposes of study and composi
tion he might be considered wholly de
prived of sight. For a good portion of
his long-continued toil he was obliged to
rely on an assistant for reading and pre
senting his. materials, exactly as Milton
was dependent on his daughters. He
had not the felicity of Milton in thosa
years of profound and extensive study
which had accumulated such vast trea
sures in his mind before the organ of
sight was extinguished. But he had one
advantage, it may be said, in wealth and
leisure, which placed the literary trea
sures of the world at his disposal and
gave him the command of the services of
intelligent secretaries. These were, how
ever, aids which depended altogether
upon the resolution to employ them • for
h.— 2S

wealth and leisure are oftener found
means of self-indulgence, especially
when physical disability offers so good
a plea, than incentives to extraordinary
exertion. The literary activity of Pres
cott would have been remarkable in a
man of full health with every benefit
of fortune; in his case a double debt
of gratitude is due from his readers for
whom, Avith strict parsimony, he hus
banded every moment of his time and
every possible use of his powers.
William Hickling Prescott was born
at Salem, Massachusetts, the residence
of his father, May 4, 1796. His family
was one of the most ancient and honored
in the State, his immediate ancestors for
four generations having been persons
of distinction. His great-grandfather
was a councillor of the old Colony Go
vernment; his grandfather was the
memorable defender of Bunker Hill;
his father, also named William Prescott,
a lawyer and judge of high character,
has been pronounced by competent au
thority, " one of the wisest and best as
well as one of the ablest men that New
England has produced." His mother
was the daughter of Thomas Hickling, .
of whose character it is enough to say
that he was appointed by Washington
Consul at St. Michaels, and that he held
the office for nearly half a century

821

222

WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.

The early years of Prescott were
passed at Salem, but at twelve he came
with his parents to Boston, and had the
benefit in his education of the instruc
tion of the Rev. Dr. Gardiner, an Episco
pal clergyman of Boston, a good scholar
and positive character of the old school.
He entered Harvard at fifteen, the
usual age, and graduated in regular
course in 1814. It was while he was
a student at Cambridge that the acci
dent occurred which so materially af
fected his eyesight. He was sitting at
table in the college hall when a school
mate threw a crust at him across the
board. It struck his eye, and this slight
cause was the occasion of his subse
quent difficulties. He entirely lost the
use of the injured eye and the other
became in consequence sympathetically
affected, and so impaired that he could
use it, at the best of times afterwards,
only in the most guarded manner. He
would, we are told, had it hot been for
this disaster, have engaged in his father's
profession, the law; but the injury he
had received rendered this impossible.
He endeavored in every way to remedy
it, by the relaxation of foreign travel
and consultation with eminent Euro
pean oculists, who could afford him no
aid. It was characteristic of the man
that in this strait he deliberately chose
a calling which he might pursue as his
health permitted. In a letter which he
wrote and which has been published
by his friend the Rev. George E. Ellis,
he says, speaking of his college acci
dent and his interrupted reading, "I
consequently abandoned the study of
the law upon which I had entered ; and,
as a man must find something to do, I

determined to devote myself to letters,
in which independent career I could
regulate my own hours with reference
to what my sight might enable me to
accomplish." >*
After two years travel in England,
France and Italy, on his return home
he devoted himself to a thorough pre
paration for historical studies in a dili
gent cultivation of his faculties and a
thorough course of study of ancient
classical literature and the modern lan
guages of France, Italy and Spain. He
had Gibbon before him as his great ex
emplar, that author's Autobiography,
a kindling incentive to an ingenuous
youth bent on the pursuit of letters; as
he himself tells us, stimulating the
strong passion for historical writing
which he had early conceived. " I pro
posed," he says in the letter just cited,
" to make myself a historian in the best
sense of the term and hoped to produee
something which posterity would not
willingly let die" In a memorandum
book, as far back as the year 1819 (he
was then in his twenty-third year) " I
find," he continues, " the desire • inti
mated; and I propose to devote ten
years of my life to the study of ancient
and modern literature-^-chiefly the lat
ter — and to give ten years more to some
historical work."
The design was literally and faith-
fully carried out. The occasional pa
pers which he published in the North
Americcm Review during this advanced
period of literary pupilage bear witness
to the range and happy selection of his
studies. They include critical and de
scriptive articles on Italian Narrative
Poetry, the Poetry -and Romance of the

WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.

223

Italians, Moliere, Cervantes, Irving's
"Conquest of Granada"^— the last, writ
ten in 1829, significant of the direction
his mind had already taken. Its open
ing sentences are filled with frequent
suggestions of his historic enterprise as
he glances at the requisitions of .the
finished historian. He not only sees
the inevitable requisites of truth and
fidelity, but is quite awake to the
lighter graces and artistic demands.
•w Mixed up," says he, "with the. drier
details, he must display the various
powers of a novelist or dramatist, throw
ing his characters into suitable lights
and shades, disposing -his scenes so as
to awaken and maintain an unflagging
interest, diffusing over the whole that
finished style, without which his work
will Only become a 'magazine of mate
rials for the. more elegant edifices of
subsequent writers."
The historical theme which he chose
for the main exerciseiof his powers was
the reign of Ferdinand and., Isabella,
an admirably selected subject. leading
the way to a mine of literary wealth
worked, before and since by many emi
nent writers, but by none more profit
ably than by himself. : It .was his first
care in preparation for this work to sur
round himself with an ample store. of
original authorities. Fortune, happily,
had placed it in his power to satisfy
this prime necessity of his labors. His
studies, his correspondence and friend
ships had given him peculiar facilities,
which he availed, himself of to , the
utmost. But while his materials were
beinar collected for him at Madrid, his
eye Avas so severely tried by his studies
that on the .arrival of these Spanish

authorities, he was quite unable to use
them. It was several years before he
was again in a situation to read. " I
well remem.ber," he wrote subsequently,
"the blank despair. which. I felt when
my literary treasures arrived from Spain
and I saw the mine of wealth lying
around me which I was forbidden to
explore." It was not in his nature,
however, to despair. He was already
prepared to encounter the hardships of
a partial deprivation of sight; nor did
his courage fail him at the prospect of
total blindness. ; The heroic effort of
Milton was before him, which appears
always to have cheered his heart. A
remark of Dr. Johnson in his life of
the great poet, to the effect- that the
composition of a history from various
authors "when they can only be con
sulted by other eyes, is not easy, nor
possible, but with more skillful and at-
tentive. help. than can be commonly
obtained," he tells us .'! first engaged
my attention in the midst of my em
barrassments, and, although discourag
ing at first, in the end stimulated the
desire to overcome them." A happier
instance of the benefit of achance^sown
reflection— and the writings of Johnson,
who. always looked tenderly to human
interests,. abounds with such — can hard
ly be found in literature.
The young author. set himself reso
lutely to the work. of overcoming the
difficulty. __ "The ear," as he said, "was
to do the work of the eye."; He began
experimentally with a reader who knew
no language .but English, who com
menced reciting to him the history of
Mariana in tones which he was gradu
ally taught to accommodate to his hear

224

WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.

er's perceptions. It was unsatisfactory
enough at first as they groped their
way through the darkness, but "in a
few weeks the light became stronger;
and cheered," Mr. Prescott tells us, " by
the consciousness of my own improve
ment, when we had. toiled our way
through seven quartos, I found I could
understand the book when read about
two-thirds as fast as ordinary English."
A more accomplished assistant was then
engaged to lead, if we should not rather
say, be led, by the author through this
dreary track of investigation. After
some years spent in this "tortoise-like
progress," listening to the crabbed de
tails, selecting the most valuable points,
dictating them to the amanuensis and
again listening to the repeated reading
of them till the whole was stored for
use in the author's mind, ready to be
engrossed in a chapter of his narrative,
he had recourse to a method which
enabled him to help himself. Thierry,
the French historian of the Norman
Conquest, also deprived of sight, had
advised him to cultivate dictation, but
he usually preferred a method which
he had found in use in London in
the beneficent efforts for the ameliora
tion of the condition of the blind. As
described by himself, this simple ap
paratus consisted of "a frame of the
size of a sheet of paper, traversed
by brass wires, as many as lines are
wanted on the page, with a sheet of
carbonated paper, such as is used for
getting duplicates, pasted on the reverse
side. With an ivory or agate stylus
the writer traces his characters between
the wires on the carbonated sheet, mak
ing indelible marks, which he cannot

see, on the white page below." It. was
"a treadmill operation," he says, subject
to many "whimsical distresses," and the
characters traced had something of the
nature of hieroglyphics, but he found
this writing-case his " best friend in his
lonely hours," and with its aid he
penned the many successive volumes
of his histories. Before, however, his
first work, the "Ferdinand and Isabella,"
was completed, his sight was so far re
covered as to enable him to revise the-
manuscripts which he had thus pre
pared unseen.
In 1837, the work was committed to
the press. Its reception at once, at
home and abroad, stamped the author as
a popular writer with the masses and an
acquisition to the learned circles of the
world. It has been translated into
Spanish, Italian and German, and passed
into a universal- literary currency. Its
merits Avere not to be mistaken. A
spirit of calm, judicious investigation,
supported by unwearied industry and
research ; with a constant regard to the
artistic opportunities of the ever vary
ing theme ; all borne along on a style
of remarkable ease and clearness, were
not to be overlooked in a rising histo
rian who came to fill a much lamented
gap in the best stored libraries. Mr.
Everett relates an anecdote of the pos
sessor of such a collection who was loud
in his praises. " Calling one day," says
he, " on the venerable Mr. Thomas Gren-
ville, whom I found in his library, the
second in size and value of the private
libraries of England, reading Xeno-
phon's 'Anabasis' in the oiigiaal, 1
made some passing remark on the
beaut}'' of that work. ' Here,' said he,

WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.

225

holding up a volume of 'Ferdinand and
Isabella,' ' is one far superior.' " 1 Yet
such was the modesty of the author that,
after he had finished the work, he hesi
tated as to its publication. Content
with the gratification of having written
the book, of his triumph over extraordi
nary difficulties, he said to his father
" that he should place it on his shelf and
leave it for those who come after him."
The work, it should be mentioned, was
•printed for his own use, that he might
be able to correct it, in large type in
quarto. In the same spirit with the
remark to his father, he consulted Mr.
Jared Sparks as a consummate master
of historic studies, placing the volumes
in his hands for perusal. He was, of
course, met with an expression of admi
ration at the beauty and interest of the
work. This the cautious mood of the
Writer questioned as a tribute of friendly
feeling, and asked anew, " Do you think
it should be published 2" " Why not ?"
was the reply ; to which the author ex
pressed his doubts of success in the
remoteness of the subject and his fear
that his execution of it would not prove
sufficiently attractive. The judgment
of his father, it is said, determined his
resolution to publish. Without placing
too much stress upon anecdotes of this
kind, which frequently savor of affecta
tion, we may believe the emotion in this
case to have been real and that it would
have cost the author no sacrifice of
vanity to have withheld his book from
the public. Yet we can hardly suppose
him unconscious of its- value ; he, un
doubtedly, with the greatest intellects,
1 Mr. Everett's Remarks on Mr. Prescott before the
Massachusetts Historical Society.

experienced a pleasure in the exercise of
his faculties, and Avas quite too well con
scious of the means which he so dili
gently employed to be ignorant of re
sults. Besides, there is in the minds of
the best authors a stronger satisfaction
in the sense of ability, the faculty to do
something which demands genius and
effort, the self-approval of accomplishing
it, than in the accidental returns of favor
from the public. Vanity must be re
warded on the instant, but geniusj self
inspired, can wait.
Mr. Prescott's second wrork was a
natural sequence to his first. He had
already been carried in his labors to
the western hemisphere, and tAvo of the
most brilliant episodes of history, in
the discoveries and conquests of Mexico
and Peru, lay before him. Again rein
forced by a copious stock of new mate
rials, he approached his task with a
stimulus of original research denied to
his predecessors in the field. The
Royal Academy of History at Madrid
placed at his disposal the extensive man
uscript collections of the indefatigable
historiographer Muiioz, and of its presi
dent, Don Vargas Ponce, while the
living head of that body, the eminent
Navarrete, made him a like sharer of his
labors. Froni Mexico itself, from Naples
and from Great Britain, he obtained
like important aid. Thus fortified he
approached his captivating subject. He
had hardly completed this preparation,
however, when he learnt that the topic
had already engaged the attention of
Washington Irving, who may be said to
have fairly taken possession of this his
toric ground in America by his "Life of
Columbus." The story filled with gal-

226

WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.

lantry and enterprise and deeds of
thrilling adventure must indeed have
been attractive to the pen to which
Spanish themes of knightly daring al
ways presented a peculiar fascination.
That Mr. Irving readily yielded to his
brother in letters was in a noble spirit
of courtesy worthy of the association ;
for he had not only his eye upon the
tempting narrative but had made some
progress, Ave believe, in collecting the
requisite material. But whatever he
had undertaken in this direction he
cheerfully relinquished the whole ; and
well did he entitle himself to the hand
some compliment which Mr. Prescott
paid him in his allusion to this instance
of magnanimity. "It was not," says
he, in his preface to the " Conquest of
Mexico," " till I had become master of
my rich collection of materials, that I
was acquainted Avith this circumstance;
and, had he persevered in his design, I
should unhesitatingly have abandoned
my own, if not from courtesy, at least
from policy; for, though armed with
the weapons of Achilles, this could give
me no hope of success in a competition
with Achilles himself. But no sooner
was that distinguished writer informed
of the preparations I had made, than,
with the gentlemanly spirit which will
surprise no one who has the pleasure of
his acquaintance, he instantly announced
to me his intention of leaving the sub
ject open to me. While," gracefully
added the writer, -"I do but justice to
Mr. Irving by this statement, I feel the
prejudice it does to myself in the una
vailing regret I am exciting in the
bosom of the reader."
The " Conquest of Mexico" was pub

lished in 1843, and its companion his
tory, the " Conquest of Peru," appeared
in 1847. The general attractiveness
and splendor of the subject, the abun
dant opportunity for picturesque de
scription in geography, natural history,
the quaint civilization of the countries;
and above all the blending of biography
with history in the military adventures
of the two heroes Cortez and Pizarro,
the whole tinctured by the wonder and
enthusiasm of the old Spanish authori
ties, gained probably for the author
many new admirers even for his more
sober political . and state disquisitions.
The flowing ease of his style, his choice
selection of circumstances and careful
arrangements of his stage scenery were
well bestowed, and the result was, as
before, a work of lasting interest.
The field of Spanish adventure in
America being thus fairly divided with
equal honors, between1 Irving and Pres
cott, the latter turned to the more intri
cate but not less imposing procession
of events in Europe. Passing over the
reign of Charles V. — though he subse
quently added notes and an appendix
to the life of that monarch by Robert
son, presenting the neAvly discovered
details of his career in retirement after
his abdication — he devoted himself assi
duously to his last great undertaking,
the "History of the Reign of Philip H"
Two volumes of this work were issued
in 1855, and a third Avas still wet from
the press in the beginning of 1859,
when, on the twenty-eighth of January
of that year, the author was suddenly
called from his earthly labors. Critics
were busy analyzing his noble work
and sounding his praises, when their

WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.

227

pens were summoned to write his obitu
ary, and to the eulogy of the author was
added new admiiation of the man. So
quietly and moderately had Mr. Pres
cott lived, in devotion to his family and
friends and in the engrossing pursuit
of his historic studies, that it has sel
dom happened, that one so well known
by fame and cherished in his writings
had furnished so little of personal anec
dote to bring his life familiarly home
to his readers. There was no deter
mined seclusion in this, for he appears
always to have been affable and easy
of approach. It arose from his earnest,
continuous ; occupation in his work as
the chosen labor of his life, from which
he turned neither to the right nor the
left. His attention was never dis
tracted by politics or society, which
bring men into mixed relations with
the public; he was free from the vanity
of obtruding himself. The world knew
him only through his writings.
The death of Mr. Prescott, though
the blow fell suddenly, was not alto
gether unexpected ; at least he had the
previous warning a few months before
of a first attack of paralysis. When
he was again fatally stricken by this dis
ease, it came upon him in the enjoyment
of apparent health as he was engaged
in his usual occupations. A friend who
saw him a few days before his decease,
was struck with his cheerfulness and
eager interest in matters of literature.
So that those who loved him were re
conciled to his departure, "taken away
by a noiseless appointment and a swift
angel." 1
1 Address of the Rev. Dr. Frothingham before the
Massachusetts Historical Society.

The devotion of Mr. Prescott to his
chosen pursuits was singular. The care of
his family and the social demands upon
one of his position in society being taken
into consideration, it was extraordinary.
Of course it could only be attained by
the most punctilious self-denying me
thod. It is perhaps not difficult for one
gifted with a taste for writing, to em
ploy many hours of the day in compo
sition; but to associate this pleasing
occupation with the requisite industry
of the great historian extorting his mat
ter from the dry records and obscurities
of strange foreign dialects; to be met
at every turn by doubt and perplexity;
to turn wearied from the labor of re
search to the hardly less exacting de
mands of grouping, arrangement, and — ¦
in Mr. Prescott's case — of careful dicta
tion or a mode of writing quite out of
the way of the usual facilities, may well
demand our admiration. One of his
secretaries has given us an interesting
picture of his entire method — introduc
ing us, as it were, to the secrets of his
workshop. He is speaking of the year
1847, when the author was beginning
his work on Philip H.
" Systematical in all his habits," says
his secretary, "his daily mode of life
was regulated by an exact division of
time, to which he adhered punctiliously.
He rose early, waked by an alarm clock,
whose summons he never disobeyed.
Ascertaining by the thermometer the
state of the temperature out of doors,
he clothed himself accordingly, putting
on so many pounds of clothing, more
or less, according to the weather. His
coats, vests, and pantaloons, wera all
marked with their weight in' 'pounds

228

WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.

and ounces. He walked for half an
hour before breakfast, generally, I think,
going over the same route each day —
that is, walking to a particular spot and
then turning back. He always walked
alone, if he could without discourtesy,
disliking to have any companion in his
rambles, because while walking he oc
cupied his thoughts in composition.
After breakfast his wife read to him for
an hour, during which time he shaved
and made his toilet for the day. The
book selected for this hour was always
one of light literature — generally a no
vel. He was very fond of novels, and
thought they stimulated his imagina
tion and contributed to the animation
and picturesqueness of his style.- But
nothing could tempt him to give more
than an hour to such reading. When
the hour expired, the reading stopped,
not to be resumed till the next day, no
matter how interesting the book or
exciting the story. At the time I speak
of, he was reading, in this way, the
novels of Dumas and Eugene Sue —
'Monte Christo,' 'The Mysteries of Pa
ris,' and 'The Wandering Jew.' At
the end of the hour the book would
be laid down, even in the midst of the
most intense chapter. He confessed he
relished highly these romances, though
he laughed at their extravagance, com
paring them to the ' Arabian Nights,'
and saying that they were composed
on the principle of carrying out in
Western scenes and characters the au
dacious wildness of Oriental invention.
He delighted also to have Dickens read
to him, and Avhen sitting for his por
trait to Healy, and afterwards to West
(the artist who painted the well-known

portrait of Lord Byron), he took ma
with him to read ' The Old Curiosity
Shop.' "The novel-reading in the morning
ended always at ten, and Mi*. Prescott
again went out to walk for half an hour,
taking a different route from that of
the before-breakfast walk. At 10i my
work began. I came to his house at
that hour every day, except Sunday.
He liked to have me punctual, and dis
liked to have me come before the time
appointed. If I came after the time he
would make no complaint, but would
gently rebuke me by looking at his
watch. He allowed ten minutes' grace
for accidental detentions. For an hour
and a half I read to him, or wrote for
him, and then, at 12 o'clock, he sallied
forth again for another walk, during
which he made purchases, or attended
to any business he might have in State
street, where, I think, he always went
at this hour. At 1 o'clock he returned
and resumed the labors of the study
for another hour and a half. At 2i he
dined. After dinner, Mrs. Prescott
again read to him for an hour from a
novel, while he smoked the solitary
cigar to which he restricted himself,
always choosing the mildest he could
get. His numerous friends and corres
pondents in Cuba and other parts of
Spanish America, kept him supplied
with a curious variety of brands. If I
remember rightly, he walked out again
for half an hour in the afternoon, his
daily stint of exercise in this way being
five miles. He never failed to perforfri
at least that amount of Avalking. If the
weather was so stormy that he could
not go out, when his set times arrived,

WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.

229

he would put on his hat, boots, and
gloves;. take his cane, and walk briskly
about the house, for the half hour or
hour, as the case might be. At 6 p.m.
I came to him again, and remained till
8, when the labors of the day were
over. His rule was to spend five hours
of the twenty-four in his study, and he
never exceeded that amount."
To this curious account of the day
of an author. may be added some more
particular details, of his manner of histo
rical composition from the same1 source.
He began his Philip II., for instance,
by causing to be taken down from his
library all the books and manuscripts
relating to the subject, materials which
he had previously collected by orders
throughout Europe, unlimited as re
gards variety or expense. Several
hundred volumes in various languages
having been thus brought together in
his study, he set his secretary to the
work of sifting and arrangement, rank
ing his authorities in value according to
their opportunities of observation and
nearness to the times of which he was
about to write. A careful analysis was
made of the more valuable portions.
The book was carefully mapped out in
chapters by the author, who gave his
attention to one at a time, a plan which
doubtless secured the freshness and un
abated interest of the whole. As the
chapters frequently included an entire
section of the subject, complete in itself,
the mind was not overburdened, more
than in writing a review article or a
short biography. Of course Mr. Pres
cott was all the time conscious of the
work as a whole ; but he had so disci
plined his powers as to labor with ease

and safety in parts. As the requisite
manuscripts and authorities were read
to him, he would occasionally dictate a
note, which was written out in a large
hand. He had these read to him when
he had got through with his material
and then had them laid before him for
consultation, while he meditated over
the whole. He would sit silent, ab
sorbed in this study, in his library by
the hour, reflecting thus, on several
days, sometimes for Weeks, till he had
mastered the whole in his mind. Then
he would write rapidly, using his writ
ing-case ; and, as he wrote, his uncouth
manuscript Avas copied by his secretary
in a bold handwriting. When it had
been read to him again and again and
duly corrected, it was ready for the
printer. The command of the various facul
ties ¦ - necessary for such a work implied
a general discipline of temper which
extended into the walks of daily life.
He was the kindest, most amiable of
men, systematic in his charities and
intercourse with his friends as in his
study, a prudent economist, a liberal
provider for all worthy objects. He
was not one man in his books and an
other to his friends and the world; but
he carried his amiability into life and
no one was deceived by the graceful
qualities of his pen. " In the writings
of Prescott," says his brother historian,
Mr. Bancroft, in his eulogy before the
New York Historical Society, " his in
dividual character is never thrust on
the attention of his readers; but, as
should ever be the case in a true work
of art, it appears only in glimpses, or
as an abstraction from the whole. Yet

ii

.—29

230

WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.

his personality is the source of the
charm of his style ; and all who knew
him will say that he was himself
greater and better than his writings.
While his histories prove him to have
felt that he owed his time to the
service of mankind, everything about
him marked him out to be the most
beloved of companions, and the life
and joy and pride of society. His
personal appearance itself was sin
gularly pleasing, and won for him
everywhere in advance a welcome and
favor. His countenance had something
that brought to mind 'the beautiful dis
dain' that hovers on that of the Apollo.
But, while he was high-spirited, he was
tender, and gentle, and humane. His
voice was like music, and one could
never hear enough of it. His cheerful
ness reached and animated all about
him. He could indulge in playfulness,
and could also speak earnestly and pro

foundly ; but he knew not how to be
ungracious or pedantic. In truth, the
charms of his conversation were une
qualled, he so united the rich stores of
memory with the ease, of one who is
familiar with the world. In his friend
ships he was most faithful; true to
them always — true to the last; never
allowing his confidence to be so much
as ruffled by the noisy clamors of
calumny, or by rivalry, or by dif
ferences of opinion. In the manage
ment of his affairs, he was prudent
and considerate: in his expenditures
liberal to all about him, and to those
in want ever largely generous, having
an open hand, but doing good with
out observation. His affections rested
early and happily on the congenial
object of his choice, and the rosy light
of his youth, never dimmed by a cloud,
went with him all his way through
life."

j — .

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ZACHARY TAYLOR.

Or the modern heroes of America
few stand out so simply and distinctly,
so " clear "in their great office," as Gene
ral Zachary Taylor. His character was
of remarkable purity, distinguished by
equal worth and modesty. When he
suddenly became celebrated in the
Mexican war, it was found that, though
unknown to fame, he had deserved re
putation by his gallant conduct in
1812, and subsequently in Florida. He
was known and respected in the army ;
but there had been no blazon of his
deeds in the newspapers. He was con
tent with the performance of his duty.
This was a motto and reward all suffi
cient to his mind. The type of cha
racter which distinguishes him is that
of the elder worthies of the Revolution,
the Schuylers, Moultries and Pinck-
neys. Zachary Taylor was born in Orange
county, Virginia, November 24, 1784,
of a family, English in its origin, which
had long been settled in the colony.
His father, a man of a brave, adventur
ous turn, familiarly known among his
brother pioneers as Captain Dick Tay
lor, emigrated when the child was not
a year old, to the western part of the
State, what was then known as " the
dark and bloody ground" of Indian
strife — the present Kentucky. There

the boy had his training in the rude,
hearty, independent pursuits of frontier
life. We hear something of his school
master, the approved migratory New
England pedagogue, who, when hia
pupil became celebrated, remembered
him as "a very active and sensible
boy." Of his good sense we have no
doubt, for it was a quality which
marked him through life ; while, of his
activity, there is a story related of his
younger days, of his swimming across
the Ohio, from the Kentucky to the
Indiana shore, stemming a freezing
flood in March.
His entry in the army dates from
that memorable period of the attack
of the Shannon upon the Chesapeake,
the fountain of many woes and glories
in the national annals. His father, who
was something of a politician, procured
him the appointment from Jefferson's
administration in 1808 of lieutenant in
the Seventh United States infantry.
He thus commenced his career in the
regular service. Two years later the
young man is married to Miss Margaret
Smith of Maryland. Immediately upon
the declaration of war with England in
1812, we find him engaged under Gen
eral Harrison in the protection of the
northwestern territory against the at
tacks of the Indians. His defence, in

23)

232

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

that year, of Fort Harrison, on the
Wabash, in the territory of Indiana,
against an attack of the Miamis, is
one of the memorable incidents of the
war. This fort, built by the general
whose name it bears, Avas situated on
the upper part of the river, above the
present town of Terre Haute. It was
defended by pickets on three sides,
with a row of barracks and a block
house at either end on the fourth.
Captain Taylor was left in charge of
the work with a small company of
men, in the words of his dispatch to
General Harrison, "not more than ten
or fifteen able to do a great deal, the
others being either sick or convales
cent." He had warning of the threat
ened approach of a party of the Pro
phet's men — the attack belonging to
that series of movements instigated by
Tecumseh and his brother — and though
for some time he had not considered
the post tenable against a large force,
he prepared to defend it to- the, best of
his ability. On the third of September,
two young men, making hay in the
neighborhood of the fort, were picked
off by the Indians, and the next night
they came in numbers to the assault.
They began by firing one of the
block-houses, which endangered the
whole line of barracks. Captain Tay
lor, almost disabled from a severe
fever, rallied his little force of invalids
to extinguish it, but the fire having
communicated to a stock of whisky in
the building, soon ascended to the roof,
and his efforts. had to be directed to
the adjoining houses. The situation
was desperate. In his own simple
words, " Sir, what from the raging of

the fire, the yelling and howling of
several hundred Indians, the cries of
nine women and children, part sol
diers' and part citizens' wives, who had
taken refuge in the fort, and the de
sponding of so many men, which was
worse than all,' I can assure you that
my feelings were unpleasant." But, by
his own energy, and the assistance otf
Surgeon Clark, the only one to aid him
in the command, the roof was stripped
from the next building and water from
the well applied to the exposed por
tions. The line was saved, and the
open space of the fire defended by a
temporary breastwork. All this was
done under the enemy's fire of bullets
and arrows, lasting for seven hours, the
flames lighting up the men at work as
marks for the hostile missiles. When
daylight came the fire was returned
with effect, and the Indians took their
departure, slaughtering the horses in
the Aricinity, and driving off a large
stock of cattle ; what with this and the
stores lost in the conflagration, leaving
the garrison to a diet of green corn.
For this spirited defence, President
Madison conferred upon Taylor the
brevet rank of major.
On the reorganization of the army
after the peace, it was proposed to de
prive him of this rank, which he re
sented, and would have retired to an
agricultural life had not the govern
ment, by yielding, retained him in the
army He was employed in the Indian
service in various ways, and in the
Black Hawk war of 1832 appears in
the field, taking an active part as colo
nel in the concluding battle of the Bad
Axe river. His next scene of opera-

ZACHARY TAYLOR

233

tions was the Florida war, a" field of
greater difficulty than glory. He was
ordered to this service in 1836, and in
December of the following year led an
expedition of about a thousand men, a
few volunteers and the rest regulars,
from Fort Gardiner toward Lake Oke-
chobee, in the immediate neighborhood
tf which the enemy, some seven hun
dred strong, were encamped in a ham
mock. .As the place was .approached,
it was found to be protected in front
by a swamp three quarters of a mile in
breadth. It was " totally impassable
for horses, and nearly so for foot, cov
ered with a thick growth of saw-grass
five feet high, and about knee deep in
mud and water." This was to be
crossed to get within range of the foe,
who fought from behind trees with
every advantage of position. In the
arrangement of the attack, the volun
teers were sent forward with directions
to fall back, if necessary, while the
regulars would sustain them. They
advanced, were fired upon, their com
mander Colonel Gentry of Missouri
slain, when they retreated. The regu
lars then made their way through the
high, stiff grass, suffering heavy losses ;
the place of the fallen was succeeded
by others, and the- enemy finally driven
to the lake in confusion. The action
lasted from half-past twelve till three
p.m. It was one of the important vic
tories of the war, it being exceedingly
difficult to get the Indians to stand in
battle in any numbers. Here nothing
but the most tried valor could prevail
r against them. Colonel Taylor's loss
was very heavy, both in officers, as was
usual in this war, and in men. In his

dispatch, he stops to express his feeling
for the wounded. " Here," says he, " I
trust I may be permitted to say that I
experienced one of "the most trying
scenes of my life, and he who could
have looked on it with indifference, his
nerves must have been differently or
ganized from my own."
His management of this affair and
general efficiency in the campaign were
rewarded with the brevet rank of bri
gadier-general, and shortly after with
the chief command in the State, which
he held till, the arrival of Genera ..
Macomb. General Taylor's plan was to
divide the whole region into a series of
military districts, each presided over by
a fort or stockade, Avhence the troops
might take the aggressive on occasion.
He was employed in Florida two years
later till 1840, when he was assigned to
the commap.'l of the southwestern divi
sion of the army, and had his head
quarters at Fort Jesup, Louisiana. This
brought him within the line of employ
ment in Texas, when, on the annexation
of that countiy to the United States, it
became necessary to protect her west
ern frontier from Mexican invasion.
He was consequently ordered to the
district in June, 1845, and immediately
established his headquarters at Corpus
Christi, on the west bank of the Nueces,
at its mouth. There the " army of ob
servation" gradually augmented, with
the progress of war alarms, to a force
of nearly four thousand men, the " army
of occupation," remained many months,
till March of the following year, when
its commander received directions to
advance to the ultimate boundary, the
Rio Grande. The march of seventeen

234

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

days was made across the intervening
desert, meeting with no opposition of
consequence up to the time of arrival at
the point of the* river opposite Mata
moras, on the twenty-eighth of the
month. A flag-staff was immediately
erected on the spot, and the American
ensign raised, as the bands played the
national airs "Yankee Doodle" and
"The Star-spangled Banner." This vi
cinity was destined to be the scene of
several formidable conflicts. We shall
not trench upon the province of history
to pursue the movements here with any
great minuteness ; but shall touch light
ly upon the main incidents of the cam
paign, which leads us over the battle
fields of Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma,
to the storming of Monterey and the
great struggle at Buena Vista.
The place at which the army first
rested was within sight of the enemy's
headquarters at Matamoras, separated
only by the intervening river. There
having taken his station, and, as he told
the Mexican authorities, in accordance
with the instructions of his government,
being determined to remain, the first
employment of General Taylor, of
course, was to provide some adequate
defences — the more as he was in face
of a considerable body of the foe, to
whom large reinforcements, commanded
by experienced generals, were already
on the way, and war was no longer a
matter of uncertainty. A camp was
established, and the extensive work,
Fort Brown, on the bank of the river,
commanding the opposite town, com
menced. Point Isabel, a day's march
distant in the rear, on the coast, the
first harbor to the north of the Rio

Grande, was the depot for supplies.
General Taylor in his advance had
taken possession of this place, and left
a small garrison for its protection. On
the twelfth of April, General Ampudia,
having arrived at Matamora&with rein
forcements, and taken the command,
addressed a communication to General
Taylor, requiring him within twenty-
four hours to retire to the Nueces while
the Texas question was* under discus
sion between the two governments, or
accept the alternative of a resort to
arms. To this the American com
mander replied, that he had been or
dered to occupy the country to the left
bank of the Rio Grande till the boun
dary should be definitely settled ; that
in discharging this duty, he had care
fully abstained from all acts of hostility,
and that the instructions under which
he was acting would not permit him to
retrograde from the position he occu
pied ; and as for war, while he regretted
the alternative, he should not avoid it,
but " leave the responsibility with those
who rashly commence hostilities."
After this the military proceedings
thickened apace. The right bank of the
river, above and below the camp,
swarmed with the irregular troops of
the enemy. Colonel Trueman Cross, as
sistant quartermaster-general, already,
on the tenth, had been murdered, as he
was taking his usual ride in the neigh
borhood of the camp. On the twenty-
fourth a communication came from Gen
eral Arista, who had succeeded Ampudia
in the command, conveying a further
declaration of hostilities; and simulta
neously word reached the camp Of the
crossing of the enemy in considerable

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

235

numbers. Captain Thornton, sent above
to reconnoitre, was surprised in a plan
tation inclosure, and his little force cap
tured. Below, Point Isabel was in dan
ger of being cut off, an obvious move
ment of the enemy, which required all
the vigilance of General Taylor to coun
teract. Leaving, accordingly, a sufficient
garrison for the defence of Fort BroAvn,
he set out, on the first of May, Avith the
main body of his troops, for the relief
of that important station. He arrived
at the place without interruption, ac
complished his purpose in adding to its
strength, and, on the seventh, invited
by the signal guns of Fort Brown,
which was suffering a bombardment,
began his return, with about twenty-
two hundred men, bringing with- him
two eighteen-pounders, in addition to
the artillery he had taken with him,
and a large train of wagons. About
noon on the following day, the Mexican
troops were reported in front, and were
soon found occupying the road, on an
open prairie skirted by a growth of
chaparral. This was the field of Palo Alto,
so named from the thickets rising
above the general level. The Mexi
cans, six thousand in number, com
manded by General Arista, were drawn
up in a single line, " artillery, infantry
and cavalry placed alternately forming
a living wall more than a mile in ex
tent, of physical strength, of steel and
latent fire." 1 The American force was
disposed by General Taylor with less
regularity, but mostly in a parallel out
line. The right wing, comprising the
1 Thorpe's " Our Army on the Rio Grande," p. 74.

larger part of the force, including Ring
gold's artillery and the eighteen-pound
ers, was under the orders of Colonel
Twiggs; the left was commanded by
Lieutenant-Colonel Belknap. The train
was protected by a squadron of dra
goons in the rear. Having made these
arrangements, General Taylor coolly
directed the men to stack their arms,
march in companies, and supply them
selves with the fresh water of the ad
joining ponds in place of the brackish
water with which they had been fur
nished at Point Isabel. The columns
then advanced, when the engagement
was commenced, shortly after two in
the afternoon, by the Mexican batte
ries. This fire was promptly met by
the whole American artillery, the eight
een-pounders, drawn up in the road,
and Ringgold's pieces doing eminent
execution. An important movement
of the enemy's cavalry, fifteen hundred
strong, led by General Torrejon, on the
right, threatening the flank, was de
feated by the fifth infantry, the flying
artillery and Captain Walker's Texan
volunteers. While this was proceeding,
the dry grass of the prairie took fire
and swept a volume of smoke over the
field, partially concealing the armies
from one another. Under cover of this
obscuration, the line of the enemy,
which had suffered from the artillery,
was reformed in the rear of its first
position, and the American correspond
ingly advanced. After a pause of
about an hour, the fire was reopened,
the action being confined chiefly to the
artillery on both sides. The superi
ority of the American fire was un
doubted ; but it was dearly purchased,

236

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

by the loss of the gallant Major Ring
gold, whose name is identified with .this
effective arm of the service. The day
closed with a brilliant attack from the
enemy's right, which was met with
great spirit by Captain Duncan's artil
lery. In the darkness of the evening
the enemy retired to a new position,
and the wearied Americans slept on
their battle-field, their general spreading
his blanket on the grass in the midst of
the troops. The loss of the Mexicans
was much heavier than that of our own
forces; the commander of the former
reporting two hundred and fifty-tAvo
killed, wounded and missing, while
General Taylor's dispatch numbers only
seven killed, including three officers,
and thirty-nine wounded — an apparent
ly small number of either army, consi
dering the strength on both sides of
the artillery and the skill with which
it was served on a level plain.
The next day brought the battle of
Resaca de la Palma. Early in the
morning the enemy had retired toward
Matamoras, to a strong position at a
ravine, crossed by the road and sur
rounded by a thick groAvth of chaparral.
The approach on the highway was de
fended by a strongly posted force of ar
tillery. Thither the foe were pursued by
General Taylor, who, spite of the supe
riority of numbers confronting him, ex
pressed his determination to be at Fort
Brown before night. Having provided
for the safety of the -supply-train, he
commenced the attack about three in
the afternoon, by advancing a large
body of skirmishers and the battery
of Lieutenant Ridgely. The latter took
up a position on the n.ad. Owing to

the nature of the ground, the engage
ment which ensued was of an entirely
different character from that of the
preceding day. The enemy were shel
tered by the ravine on both its sides.
The growth in front, beside the pro
tection of the rising ground, impeded
the free play of the American artil
lery As the enemy's cannon com
manded the only accessible approach
by the road, it became evident to Gen
eral Taylor, after sending forward his
infantry, that however the latter might
discharge their duty — and they did
make, in his own language, " resistless
progress" — nothing decisive could be
accomplished till that fire was silenced.
He consequently sent to the rear for
the "gallant Captain May and his dra
goons, and committed to them the work.
"You must charge the enemies' batte
ries, and take them," was the general's
language. " I will do it," was May's
response. And, ardent as the onset of
the six hundred at Balaclava, " into the
jaws of death," but not so purposeless,
sped the brave captain and his troop.
Waiting a few moments for Ridgely at
his battery, three hundred yards dis
tant, to draw the fire of the enemy's
artillery, he galloped furiously over the
road, followed by his company, to re
ceive the fire of the inner battery, which
levelled at one discharge eighteen horses
and seven men of his troop, Lieutenant
Inge, one of the number, at his side
But the battery Avas SAvept of its de
fenders ; and though May, unsupported
by infantry, exposed as he was to a
shower of grape and musketry, was
compelled to retire, he fought his way
out of the mass of the foe, bringing

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

237

with him to the camp an eminent
prisoner of war, General La Vega, a
brave officer, whom he had found the
last at the guns, rallying his flying sol
diers to their duty Infantry were
meanwhile ordered up, and the advant
age of the charge secured in driving the
enemy from their artillery on the left.
On the right a breastwork was stormed,
its gun taken, and other successes achiev
ed, completing the rout in this quarter,
including the capture of the general's
camp, with all his official correspond
ence. The artillery battalion left to
guard the train, with other forces, were
now ordered in pursuit, and the flying
army was driven to the river, where
many perished in the attempt to escape.
"In the camp of the army," says an in
teresting narrator of these scenes, "were
found the preparations for a great festi
val, no doubt to follow the expected
victory. The camp-kettles were sim
mering over the fires, filled with savory
viands, off of which our troops made a
plentiful evening meal. In the road
were carcasses, of half-skinned oxen.
The hangers-on of the camp, while the
battle was raging, were busy in their
feast-preparing work, unconscious of
dangers, when, on an instant, a sudden
panic must have seized them, and they
fled, leaving their half-completed la
bors to be consummated by our own
troops." 1
Seventeen hundred was the number
of General Taylor's force engaged with
the Mexicans.^ His loss was three offi
cers, lieutenants Ingej Cochrane and
Chadbourne, and thirty-six men killed ;

Thorpe's " Our Army on the Ric Grande," p. 104.
II.— 30

twelve officers and seventy men wound
ed. General Taylor, in his dispatch,
estimated the Mexican loss, killed,
wounded and missing, during the two
days, at not less than one thousand
men. In a dispatch from -the field that
night, he wrote with characteristic sim
plicity : " The affair of to-day may be
regarded as a proper supplement to the
cannonade of yesterday ; and the twc
taken together exhibit the coolness and
gallantry of our officers and men in the
most favorable light. All have done
their duty, and done it nobly." A few
days, in a fuller report, he added:
" Our victory has been decisive. A
small force has overcome immense odds
of the best troops that Mexico can
furnish — veteran regiments, perfectly
equipped and appointed. Eight pieces
of artillery, several colors and stand
ards, a great number of prisoners, in
cluding fourteen officers, and a large
amount of baggage and public property,
have fallen. into our hands."
This decided success established the
fortunes of General Taylor's Mexican
campaign. Everything had been put
to the hazardj and everything gained.
The force which he commanded, large
enough for resistance, too small, appa
rently, for conquest, invited the attack
of the superior hosts. Victory ap
peared an easy matter to the Mexican
general, who had the choice of the
ground, and who was enabled to divide
the little American army between the
field and the fort. His supplies were
at hand in a considerable city with a
chain of towns in its rear, reaching into
the heart of the country. He had made
every calculation for success. While he

238

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

was attacking the Americans on their
march by a well-planned military move
ment, the batteries of Matamoras were
at work on Fort Brown. One thing
only was wanting to his forces, the des
perate courage for an assault. If this
nerve of the bayonet had been supplied,
Arista might, with his numbers and
resources, have done with ease what
Jackson and his defenders at New Or
leans so bravely accomplished, and
swept his enemies into the sea. But
he had other stuff in his ranks.
If the Mexicans at the outset were
naturally confident of success, the Ame
ricans at home trembled for the fate of
General Taylor's expedition, and the
moral effect of his victory, in the same
proportion, disheartened the one and
elevated the other. The brave troops
on the Rio Grande, it was felt, had re
paired the over confidence of the ad
ministration at Washington. General
Taylor had achieved not only a military
success, but he had rescued the country
from the risk of disgrace. Nothing
could have been better contrived than
the unintentional conduct of the go
vernment, for the creation of a hero.
The American general was placed in a
position where the greatest glory was
to be reached with the smallest com
mand. The Mexican army was completely
disorganized at Matamoras. Their can
nonading of Fort Brown had ceased
with the defeat of their army, and little
was to be thought of but surrender.
General Taylor was soon on hand to
hasten the movement. After the duty
to the dead and wounded had been
performed, he proceeded to Point Isa

bel to confer with Commodore Conner,
who had brought up his fleet to the
assistance of the imperilled little army.
The story is, that the etiquette of this
meeting severely taxed the resources of
the brave general's wardrobe. Long
accustomed to frontier warfare and pro
tracted Indian campaigns, where there
was more rough labor to be performed
than military pomp to be indulged, Old
Zach, as he was affectionately and fami
liarly called, had adapted his dress to
the exigency of the climate and service.
His linen roundabout was far better
known in the camp than his uniform.
Thinking, however, that something was
due from the commander-in-chief of the
army to the head of the navy, who was
understood to be punctilious in dress,
he painfully arrayed himself in the re
gulation coat, fished from the depths of
his chest; while the gallant commodore,
knowing the habits of the general, in
an equally generous spirit of concession,
clothed himself for the interview in a
simple suit of drilling. After this, it
is said, Old Zach returned more sedu
lously than ever to his wonted simpli
city of attire. All his habits, indeed,
partook of the same plain convenience.
Hardy and unostentatious in his mode
of living, he was accustomed to the
rough fare of the camp and an unpre
tending tent sufficed for the dignity of
his headquarters.
The proper arrangements having been
made at Point Isabel, General Taylor
hastened again to the camp over a road
no longer interrupted by Arista and his
host. His next movement was to take
possession of Matamoras, peaceably if
he could, forcibly if he must. Upon

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

239

his making his preparations for the
latter the discreet course appeared
preferable to the Mexicans, and the
town was given up, on the eighteenth
of the month, to the army of occupa
tion. Arista had fled, with such of his
troops as were in a condition to travel,
leaving the place to the hostilities of
the Americans, which proved much
kinder than the tender mercies of the
defenders. The summer was passed by General
Taylor at Matamoras, receiving the
recruits, who, summoned by the first
signal of danger, were now pouring to
the Rio Grande. The means of ad
vance had also to be collected, and the
force organized to pursue the enemy in
the interior. Monterey to the west, at
the foot of the Sierra Madre, where
General Ampudia, who had succeeded
Arista in the command, had established
himself with a considerable body of
troops, was the first object of attack.
Sending forward his forces by the Rio
Grande to Camargo, General Taylor
thence pursued his way across the
desert, reaching the San Juan, in the
immediate neighborhood of Monterey,
on the nineteenth of September. From
that moment the brave and toilsome
operations of the attack, which was con
tinued for five days, may be said to have
commenced. The town, thoroughly ca
pable of defence, was manned by a gar
rison of ten thousand men, more than
two-thirds of whom were regular troops,
with a defence of forty-two pieces of
cannon ; its outworks were important,
and the most extensive preparations of
barricades and batteries were made
within. The entire force General Tay

lor brought against it, numbered six
thousand, six hundred and seventy-five.
He had no siege train, which might be
thought indispensable to the work he
was about to undertake, and an artillery
force of only one ten-inch mortar, two
twenty-four pounder howitzers, and
four light field batteries of four guns
each. The first observation of the town
convinced General Taylor that it
might be turned on its westerly side,
where the only means of escape to its
occupants lay in the road to Saltillo.
There were important detached works
on that side, but the main defences
were in the citadel on the north, the
river and a series of redoubts on the
southerly and easterly approaches. The
reconnaisance was made after General
Taylor's arrival on the nineteenth ; on
the twentieth, General Worth moved
with his command toward the Saltillo
road to carry out the plan of the com
mander-in-chief. The latter himself
directed the proceedings on the east.
The main points, and they were highly
important ones, accomplished by Gene
ral Worth on that day of hard fighting,
the twenty-first, were the occupation
of the road, and the storming of the
works at the heights, adjacent to the
city on the west. Turning to General
Taylor's special command, we find him
at the same time directing an attack
on the opposite side of the town, which
was conducted with such gallantry, in
the face of a murderous cross-fire from
the forts, that the streets of the city
were gained, and the roof of one of its
buildings taken advantage of to assail
Avith musketry the defenders of the

240

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

fort commanding this approach, which
was also attacked from the outer side.
Under this combination the fort fell.
It was the important success of the
day. In General Taylor's words, "the
main object proposed in the morning
had been effected. A powerful diver
sion had been made to favor the opera
tions of the second division (General
Worth's) ; one of the enemy's advanced
works had been carried, and we now
had a strong foothold in the town."
The loss in achieving this result, may
indicate the gallantry with which it
was accomplished. The number killed
and wounded, in these operations in
the lower part of the city that day, was
three hundred and ninety-four. The
next, the twenty-second, saw the com
pletion of General Worth's design in
the capture of the Bishop's Palace on
Independence Hill, that work being
commanded by the position he had
stormed the day before. General Tay
lor employed the day in relieving his
troops who had passed the night on
the lower side of the town, and main
taining his advantages in that quarter.
It was now evident that the city, being
commanded from either end, must in
due time surrender. The military event
of the twenty-third, the third great
day of the siege, was the advance into
the town of the volunteers under Gen
erals Quitman and Henderson, sup
ported by Captain Bragg's battery.
From house to house, from square to
square, the advance against the strong
barriers Avas gained by musketry from
the roofs, by grape-shot in the streets,
to a position but a single square dis

tant from the principal plaza, where
the enemy's force was mainly concen
trated. A similar advance was made into
the city from the opposite side by
General Worth. The work of the next
day, had it been necessary to continue
the assault, would have been a last,
short, bloody, decisive struggle. For
tunately, it was spared by a capitula
tion. The outcries of the townspeople,
no less than the necessities of the gar
rison, compelled the surrender. On
the morning of the twenty-fourth, a
communication was received by Gene
ral Taylor from General Ampudia,
stating that having made the defence
of which he thought the city suscepti
ble, he had "fulfilled his duty, and
satisfied that military honor which, in
a certain manner, is common to all
armies of the civilized world." To
continue the defence, he said, would
only be further to distress the pop
ulation which had suffered enough
already: he, therefore, proposed to
evacuate the city and fort, carrying
with him the personnel and materiel of
war. In answer to this, a complete
surrender of the town and garrison as
prisoners of war was demanded; but
such surrender, it was added, would be
upon terms recognizing by their libe
rality " the gallant defence of the place,
creditable alike to the Mexican troops
and nation." The hour of tAvelve Avas
appointed to determine the question.
At that time the tAVO chiefs met to
arrange the terms of surrender. Gen
eral Ampudia, not satisfied with the
proposition offered, insisted upon his
original conditions; and General Tay-

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

211

lor, who had made lip his, mind, was in
consequence on the point of breaking
up the conference, when a suggestion
was offered and reluctantly accepted
by him, to refer the negotiation to a
body of commissioners on both sides.
General Worth, General Henderson,
and Colonel Jefferson Davis acted for
the Americans. With some, difficulty
the terms were arranged. The town
and citadel, with the arms and muni
tions of war were surrendered, the
Mexican forces to retire — the officers
with their side arms, the cavalry with
their arms and accoutrements, the artil
lery, with one field battery — within
seven days beyond the line formed by
the pass of Linconada, tho city of
Linares and San Fernando de Preras ;
and an armistice of eight weeks to be
entered upon. The Mexican flag, when
struck at the citadel, was to be saluted
by its own battery. That ceremony
was performed on the morning of the
tAventy-fifth. The American flag Avas
unfolded, and the Mexican troops took
their departure. It was a brilliant suc
cess in the taking of a town. Its cost,
as summed up by General Taylor in
his dispatch, was tAvelve officers and
one hundred and eight men killed;
thirty-one officers and three hundred
and thirty-seven men wounded.
It was thought by the government
at Washington that too favorable terms
had been allowed the enemy in the
capitulation, that their surrender should
have been unconditional, and that the
armistice should not have been granted.
But those who made the negotiation
were governed by sound motives, both
of policy and humanity They might,

indeed, have completed the conquest at
the plaza and taken the citadel ; but it
would have been at an enormous cost
of life, both to. victors and vanquished ;
much property would have been de
stroyed which was saved by the nego
tiation ; nor had General Taylor a force
sufficient to guard all the avenues. of
escape to so great a body of men.
Moreover, the prospect of peace was
urged by the Mexican General in con
sequence of the return of Santa Anna,
which had been more than winked at,
with this view, by the American gov
ernment itself, which had indeed pre
viously proffered peace negotiations.
As for the armistice, the little army at
Monterey was at any rate unable to
move for some time, until reinforce
ments should arrive, upon any further
considerable expedition into the inte
rior. It had but ten days' rations at
the time of the capitulation, and had
been all along, deficient in wagons. So
that, on many grounds, the negotiation
of General Taylor was to be justified.
These military successes, however
brilliant as they were, were unproduc
tive of the desirable result of "con
quering a peace" from the enemy
The very humiliation which they in
flicted, only roused the spirit of the
country to greater resistance, and what
ever peace intentions General Santa
Anna, now placed at the head of
affairs, had when he landed at Vera
Cruz, he was clearly unable to cany
them out while the Americans were
thus constantly victorious. For the
purposes of the war, it might have
been good policy of the invaders to
have suffered a defeat, to humor na-

17®

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

tional pride and smooth the way to
negotiation and concession. Defeat
was not, however, a word to be found
in the military vocabulary of Old Zach.
He had an indomitable, unreasoning
soldier's logic, which led him by a very
short path to one single conclusion, that
victory was the business of war ; and
well or ill provided with such resources
as he had, in the\ face of whatever
obstacles might be in the way, he went
straight forward to that result. He
made no noisy demonstrations, but
took his ground boldly and fought to
the end. His last battle was to crown
the whole.
The circumstances under which the
engagement at Buena Vista was fought,
render it the most memorable of the
whole campaign. The government at
Washington having come to the con
clusion that their system of border
attack, however well pursued, would
not end the war, determined to strike
at the heart of the country, its capital,
by its great avenue of approach, the
line of Vera Cruz. In the month of
November, General Scott was ordered
to the Gulf of Mexico to take such
measures, as in his judgment he might
think proper, to carry the resolution
into effect. General Taylor, in this
arrangement, was to be left on the Rio
Grande, with a force barely sufficient
to maintain a defensive position, while
he yielded to Scott, for his more bril
liant service, the best part of his troops,
the tried regulars who had fought with
him from Corpus Christi along the line
of battles to Monterey General Scott
arrived at the Rio Grande about the
first of January, 1847, and began to

collect the forces for his expedition.
The important divisions of General
Worth, Twiggs, Quitman, and other
choice troops, artillery and volunteers, -
were stripped from General Taylor's
command, and his plan of operations at
Victoria and other advanced places
in the interior entirely broken up.
Nothing further was expected of him
than to defend himself at Monterey,
should Santa Anna, who was in great
force at San Luis Potosi, extend his
movements in that direction. The
Mexican General, who had become
aware of the plans of his foe by an
intercepted dispatch, was thought more
likely to turn his attention to the
intended landing at Vera Cruz. He
determined, however, to strike a blow
with his large, army, which seemed
quite sufficient to sweep every Ameri
can from the neighborhood of the Rio
Grande. He accordingly marched with
his twenty thousand men toward the
position, in the vicinity of Saltillo, of
General Taylor and his bands of volun
teers. Among the latter was the new
and important command of General
Wool, Avhich had just reached the
scene of action from an overland march
through Texas; To this officer belongs
the credit of the selection of the pass
where the Americans so well defended
themselves: it was his fortune, being
left in command at the point, to open
the battle ; and to him were specially
entrusted some of the most important
movements of the day. It Avas an
admirably chosen ground for defence,
a narroAV valley enclosed on either
hand by lofty mountains, with seamed

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

243

and broken ground, with the passage
on the road additionally protected by
a river course and deep ravine at its side.
The best naturally guarded ground of
the whole, where the mountain on one
side and the ravine on the other ap
proached nearest each other, the Pass
of Angostura, was that taken for the
American stand. There, on the morn
ing of the twenty-second of February,
Washington's birthday, as the enemy
made his appearance, the road was
defended by a battery of eight guns,
supported on either hand by companies
of infantry. The remaining troops
were placed, in advantageous positions,
on a .plateau and amidst the ravines,
across the whole breadth of the valley.
These dispositions were made by Gene
ral Wool, General Taylor having been
during the night at Saltillo, to provide
against- a threatened attack in that
quarter. He presently came up, bring
ing with him additional troops, and
assumed the command.
At. eleven o'clock, a summons was
received from Santa Anna to surrender.
" You are surrounded," was the lan
guage of this communication, "by
twenty thousand men, and cannot, in
any human probability, avoid suffering
a rout and being cut to pieces with
your troops; but as you deserve con
sideration and particular esteem, I wish
to save you from a catastrophe, and for
that purpose give you this notice, in
order, that you may surrender at dis
cretion, under the assurance that you
will be treated with the consideration
belonging to the Mexican character, to
which end you will be granted an
hour's time to make up your mind, to

commence from the moment when my
flag of truce arrives in your camp ;" to
all which considerate attention, Za
chary Taylor sent the following brief
sentence — " Sir : In reply to your note
of this date, summoning me to .sur
render my forces at discretion, I beg ,
leave to say that I decline acceding to
your request." So the battle was in
augurated. There was some skirmish
ing in the afternoon, as the Mexicans
felt their way preparatory to the action
of the twenty-third. General Taylor
again passed the night at Saltillo, his
presence there being necessary to as
sure the defence of the place which
was now more seriously threatened.
Before his return to the pass, the ene
my, at daylight, had commenced their
attack. It was made with great force,
and with varying success. There was
danger of the American position being
completely turned, but by a series
of skillful manoeuvres, admirably exe
cuted, and sustained by the artillery
and companies of volunteers, the ene
my was driven back.
An incident occurred in this re
pulse, which for its bearing upon
the personal character of General Tay
lor, may be separated from the mass
of details of this engagement lying
before us. "It was during this re
treat," says Mr. Dawson in his account
of the action, "that two thousand
Mexicans, anxious to escape the fire in
their rear, as well as a destructive fire
on their flank from the troops on the
plateau, had sought shelter in the
recesses of the mountains, and were
huddled together in a helpless, disor
derly mass. At this moment the good-

244

ZACHARY TAYLOR

ness of General Taylor's heart inter
ceded in their, behalf, notwithstanding
they were enemies;. and he hesitated
before sacrificing a single life — even
that of an enemy— unnecessarily. With
the merciful desire of saving life, there
fore, he dispatched Lieutenant -Critten
den, his aid-de-camp, with a flag, and
demanded the surrender of the party ;
but instead of complying with the
demand, the Mexicans availed them
selves of the opportunity afforded them,
and marched out of the gorge, while
the troops under General Wool, under
orders from General Taylor, silently
looked on, without being permitted to
fire a shot, or take a step to prevent
their escape." x
One last effort was left to be di
rected by Santa Anna himself. Ral
lying his forces for an overwhelm
ing attack on the central "plateau, he
would have gained that important
position liad he not been met by
the American artillery, the Mississippi
rifles, and other companies suddenly
brought into position against him. It
was on this occasion that General Tay
lor, as the fortune of the day stood in
the balance, coolly uttered his memora
ble advice to his artillerist, " A little
more grape, Captain Bragg ! " Let him
tell the story in the usual simple words
of his own rdispatch, where we may be
sure we shall hear nothing of this dra
matic point. "The moment was most
critical. Captain O'Brien, with two
pieces, had sustained the heavy charge
to the last, and was finally obliged to
leave his guns on the field — his infantry
1 Battles of the United States, II. 496.

support being entirely routed. Cap
tain Bragg, who had just arrived from
the left, was ordered at once into bat
tery. Without any infantry to support
him, and at the imminent risk of losing
his guns, this officer came rapidly into
action, the Mexican line being but a
few yards from the muzzle of his pieces.
The first discharge of canister caused
the enemy to hesitate ; the second and
third drove him back in disorder and
saved the day." There were other ser
vices rendered in the final repulse, but
for them and the merits of particular
officers and companies in the battle, we
must refer the reader to the various
dispatches and military narratiy.es of
the day.
Let one brief passage from General
Taylor's narrative declare the spirit
which ruled the gallant bands of volun
teers, nearly all for the first time under
fire on that occasion. " No further
attempt," he writes in his official ac
count, " was made by the enemy to
force our position, and the approach of
night gave an opportunity to pay pro
per attention to the wounded, and also
to refresh the soldiers, who had been
exhausted by incessant watchfulness
and combat. Though the night was
severely cold, the troops were compelled
for the most to bivouac without fires,
expecting that morning would renew the
conflict. During the night the wound
ed were removed to Saltillo, and every
preparation made to receive the enemy
should he again attack our position."
The enemy, however, made no such
attempt. Leaving his wounded on the
way, he made good his retreat to San
Luis Potosi. The few figures Avith

_J

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

245

which the stories of all battles end will
tell better than aught else the heroism
of the brave encounter. The American
force engaged Avas three hundred, and
thirty-four officers and four thousand
four hundred and twenty-five men, of
which two squadrons of cavalry and
three batteries of light artillery, making
not more than four hundred and fifty-
three men, composed the only force of
regular troops. The Mexican forces,
we have seen stated by Santa Anna
himself, at twenty thousand, an esti
mate confirmed by all subsequent in
formation. The American loss was two
hundred and sixty-seven killed, four
hundred and fifty-six wounded and
twenty-three missing. The Mexican
loss was computed by General Taylor
at between fifteen hundred and two
thousand. At least five hundred killed
were left on the field of battle.
Thus closed General Taylor's connec
tion with the active operations of the
Mexican War. He was for some time
engaged in camp duties, Avhen he re
quested leave of absence to attend to
the duties of his plantations on the
Mississippi. His home was at Baton
Rouge, Louisiana, the residence also of
his estimable son-in-law the late Colonel
Bliss, a member of his staff during his
Mexican campaigns.
The battle of Buena Vista, was, as
we have seen, fought at the end of
Februaiy, 1847. Just two years from
that time, March 4, 1849, its brave and
modest commander was installed as
President of the United States at Wash
ington. The two events may safely be
put in conjunction, for one proceeded
directly out of the other. General Tay-
v— 31

lor, as Senator Benton remarked, was
the first President elected upon a repu
tation purely military. He had been
in the army from his youth, and, ac
cording to the custom of officers of the
army, had not even voted at an elec
tion. He was selected, of course, on
account of his availability; yet it Avas
an availability which did not rest alto
gether on his purely military character.
" It will be a great mistake," said Dan
iel Webster to the Senate, " to suppose
that he owed his advancement to high
civil trust, or his great acceptableness
with the people to military talent or
ability ' alone. Associated with the
highest admiration for those qualities
possessed by him, there was spread
throughout the community a high de
gree of confidence and faith in his in
tegrity, and honor, and uprightness as
a man. I believe he was especially
regarded as both a firm and a mild
man in the exercise of authority ; and I
have observed more than once, in this
and in other popular governments, that
the prevalent motive with the masses
of mankind for conferring high honors
on individuals is a confidence in their
mildness, their paternal, protecting, pru
dent and safe character." This was
well said. Every word is in harmony
with the popular appreciation of Gen
eral Taylor; and there are doubtless.
many living in Mexico, as Avell as in his
own country, who would respond to
the sentiment. The soldier who could
pause in the midst of such a day as that
of Buena Vista to arrest the tide of
slaughter, when slaughter was self-pre
servation, with the deed of mercy we
have recorded, must be entitled to no

246

ZACHARY TAYLOR.

common meed of praise on the ground
of humanity. But something more was
added by his eminent eulogist. "I
suppose," said Mr. Webster, " that no
case ever happened, in the very best
days of the Roman republic, when a
man found himself clothed with the
highest authority in the. state under
circumstances more repelling all suspi
cion of personal application, of pur
suing any crooked path in politics, or
of having been actuated by sinister
views and purposes, than in the case of
this worthy, and eminent, and distin
guished, and good man." 1
The circumstance that Mr. Webster
was himself a candidate before the
Whig convention, which nominated
General Taylor for the Presidency, adds
weight to these assertions. Mr. Cass
was the opposing democratic candidate.
The vote of the electors was one hun
dred and sixty-three to one hundred
and twenty-seven.
Of the qualities of his short admi
nistration of the office, let a member of
the party opposed to his election speak.
The late Senator Benton says : " His
brief career showed no deficiency of
political wisdom for want of previous
1 Remarks in the Senate on the death of General Tay-
•or. — Webster's Works, p. 409.

political training. He came into the
administration at a time of great diffi
culty, and acted up to the emergency
of his position. . . . His death was
a public calamity. No man could have
been more devoted to the Union, or
more opposed to the slavery agitation ;
and his position as a Southern man,
and a slaveholder — bis military repu
tation and his election by a majority
of the people and of the States — would
have given him a power in the settle
ment of these questions which no Pre
sident without these qualifications could
have possessed. In- the political divi
sion he classed with the Whig party ;
but his administration, as far as it went,
was applauded by the democracy, and
promised to be so to the end of his offi
cial term. Dying at the head of the
government, a national lamentation be
wailed his departure from life and
power, and embalmed his memory in
the affections of his country."1
General Taylor died at Washington,
at the Presidential mansion, July 9,
1850, of a fever contracted by exposure
to the intense heat of the sun, in attend
ance upon the ceremonies of the Day
of Independence.
1 Bonton's Thirty Tears View, II. M5-6.

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JAMES KNOX POLK.

The eleventh President of the United
States was born in Mecklenburg county,
North Carolina, in the vicinity of the
county town of Charlotte, November 2,
1795. He was of Scoto-Irish descent,
the name being said to have been ori
ginally Pollock in Scotland. Robert
Polk, the first American ancestor of
the family, emigrated from Ireland
about the middle of the eighteenth
century. He came to Maryland, and
was temporarily established, with his
children, on the eastern shore ; thence
his sons removed first to the interior of
Pennsylvania, and afterward to the
more permanent settlement in North
Carolina. In this frontier district, in
the western part of the State, border
ing on South Carolina, in the region
bounded by the parallel streams of the
Yadkin and the Catawba, the three
sons of Thomas Polk, Thomas, Ezekiel
and Charles, found a home, in the
midst of a sturdy, independent popula
tion, who cariied the virtues of order,
sobriety, and secular and religious edu
cation to the borders of what was then
the Indian wilderness. Two of these
brothers, Thomas and Ezekiel, became
distinguished in the early annals of the
Revolution, in those measures of pro
test and resistance which placed North
Carolina in the foremost rank of State

patriotism. Thomas Polk was put for
ward as the leader of these indepen
dent mountaineers. He was colonel of
the militia, and had been a surveyor
and member of the colonial assembly.
It was at his call that a convention of
the citizens of the region, delegates of
the militia districts, assembled at Char
lotte on the 19th of May, 1775, to
deliberate on the crisis at hand. While
they were assembled, it is said, news
was brought by a post rider of the
bloody day at Lexington. The meet
ing was stimulated to action, and ex
pressed its resolve in the famous
Mecklenburgh Declaration of Indepen
dence, which curiously anticipated, in
its spirit and even a portion of its lan
guage, the words of the great national
instrument from the pen of Jefferson.
Thomas Polk was a master-spirit in
these transactions.
His nephew Samuel, son of Ezekiel,
was the father of the future President.
He was a farmer " of unassuming pre
tensions, but of enterprising character."
His wife, who gave her family name to
her son, was the daughter of James
Knox, who became captain in the
military service of the Revolution.
In 1806, when their son. James was
about eleven years old, the family
tempted by the accounts of western

247

248

JAMES KNOX POLK.

lands, removed across the mountains
into the adjoining state of Tennessee,
and settled on the banks of Duck
river. In this region, the boyhood of
the future President was passed in
the hardy pursuits of a farmer's life,
spent in subduing the land to the pur
poses of cultivation. His health, how
ever, was not robust, and his father,
thinking perhaps that less demand
would be made upon his physical
powers, procured him employment at
first with a store-keeper. The occupa
tion was not to the youth's taste; he
was of a reflective turn, fond of read
ing, and his mind had been led to
study by witnessing his father's occu
pations as a surveyor. He desired to
leave merchandize — his wish was grant
ed — and at the age of eighteen, he
applied himself regularly to study, at
first under the care of the Rev. Dr. Hen
derson, and afterward at the academy
of Murfreesborough in the State, in
charge of Mr. Samuel P. Black, a man of
valuable classical acquirements. With
these advantages and diligent applica
tion, the pupil in 1815 entered the
Sophomore Class of the University of
North Carolina, at Chapel Hill.
He distinguished himself in his col
lege course by his punctual, earnest ap
plication and proficiency in his studies.
He became the foremost scholar both in
mathematics, for which he had a natu
ral liking, and in the classics. He
graduated in 1818 with the highest
honors, delivering the Latin salutatory
oration. He was then twenty-three,
some two or three years older than the
great majority of the crowd who are
sent out annually as bachelors of arts;

but the later preparation was doubt
less an advantage to him in the greater
maturity of his powers. Our college
studies, in fact, would be far better
pursued by older students, more tho
roughly grounded in the introductory
apprenticeship to learning. The work
of education, if accomplished at all, is
in most cases, we are persuaded, to be
begun over again by the pupil himself
after the so called university course is
ended. Mr. Polk carried his duties
with him into active life; they were
always self-imposed, and were with
him a living reality
After taking his degree, though ill
health pleaded for a relaxation from
his diligent application to books, we
find him soon commencing the study
of the law with Felix Grundy, the
eminent legal pioneer of the west, then
established in the fullness of his pro
fessional career at Nashville, with the
additional eclat of successful statesman
ship at Washington, as a member of
the committee of Foreign Relations in
the war administration of Madison.
Association with such a preceptor, a
man of vigorous mind, who had achieved
distinction by the force of his own cha
racter, must doubtless have exercised a
leading influence upon a young man
who had already given proof of his
triumph over ordinarily adverse for
tunes. Pursuing his legal studies for
two years, he was in 1820 admitted to
the bar, and returned from Nashville
to pursue the profession in the region
of his home at Columbia. His success.
based upon his thorough acquisitions
and the influence of his family associa
tions., for there were numerous erni-

JAMBS KNOX POLK.

249

grants of .his stock to the district, was
so rapid that in less than a year he was
acknowledged as a leading practitioner.
He ,bad, already acquired fame and pro
fit at the bar, when, in 1823, he had
his first introduction to political life,
or rather office, as a member from his
county of Maury in the State legisla
ture. A lawyer in the west at that
time,, and the remark may be applied
more or less to the present day, was of
necessity something of a politician, and
we hear of Mr. Polk assisting the tradi
tionary tendencies and conduct of his
family by his earnest advocacy of the
democratic policy. He was often called
upon to address political gatherings,
and acquitted himself, we are told,
with credit and favor by a plain use
of argument, without resort to the
taudry and meretricious ornaments in
which popular speakers so often feel
themselves called upon to indulge.
The success, in fact, of his life Avas
due to quite other qualities — to his
simple, sincere, straightforward charac
ter, and the confidence those w^.° knew
him derived from his manners and
conduct. Mr. Polk remained two years in the
Tennessee legislature, in the course of
which he had the opportunity of ren
dering important service to his early
friend, Andrew Jackson, in his elec
tion to the senate of the United
States. Mr. Polk, at this time, was
married to the daughter of Joel Chil
dress, a merchant of Tennessee, a lady
whose virtues and graces, in public
and private life, in the prominent
social theatre at Washington, are grate
fully held in esteem by the nation. In '

1825, Mr. Polk was elected a member
of congress, took his seat in December,
and was continued a member of that
body for fourteen years. No one du
ring this period was more completely
identified with its proceedings. It
embraced the vigorous period of his
life, from thirty to forty-four. He ap
peared on the floor of the House of
Representatives, the representative, in
all their integrity and. severity, of the
creed of strict construction which had
grown out of the doctrines of the old
Republican Jeffersonian party He was
opposed to the recharter of the Bank
of the United States, to a protective
tariff, to wasteful expenditures in inter
nal improvements ; he advocated econo
my in the government. In all questions
arising from the discussions, he was a
zealous, persistent supporter of his
party. In 1827, he was placed on- the
committee of foreign affairs; and du
ring the administration of General
Jackson, as head of the committee of
ways and means, rendered the Presi
dent the most important assistance in
his vigorously conducted war against
the United States Bank. His other
more prominent position in the House
was as speaker, to which he was elected
at the opening of the session in 1835,
and again at the session of 1837, with
the conclusion of which he retired from
congress, declining a reelection.
The four years, during which he pre
sided over the deliberations of the
House, were marked by strong political
excitement, and the duties of the office
had grown, with the increase of con
gress, to be of a more arduous charac
ter. . Through all discussions, however,

250

JAMES KNOX POLK.

Mr. Polk pursued his steady, calm, in
flexible course,, always present, the
most punctual man in the House, task
ing his powers, it seemed to the stranger
looking on the excited scene, beyond
his strength, educing order out of chaos,
dividing the knotty questions of debate
with the skill and. impartiality of an
acute mind well practised in parlia
mentary logic. The importance of the
position has been more than once
shown, since Mr. Polk's discharge of
the office, in the protracted struggles
at the commencement of new sessions
of the House in the equal division of
parties. It must always be regarded
as a most distinguishing honor for any
man, and the ability and energy of
Mr. Polk will be honorably remembered
in its annals.
, That Mr. Polk himself held a no less
high sense of the dignity of his position
may be gathered from the language in
which he took leave of the House on
the adjournment of that body in 1839.
His brief review of his duties presents
an extraordinary picture of duty faith
fully performed and as honorably ap
preciated. " When I look back to the
period," was his language, " when I first
took my seat in this House, and then
look around me for those who were at
that time my associates here, I find but
feAV, very few, remaining. But five
members who were here with me four
teen years ago> continue to be members
of this body -My service here has been
constant and laborious. I can perhaps
say what but what few others, if any,
can, that I have not failed to attend
the daily sittings of this House a single
day since I have been a member of it,

save on a single occasion, when pro
vented for a short time by indisposi
tion. In my intercourse with the mem
bers of this body, when I occupied a
place upon the floor, though occasion
ally engaged in debates upon interest
ing public questions and of an exciting
character, it is a source of unmingled
gratification to me to recur to the fact,
that on no occasion was there the
slightest personal or unpleasant colli
sion with any of its members. Main
taining, and at all times expressing, my
own opinions firmly, the same right
was fully conceded to others. For four
years past, the station I have occupied,
and a sense of propriety, in the divided
and unusually exciting state of public
opinion and feeling, which has existed
both in this House and the countiy,
have precluded me from participating
in your debates. Other duties were
assigned me.
" The high office of Speaker, to which
it has been twice the pleasure of the
House to elevate me, has been at all.
times one of labor and high responsi
bility. It has been made my duty to
decide more questions of parliamentary
law and order, many of them of a com
plex and difficult character, arising
often in the midst of high excitement,
in the course of our proceedings, than
had been decided, it is believed, by all
my predecessors, from the foundation
of the government. This House has
uniformly sustained me, vrithout dis
tinction of the political parties of which
it has been composed. I return them
my thanks for their constant support
in the discharge of the duties I have
had to perform. ... I trust this

JAMES KNOX POLK.

251

high office may in future times be
filled, as doubtless it will be, by abler
men. It cannot, I know, be filled by
any one who will devote himself with
more zeal and untiring industry to do
his whole duty, than I have done."
Mr. Polk had hardly reached his
home in Tennessee after his retirement
from Congress, when he engaged in a
diligent canvassing of the State as a can
didate for governor at the approaching
election. He was untiring in his devo
tion to his object, and so successful was
his energy, that he gained the election
over his opponent, the incumbent of the
office. His inaugural address, deli
vered at Nashville in October, 1839, a
remarkably clear and well-written com
position, reviewed the leading distinc
tive principles of his party — the strict
interpretation of the Constitution, in
reference to express and implied pow
ers ; the unconstitutionality and dangers
of a national bank; the evil of a surplus
Federal revenue; the inviolability of
slavery by Congress in the slave-hold
ing States, and other well known posi
tions. In his own State he encouraged
and assisted a "well regulated system
of internal improvement." His admi
nistration was generally well received ;
but when the time came for reelection,
he shared the fortunes of his party and
suffered a defeat. It was the moment
of the popular whig triumph of Gene
ral Harrison ; two years later his rival,
Governor James C. Jones, was again
successful in the contest.
The next turn of the political wheel
carried ex-Governor Polk to the Presi
dency. A decided letter, written by
him in favor of the annexation of Texas,

brought him favorably before the Bal
timore Convention of May, 1844, when.
that nominating body had exhausted
the roll of prior candidates. On the
ninth ballot, after Van Buren, Cass and
others had been set aside, he received
the requisite two-thirds vote and be
came the candidate of the party. In
accepting the nomination, he avowed
his intention, in the event of his elec
tion, not to be a candidate for a second
term. The contest between the two
tickets, Polk and Dallas, Clay and
Frelinghuysen, resulted in the electoral
college in a majority for the former
ticket of sixty-five. Fifteen States voted
for Polk ; eleven, and among them Ten
nessee, by a small majority, for Clay.
The successful candidate was duly in
augurated at Washington in March,
1845. The leading measures, or rather the
chief events, of Polk's administration of
the Presidency were the adjustment of
the Oregon question with England, and
the War with Mexico. In the former
he took ground in his inaugural and
annual message, in accordance with the
resolutions of the Baltimore nominating
convention, in favor of the claim to
the whole of the territory, a position
which, while maintaining his view of
the matter, he in a measure yielded to
the will of the Senate in their accept
ance of the terms of the British govern
ment. The treaty was signed in June,
1846. A month before this, Congress
officially recognized, by its declaration,
the existence of war with Mexico. Of
the events of that war, of which Presi
dent Polk must be considered the in
fluential agent, it is not necessary here

252

JA.MES KNOX POLK.

to speak in detail. Its progress was,
.upon the whole, so honorable to the
arms of the country, as victory after
victory was chronicled in the move
ments of the great campaigns of Taylor
and Scott, and the conduct of the war,
at its termination, was so moderate in
imposing the conditions of peace at an
early moment, that much of the Oppo
sition to its commencement was happily
neutralized. The immediate settlement
of California, and its brilliant progress
in civilization, under the stimulus of the
gold discovery, have also thrown a halo
over the war. Its ulterior effects are
yet to be read in history; but, what
ever be the result, the date of the acqui
sition of so wide a region of territory
bordering upon the great ocean of the
West, and so rounding the world to the
fabled regions of the East, and its influ
ence upon the welfare of countless
numbers of the human race, will always
mark the period of the administration
of President Polk. Of the unexpected
results of the war, probably the least
looked for was the development of one
of its least known officers at the outset,
into " his successor in the presidential
chair. President Polk, having accom
panied General Taylor to the inaugural
ceremonies at the capitol on the fifth
of March, 1849, retired to his home at
Nashville, taking Charleston and New
Orleans by the way. He made the
journey in safety, though an attack of
diarrhsea, in his ascent of the Missis
sippi, and the inevitable fatigue of tra
vel, probably somewhat, enfeebled his

powers. He reached home to occupy
the mansion and grounds in the heart
of the city, formerly occupied by Sena
tor Grundy, of which he had become
the purchaser ; but he was not destined
to enjoy them long. -An attack of the
chronic diarrhsea to which he was sub
ject proved unmanageable by his phy
sicians, and after a few days' illness his
powers of life were exhausted. His
death took place on the fifteenth of
June, 1849, in his fifty-fourth year, little
more than three months after his retire
ment from the Presidency.
In person Mr. Polk was spare, of
the middle height, with a bright,
expressive eye, and ample, angular
forehead. Of his personal character
we may cite the words of his biog
rapher: "He was simple and plain in
all his habits. His private life was
upright and blameless. Honesty and
integrity characterized his intercourse
with his fellow men ; fidelity and affec
tion his relations to his family In his
friendships he was frank and sincere;
and courteous and affable in his dispo
sition. He was generous and benevo
lent ; but his charities, like his charac
ter, were unostentatious. He was pious,
too, sincerely ; his wife was a member
of the Presbyterian church, but he
never united with any denomination,
though on his dying bed he received
the rite of baptism at the hands of a
Methodist clergyman, an old neighbor
and friend." 1

1 The Life of James Knox Polk, by John S. Joukins.

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RUFUS CHOATE.

Few legal practitioners, who have
been so exclusively devoted to their
profession, have acquired the 'popular
reputation which followed the man, as
it will long attach itself to the memory
of Rufus Choate. The bar, even in its
more intelligible exhibitions — those
likely to interest the sympathies and
arouse the admiration of a general
audience — has but 'a limited field for
display. Like the " momentary graces "
of the actor, much of the success of the
advocate blazes and expires on the in
stant. The spectators in a court room
are moved ; the judge, perhaps, relaxes
his official dignity in the restrained
tribute of a smile, or a frown a little
loss severe ; and the jury may melt in
a body, victims to the resistless cun
ning or eloquence of the pleader. But
how little of all these triumphant ex
ertions — this acting and applause, the
wit, the humor, the skill, the judgment,
the readiness of mind — leave the hall
Avith the retiring advocate. ' At most a
general reputation is gained — all-im
portant indeed to the man of law, for
his success will bring him flocks of
clients, trusting their lives and fortunes
to his powers, and opening their purses
with ever increasing prodigality and
alacrity ; but how scant is the material
for biography in the cash-book of the

counsellor. A few anecdotes of his
brilliancy linger awhile among the liti
gants and his fellow members of the
bar ; the dashing pleader retires to give
place to other expenders of breath in
the ceaseless service of injured fortunes
and reputations ; and all that is left of
the bubbling vanity of fame is the label
on the empty bottle denoting the costly
vintage which once sparkled within.
The wine has been poured out, quaffed
with enthusiasm, set the table in a roar,
and the banqueters have long since
taken their departure. Such, for the
most part, is professional success. Jf a
record is kept by the court reporter,
the drier portions of the argument only
will be preserved, studiously stripped
of their rhetorical ornaments, and
though, to members of the profession,
there can be no greater mental luxury
than the technical intricacies of a pro
tracted legal disputation, such reading,
it must be equally admitted, has never
been found peculiarly attractive to. the
public at large. In family libraries
very few of those books are seen on the
shelves for which, as a special warning,
the wisdom of ages has provided a pe
culiar covering of bleached cait, which
can be detected on the instant. Many
men thinking themselves Avell inform
ed, familiar with Shakspeare and Mil-

ii.-

-32

26B

KOTTJS CHOATE.

ton, Scott and Macaulay, pass through
the world solacing their imaginations
with the luxuries of literature and dis
tributing freely their mental graces to
their friends, without having sat twenty
waking minutes with a volume of Re
ports in their hands during their entire
earthly existence.
Lawyers, it must be admitted, are
indifferent guardians of one another's
fame. Perhaps, as their life is spent in
exposing delusions and stripping off
vanities, they think this also of the
number. Yet it might be well were it
otherwise — if every great practitioner
had his Boswell, sedulous and on the
alert to catch the fugitive felicities of
the instant. Unfortunately, talent of
this kind is rare, for it is a peculiar
sort of ability, requiring a very nice
combination of mental faculties; and
the disposition to employ it is too often
rewarded with a sneer in place of a
plaudit. The return made to Boswell,
the type of the tribe, is not, upon the
whole, a pleasing one, or likely to fas
cinate noble minds to follow his exam
ple. Yet the world should not be so
fastidious toward so great a benefactor.
Virtually, English life and literature
are indebted to him for one of their
greatest celebrities.
We are not about to compare a re
cent biographer of Mr. Choate with the
immortal Bozzy, either in his strength
or in his weaknesses, nor Avas Mr.
Choate himself " a great Cham of ' ite-
rature;1' but we may congratulate our
selves in possessing the volume entitled
"Reminiscences of Rufus Choate, the
great American Advocate, by Edward
G. Parker," as an interesting Boswellian

contribution to American literatura
Good taste may except to occasional
expressions— we do not quite like the
adjectives on the title page, they are
hackneyed, and prejudge the case ; per
haps they would look better at the end
of the volume — but we should be un
grateful indeed if, after traversirg so
many waste pages of history, denuded
of personal life, we did not express our
thanks to this most persevering anec-
dotical writer. With the exception,
perhaps, of Daniel Webster, no advo
cate has been better served in this
respect; and Webster, it must be re
membered, had larger opportunities for
notice as a politician and statesman.
Nor are we disposed to say much
against Mr. Parker's apparent exagge
rations, wild and reckless as he is,
among the bland amenities of Boston
biography. His superlatives will cor
rect themselves. It is something of an
index of his subject's character that it,
in a measure, begets this sort of enthu
siasm. It is part of the history of the
man, and has been shared in no small
measure by soberer writers than Mr.
Parker, a gentleman who, as a pupil
and life-long acquaintance of Mr. Choate,
enjoyed peculiar opportunities of trac
ing his career.
Since his, book was issued, another
biography of Mr. Choate has appeared,
calmer and more judicious, from the
pen of an accomplished scholar, Profes
sor Samuel Gilman Brown, of Dart
mouth College, where the memory of
its distinguished alumnus is preserved
Avith affection. This valuable memoir
prefixed to a collection of Mr. Choate's
AATitings, supplies all that can be do

FJTFTTS CHOATE.

85f>

sired to acquaint us with the character
of a man well worthy the sympathetic,
philosophical study the writer has ex
pended upon it.
Rufus Choate was born October 1,
1799, in the old town of Ipswich, Mas
sachusetts, on an island looking out
upon the ocean, the descendant from a
race of New England farmers settled
for more than a century in the country.
His father, David Choate, is described
as "a man of uncommon intellectual
endoAvments, of- sound and independent
judgment, a Avise counsellor, sociable,
sagacious, modest, keen and witty;"
his mother, Miriam Foster, " a quiet,
sedate, but cheerful woman, dignified
in manner, quick in perception, of
strong sense and ready wit." The son
is said to have resembled his mother
" in many characteristics of mind and
person." The father died before his
son Rufus had reached his ninth year ;
the mother lived to an advanced age,
nearly to the termination of that son's
eminent career. The boy early dis
played the exercise of imagination and
the passion for knowledge which dis
tinguished him through life. Stories
of military and naval life made a strong.
impression upon him. He began his ac
quaintance with Latin at the age of ten,
receiving instruction from a physician
who resided in his father's family ; and
continued his studies during a portion of
each year with the parish clergyman or
the teachers of the district school, till he
reached his sixteenth year, when, after
passing a season at the academy in
Hampton, New Hampshire, he was ad
mitted, in the summer of 1815, to the
Freshman class in Dartmouth College.

There, at a time when the institution,
laboring under its famous legal embar
rassments, required and secured the ut
most devotion from its members, we find
him, distinguished among the foremost,
graduating with the highest honors of
his class in due course in 1819. He was
a pale, studious youth, of a poetical tern-
perament, given to books and retirement,
while others were at play, a favorite
with his. fellows, for he had a warm,
generous nature — one of those subtil,
fiery spirits, which to the herd of the
coarse and unintelligent, appear miracles
of genius and learning. His Valedictory
is spoken of as both pathetic and origi
nal, and originality in so prescribed and
commonplace affair as a valedictory is a
sure test of genius. The pathos is said
to have been enhanced to his hearers
by the contrast between his glowing
picture of the future prospects of his
fellow students entering upon life and
his own seeming ill health, which would
arrest him in the race. As a proof of
his scholarship, he was retained for a
, year as a tutor to the college. At the
expiration of this service, he entered
the Dane law school at Cambridge,
where Edward Everett, in his eulogy
in Faneuil Hall, has recalled his studi
ous presence in the alcoves of the li
brary. Thence, after a few months, he
passed to the law office of William
Wirt, then residing at Washington in
the discharge of his duties as attorney-
general of the United States. The as
sociation was one well suited to the
character of the young student, for
Wirt was also a man of enthusiasm and
sensibility, and such intercourse as
passed between them in the year spent

256

RUFUS CHOATE.

by Choate in the office must have been
profitable and endearing. Unhappily,
Wirt was suffering most of the time
from attacks of vertigo, brought on by
over exertion, so that his pupil had not
the opportunity of witnessing his best
forensic efforts. Another great lawyer
was then the talk and wonder at Wash
ington, the accomplished William Pink-
ney, whose resources and elaboration,
his command of language and polished
delivery, with his rhetorical weaknesses,
seem to have been carefully weighed
by Mr. Choate, who was in time to lis
ten to his last forensic effort, before the
Supreme Court, interrupted by the at
tack of illness which carried him off in
a week. The occasional comments on
Pinkney scattered through Mr. Par
ker's " Reminiscences " show the great
impression made upon Mr. Choate's
mind by the admired orator of the bar.
Returning from the South with this
enlarged experience, he completed his
studies with' Judge Cummins of Salem,
was admitted to the bar in 1823, and
began the practice of his profession at
Danrers, in the same county of Essex.
After two or three years he removed to
Salem, and speedily became known as
a rising lawyer of undoubted powers.
His legal acuteness was already mani
fested, and that control of juries in
criminal cases by which he became
afterward so widely celebrated. He
was elected to the State legislature in
1825, and subsequently to the Senate.
In 1830 he was nominated by the Na
tional Republicans of Essex as represen
tative to Congress, and was elected by
a handsome majority. He was also
returned to the succeeding Congress by

the same constituency ; but, having
determined to remove his residence to
Boston, resigned his seat at the close
of the first session. He made a favor
able impression in the House of Repre
sentatives in this troubled period of
public affairs, establishing his reputa
tion as an orator by his speeches on the
Tariff and the Removal of the Deposits ;
but his thoughts were more with his
profession than with politics.
A passage from a letter written to
his friend Professor George Bush short
ly after the issue of President Jackson's
Proclamation against Nullification sets
in a striking light his judgment of that
political heresy. ""The session," he
writes at the end of January, 1833, " is
now one of thrilling interest. Calhoun
is drunk with disappointment ; the
image of an ardent, imaginative, intel
lectual man, who once thought it as
easy to set the stars of glory on his
brow, as to put his hat on ; now ruined,
dishonored. He has to defend the most
contemptible v/nt/ruth in the whole his
tory of human opinion, and no ability
will save him from contempt mentaV/y.
Then he hoped to recover himself by a
brilliant stroke, permanently inserting
nullification into our polity and put
ting himself at the head of a great
Convention of the States — a great mid
night thunder-storm, hail-storm meeting
of witches and demons, round a caldron
big enough to receive the disjecta mem
bra of the Constitution, thence never to
come a whole, still less a blooming,
young and vigorous form. Wherefore
pereat." Abandoning congressional life at
Washington, for the more settled pur

RUFUS CHOATE.

257

pose which he had formed in his
mind, he devoted himself thencefor
ward mainly to the law. He gradually
and surely rose to an eminent position
among his distinguished brethren of the
profession, who learnt to recognize be
neath various peculiarities of manner a
-profound legal mind of the first order.
"Mr. Choate," says his biographer,
Professor Brown, "whose appearance
and manner were unique, whose elo
quence then was as exuberant, fervid
and rich as it ever became ; who, how-
aver modest for himself, was bold al
most to rashness for his client; who
startled court and jury by his vehe
mence, and confounded the common
place and routine lawyer by the novelty
and brilliancy of his tactics ; who, free
from vulgar tricks, was yet full of sur
prises, and though perpetually delight
ing by the novelty and beauty of his
argument, was yet without conceit or
vanity, could not at once be fully un
derstood and appreciated. He fairly
fought his way to eminence, created the
taste which he gratified, and demon
strated the possibility of almost a new
variety of eloquence. It would haAre
been surprising, if he had not to con
tend Avith prejudices which time only
could fully melt away. For several
years it was rather the fashion to laugh
at his excessive vehemence of gesture
and playful exaggerations, but when it
was found that the flowers and myrtle
concealed a blade of perfect temper,
and as keen as any that the dryest lo
gician could forge, that the fervent ges-
ticulator never for one moment lost
command of himself or his subject, nor
failed to hold the thought and interest

of the jury, as the ancient mariner held
the wedding guest, till convinced, de
lighted, entranced, they were eager to
find a verdict for his client, doubt gave
place to confidence, and disparagement
to admiration."
After seven years of unintermitted
practice, Mr. Choate was chosen United
States senator as the successor of Daniel
Webster, who retired to accept the
office of Secretary of State in the ad
ministration of President Harrison.
Mr. Choate's course in the Senate was
that of the Whig party. He defended
a regulated tariff for protection, op
posed the ultra Democratic pretensions
in the Oregon Question and the An
nexation of Texas, delivering elaborate
speeches, which were published, on all
these questions. They were argued
Avith ability, Avith occasional illustra
tions, marked equally by force and re
finement, quite out of the usual range
of political discussion. There is a pas
sage, one of many instances of the sub-
tilty to which we allude, cited by Mr.
Whipple in an admirable article on Mr.
Choate's mental characteristics in the
"Whig Review," which appears to us to
exhibit the orator's unhackneyed turn
of thought with great felicity. He is
speaking on the subject of the Tariff
and arguing for protection to American
industry on account of the variety it
would add to the ordinary employments
of American life, and the consequent
addition to the resources needed for
different natures — a philosophical ne
cessity never before, we venture to say,
so presented in the thousand speeches
on this apparertly threadbare subject.
" In a country," he says, " of few occu-

258

RUFUS CHOATE.

pations, employments go down by an
arbitrary, hereditary, coercive designa
tion, without regard to peculiarities of
individual character. But a diversified,
advanced and refined mechanical and
manufacturing industry, cooperating
with those other numerous employ
ments of civilization which always sur
round it, offers the widest choice, de
tects the slightest shade of individual-
'iy, quickens into existence and trains
co perfection the largest conceivable
amount and utmost possible variety of
national mind." The thought thus
opened admits of indefinite illustration,
and as it brings before us the varied
industry of Europe, with its nicety of
arts and applications, the quickness of
eye, skill of hand, patient ingenuity,
and the whole stock of mixed intellec
tual and scientific resources, we see the
moral as well as material issue involved
in the question ; that it is not a mere
matter of balance of trade, but an en
largement of the freedom of pursuit of
the individual man. Such intellectual
openings of new windows into old,
stagnant, unventilated topics were not
rare with Mr. Choate. They were ori
ginal products of his faculties, which
united powers of reasoning with imagi
native association.
In the practical exercise of wit and
fancy he also excelled. There is a cap
ital instance, also cited by Mr. Whipple,
in Mr. Choate's speech on the Oregon
Question, where the mind of the lis
tener is elevated by a series of imagin
ative pictures to be more securely taken
possession of by the closing appeal.
The orator has occasion to rebuke the
idea of a settled hostility on the part

of America to Great Britain. "No,
sir," he said, "we are above all this.
Let the Highland clansman, half naked,
half civilized, half blinded by the peat
smoke of his cavern, have his heredit
ary enemy and his hereditary enmity,
and keep the keen, deep, and precious
hatred, set on fire of hell, alive, if he
can; let the North American Indian
have his, and hand it down from father
to son, by Heaven knows what sym
bols of alligators and rattle-snakes and
war clubs, smeared with vermilion and
entAvined with scarlet ; let such a coun
try as Poland, cloven to the earth, the
armed heel on the radiant forehead,
her body dead, her soul incapable to
die — let her remember the Wrongs of
days long past ; let the lost and wan
dering tribes of Israel remember theirs
— the manliness and the sympathy of
the world may allow or pardon this to
them; but shall America^ young, free
and prosperous, just setting out on the
highway of heaven, ' decorating and
cheering the elevated sphere she just
begins to move in, glittering like the
morning star, full of life and joy' —
shall she be supposed to be polluting
and corroding her noble and happy
heart, by moping over old stories of
stamp-act and tea-tax, and the firing of
the Leopard on the Chesapeake in time
of peace ?" Here rhetoric is doing her
best office in serving a high moral pur
pose. This was a man born to address
the people. At a national crisis he
would stand forth a Patrick Henry
In fact, it was some such union of
acuteness with fancy, presided over by
the sympathetic heart, which did cha
racterize the oratory of Henry.

RUFUS CHOATE.

259

In 1845, his term being ended,
Mr. Choate retired from the Senate,
and thenceforth, with the exception of
an occasional lecture or public address,
occupied himself exclusively with the
duties of his profession. He took part
in politics by the side of Webster and
his friends, but Avas never again in
office, unless we except his service in
the Constitutional Convention of Mas
sachusetts in 1853. Even his political
speeches were prompted rather by
friendship and devotion to the conser
vative cause to which he Avas attached,
than by any desire or expectation of
personal advancement. His occasional
orations, however, were too intimately
the growth of his peculiar studies and
habits of thinking not to stamp his
fame. Long before his death, he had
acquired a reputation in a department.
somewhat at this day the peculiar pro
perty of American genius. Previously
to taking his seat in the Senate, he had
delivered, in Boston, in 1841, the eulogy
on President Harrison, dwelling with
great feeling on the benevolent virtues
of his character. In 1843, his oration
before the New England Society at
New York was memorable not only
for its extraordinary eloquence, but for
calling forth a religious controversy
between the Rev. Dr. Wainright, after
ward the Provisional Bishop of the
Protestant Episcopal Church of the
diocese, and the Rev. Dr. Potts, an in
fluential Presbyterian clergyman of the
city The passage of the discourse
Avhich gave rise to the discussion, was
one in Avhich the orator pictured the
Puritans flying from persecution in
England to Geneva, where they found

"a state without king or nobles; a
church without a bishop." The senti
ment was complimented at the dinner
in the evening, and a reply elicited
from Dr. Wainright, who maintained,
in the controversy which followed, the
scriptural necessity of a bishop to the
true church organization.
The main effort, however, of Mr
Choate, outside of his profession and
his speeches in the Senate, was his dis
course delivered before the faculty,
students and alumni of Dartmouth
College, in the summer of 1853, com
memorative of Daniel Webster. To
this he was aroused by every generous,
intellectual and moral feeling of his
nature. It was their common alma
mater before whom he was to speak,
and it was of the great orator whose
genius no man more admired, and the
friend whom no man more loved. All
the finer qualities of his intellect, all
the resources of his talent, his books
and studies, all the tender sympathies
of his heart, were freely poured forth
in this admired production. An analy
sis of it would be the discovery of the
best traits of his peculiar genius. It
is no ordinary enumeration of the ser
vices of a departed great man, couched
in simple appropriate phraseology, but
teems and swells with the burden of
great thoughts and heartfelt emotions.
There is in it a deep under-current of
the orator's own life, as he utters his
long rhythmical sentences in words and
pauses Hooker or Milton would not
have disdained. The fame of Webster
is poured in upon the mind of the
reader in a succession of ocean waves,
borne along with strength and breaking

260

RUFUS CHOATE.

into particles of sparkling brilliancy.
The force of enumeration can go no
further than it has been carried in this
oration. It has been somewhat fanci
fully said of the style of Mr. Choate,
in reference to his abundant use of
adjectives, that he "drove a substantive
and six ;" but the Webster eulogy is
not made up of adjectives, but of mul
titudinous, component members of sen
tences, each a part of a majestic whole.
A single sentence, in one instance,
extends through several octavo pages,
and it requires a rapid mind and a
long breath to follow it to the end;
but nothing in it is superfluous or out
of place: all its parts are accessories
to one leading exhibition of the states
manship of its illustrious subject. The
style is not a model for imitation : it is
too great a tax on the attention of the
reader, and still greater on the powers
of the writer. A feeble author would
infallibly break down in the attempt,
and most writers, possessed of the re
quisite matter, would be confused in its
utterance; but Mr. Choate, of deep
learning, profound reflection, rapid in
the imaginative processes, skilled also
in the arts of condensation, trained by
his profession to survey every means
and carry the whole to an inevitable
conclusion, had both the material and
the power to direct it : the parts are at
once complete in themselves and con
gruous to the whole.
That the reader may not consider this
praise ill-bestowed, we venture to take
one or two of these long-breathed sen
tences, to afford an idea of the rest. Near
the opening this passage occurs, deep-
toned and musical, with a rhythmical

utterance flowing from the soul of a po
et, for such Rufus Choate undoubtedly
was, though he may not have written
a line of verse. He is speaking of the
places in the land from which the
incense of gratitude might naturally
arise to the memory of Webster, pre
vious to lighting upon the special pro
priety of the scene of his OAvn discourse
at Dartmouth : " In the halls of Con
gress," he said, "where the majestic
form seems ever to stand and the deep
tones to linger, the decorated scene of
his larger labors and most diffusive
glory; in the courts of law, to whose
gladsome light he loved to return —
putting on again the robes of that pro
fession, noble as virtue, necessary as
justice — in which he found the begin
ning of his honors; in Faneuil Hall,
whose air breathes and burns of him ;
in the commercial cities, to whose pur
suits his diplomacy secured a peaceful
sea ; in the cities of the inland, around
which his capacious public affections
and wise discernment, aimed ever to
develop the uncounted resources of
that other, and that larger, and that
newer America; in the pulpit, whose
place among the higher influences which
exalt a state, our guide in life, our con
solation in death, he appreciated pro
foundly and vindicated by weightiest
argument and testimony, of whose offi
cers, it is among the fittest, to mark
and point the moral of the great things
of the world, the excellency of dignity
and the excellency of power passing
away as the pride of the wave — passing
from our eye to take on immortality;
in those places and such as these, there
seemed a reason beyond, and other

RUFUS CHOATE.

261

than the universal calamity, for such
honors of the grave." Nothing can be
stronger, nothing can be finer than this
in Greek or Roman fame of oratory.
The noblest life is everywhere infused
into the thought; the triumphs of life
are displayed; mortality casts its solemn
shadow over the scene, and death is
swallowed up in victory.
Again, hear him speaking of the elo
quence of Webster in terms which, in
this noble oration at least, might be
aptly applied to his own: "The same
high power of reason, intent to explore
and display some truth; some truth .of
judicial, or historical, or biographical
fact; some truth of law, deduced by
construction, perhaps, or by illation;
some truth of policy, for want whereof
a nation, generations, may be the
worse; reason seeking and unfolding
truth: the same tone in all of deep
earnestness, expressive of strong desire
that that which he felt to be important
should be accepted as true, and spring
up to action; the same transparent,
plain, forcible and direct speech, con
veying his exact thought to the mind,
not something else or more ; the same
sovereignty of form, of broAV and eye,
and tone and manner — everywhere the
intellectual king of men standing be
fore you — that same marvellousness of
qualities and results, residing, I knoAV
not where, in words, in pictures, in the
ordering of ideas, in felicities indescri
bable, by means whereof, coming from
his tongue, all things seemed mended ;
truth seemed more true; probability
more plausible ; greatness more grand ;
goodness more awful; every affection
more tender than when coming from
n.— 33

other tongues— these are all in his
eloquence. But sometimes it became
individualized and discriminated even
from itself; sometimes place and cir
cumstances, great interests at stake, a
stage, an audience fitted for the highest
historic action, a crisis, personal or
national, upon him, stirred the depths
of that emotional nature as the anger
of the goddess stirs the sea on which
the great epic is beginning; strong
passions, themselves kindled to inten
sity quickened every faculty to a new
life; the stimulated associations of
ideas brought all treasures of thought
and knowledge within command, the
spell, which often held his imagination
fast, dissolved, and she arose and gave
him to choose of her urn of gold;
earnestness became vehemence, the sim
ple, perspicuous, measured and direct
language became a headlong, full and
burning tide of speech. ; the discourse
of reason, wisdom, gravity and beauty,
changed to asm/otsj?, that rarest consum
mate eloquence, grand, rapid, pathetic,
terrible ; the aliquid i/mmensv/m injkd-
Pumque that Cicero might have recog
nized; the master- triumph of man in
the rarest opportunity of his noblest
power." Truly has it been said a man
finds in another what he possesses in
himself. This glorious eulogy is more
the orator's ideal of his own art, than
its attainment by the subject of his
eulogy. Mr. Choate never surpassed this
crowning effort. It remains the monu
ment of his broken life — for that life was
destined not long after to close in the full
meridian of his poAvers. Some two years
later in 1 855, he received an injury from

262

RUFUS CHOATE.

a sprain which led to confinement and
a surgical operation; his health, after
this, appeared often interrupted, and
finally became so weakened that in the
summer of 1859 he sailed for Europe
with the hope of mending his strength.
He became so ill on the way that he
was forced to discontinue the voyage
at Halifax, where he died on the thir
teenth of July, at the age of sixty, of
an affection of the heart.
In estimating the character of Mr.
Choate the reader who studies him in
his political speeches and literary ad
dresses must remember how small a
portion of the life of the man was given
to these things — that he was first and
above all things an advocate at the bar,
pursuing the profession of the law in
its various forms, before juries, before
judges, in the lower and the higher
courts, on circuits, in the supreme judi
cature. There was his strength, there
his energy was displayed. It was a
field of great importance and of vast
labors, but in which, as we intimated at
the outset, the triumph often rose and
perished on the instant. To the court
room he brought all the prodigal luxu
riance of his nature, occasionally letting
his fancy run riot in the sweep of his
illustrations. His manner was rapid,
full of energy to violence, and he some
times ran into the grotesque, shocking
the sensibilities of persons " content to
dwell in decencies for ever," though we
may suppose he had always a sufficient
motive for what he said and for his
manner of saying it. The license which
he took seems, at any rate, to have ex
ercised no unfavorable influence on the
jury, for he generally gained his cause.

Still the anecdotes related of him, it
has to be admitted, at times approach
the ludicrous, and he must be pro
nounced guilty of humorous extrava
gance — a sin which will be leniently
weighed when we remember the liber
ties of a contrary character which dull
ness so often takes, and that a certain
excess is no uncommon attendant upon
genius. No man can be so energetic
as Mr. Choate was and crowd so much
of action into life without outstripping
the tame processes of ordinary- men.
His eloquence was no vulgar blaze
of an empty straw heap to dazzle a
crowd for a moment, "but a light sup
ported by a central fire which might be
burnt steadily. The quick operations
of his mind were cherished by early,
laborious and profound reading, and he
never relaxed his application. Fond
of books from his youth, his studies
deepened with his years, till they in
cluded a vast range of literature, art
and science. He knew the great men
as well as their thoughts in the great
books of his profession; he was un
wearied in his study of the Greek and
Roman classics, particularly the philo
sophical historians Thucydides and Ta
citus ; the catalogue of his library shows
hoAv little new or old escaped him.
With the fathers of English thought,
the great masters of English style of
the seventeenth century, when it had
more strength, if less polish, than in the
so-called Augustan age of Queen Anne,
with Bacon, Milton and Lpcke, and
even the minor essayists and. poets of
that prolific era, he was intimately con
versant, and they taught him the music
and vigor of his style.

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JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN.

The late major-general of the army
of Mexico and governor of Mississippi
had a noticeable origin in his European
descent from a Protestant ancestry in
Germany, of the days of the Reforma
tion. His recent faithful biographer
and friend, Mr. J. F. H. Claiborne, men
tions a tradition of a citizen of Rome,
of the family of the Marcelli, in the
time of Luther, embracing the doctrines
of that reformer, fleeing for safety to
Westphalia, and in the joy of his deli
verance, assuming the significant name
of Quitman — a free man. The descend
ants of this refugee for conscience sake
became settled at Cleves, in the neigh
borhood of which city we find the
grandfather of our American hero lo
cated as military inspector under the
Prussian government. He had a son,
Frederick Henry Quitman, who received
a liberal education at the University of
Halle, became preceptor in one of the
princely houses of the land, turned his
attention to theology, was instructed
and ordained at Amsterdam, and sent
to the Dutch island of Curacoa to dis
charge the , duties of a missionary.
There he married Anha Elizabeth Hu-
eck, the daughter of 'an influential citi
zen, and there he remained engaged in
his ministry the stated period of twelve
years, Avhen he became entitled to his

discharge and a pension in Holland for
his faithful service. A simple minded
man of learning and piety, to whom
his study and flock were all in all, he
was now ill at ease in the disturbed at
mosphere of European society, every
where tainted with the Jacobinism of
the Revolution. In this perplexity his
thoughts were directed to America,
where the lofty moral character of
Washington, and the general simplicity
of the country, presented a powerful
attraction to a mind of his temper. He
accordingly made his appearance one
day in the United States — an emigrant
Lutheran clergyman seeking a home and
refuge. He was introduced to Wash
ington, the object of his admiration, then
seated in his presidency, at Philadel
phia. The interview was one of great
courtesy on the one part and reverence
on the other. The general made inqui
ries concerning Prussia, which led of
course to talk of the great Frederick,
and, in natural sequence, of the eminent
military leaders, ancient and modern,
of whom Washington pronounced Han
nibal the foremost. The Rev. Dr. Quit
man was delighted with his reception.
In a memorandum which he left of it
he recorded his impression of the chief
tain's grave and reserved rather than
haughty manner,'his countenance, "me

363

264

JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN.

ditative and sad in repose," and his
conversation " not fluent or very strik
ing except for its common sense." He
could not define the source of his
emotion, but there was that about the
President which he could not forget.
"There is not so much grandeur,"
he writes, " on any throne in Europe."
Shortly after this honorable entrance
on the stage of the new world, Dr.
Quitman settled down to the quiet per
formance of his part in charge of a
Lutheran congregation in Schoharie,
New York, removing thence in 1798 to
Rhinebeck, where he lived for more
than a quarter of a century, engaged in
the work of his ministry, corresponding
in his prime with the learned men of
the last generation; published a curious
book on Magic, a series of sermons on
the Reformation — and survived to wit
ness the success in life of his distin
guished son.
That son, John Anthony, was born at
Rhinebeck, September 1, 1798. His
childhood was noted for his resolute,
active temper, ever busy in some ath
letic sport or in some mechanical device.
At twelve he was placed under the in
struction of the Rev. Mr. Wackerhagen,
a German divine in Schoharie, who in
structed him in Greek and Latin. He
Avas a studious youth but not above a
boy's passion for soldiering, it would
appear, from the zeal with which he
imitated a recruiting sergeant, in enlist
ing a littie troop of his companions.
His studies were then Continued at
home with at least an equal devotion
to the hardy amusements to which the
country life of the neighborhood invited
him He became distinguished for his

skill and strength in bodily exercises
and his success in hunting.
With these qualifications he began
life at the age of eighteen, as tutor at the
Hartwick Academy in Otsego County,
New York, " a place of mountains, val
leys, lakes and woods," as he wrote to
his brother, " where it freezes in June,
and the sun rises and sets one hour
later than in Rhinebeck." He was
industriously employed all day in teach
ing the pupils Greek, Latin and
English, and modestly admits he was
hard pressed by his scholars with " cross
'questions," though he managed to keep
ahead of them.
In 1818 he was promoted to an ad
junct professorship of the English lan
guage at Mount Airy College, an insti
tution kept by a Frenchman, at Ger-
mantown, in Pennsylvania. He lived
a year there with a motley set of teach
ers — an English Unitarian minister in
the classical department, a lieutenant of
marines in the mathematics, " a pooi
sheepish Yankee " for his colleague in
English, a great politician, Mr. Mareno,
in Spanish, and an odd genius from
Buonaparte's armies, for the French.
As they were all very amiable, their
humors must have relieved the tedium
of the dull work of education.
Mr. Quitman passed about a year at
Mount Airy when his genius impelled
him to something more active and ad
venturous. At the outset he had an
eye on his father's profession as a clergy
man, but this inclination he soon threw
off in favor of the law. An acquaint-
ance which he had made with Mr. Piatt
Brush, a lawyer and member of Con
gress from the Chilicothe district, Ohio,

JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN.

265

led him to think of trying his fortune
in the West. The desire grew upon him
and on the completion of his school en
gagement he determined to put the plan
in execution. Receiving his father's
blessing at the old home at Rhinebeck,
written out for his remembrance — ¦" May
the God of power and vrisdom preserve
thee, my son, sound in body and mind^
and his benevolence and favor accom
pany you through a long series of future
years" — he made his way to Philadel
phia on his route to the Alleghanies.
Summing up his finances, which were
somewhat diminished by the interpola,.-
tion of a Connecticut bank note, which
"like sundry other wares from that
state, turned out a counterfeit," he found
that while he could forward his baggage
across the mountains by the transporta
tion wagon it would be more politic for
him to go himself on foot. He accord
ingly, with gun and knapsack, and,
what was a better provision, the rejoic
ing spirit of youth, jogged along till
after about a fortnight's travel, having
" enjoyed himself on the road with some
pleasant flirtations with the girls," as
his diary records, he arrived one night
at the beginning of November, at Pitts
burg. His journey thence with a cheer
ful party of travellers in a keel boat
down the Ohio, is a picture of the
past. The accommodations were rough
but the ladies, made them agreeable.
There were a Mrs. Griffith . and her
mother, of the Boudinot family, from
New Jersey. The young lady played
on the flageolet and young Quitman on
the flute, So these Arcadians went fif
ing down the river, the crack of the

fowling piece, in pursuit of game on the
shore, profitably varying the concert.
When they reached the Virginian soil
the natives, who rejoiced in the eupho
nious appellations ,of "steamboats,"
" snapping turtles," and ¦" half horse half
alligators," were to.be treated with "red
eye" or "rot gut " whiskey, and the ope
ration was required to be repeated on
first making fast to "Old Kaintuck."
After some fifteen days of this pleasant
journeying our adventurer was landed
at Portsmouth, whence he was to pro
ceed to his friend Col. Brush, who was
to make a lawyer of him at Chilicothe.
He expected to perform this pilgrimage
on foot, but happily fell in with a per
son wishing to send a horse there, and,
establishing his credit by his letters, was
allowed to ride the animal. " Cheered
by this piece of good luck," says the
Diary, " he set out with a light heart."
Deer were so plentiful along the road
that he shot one with his pistol, near
Piketon. The spoil of the forest paid
that night for his bed and supper. As he
dismounted at Chilicothe he astounded
the waiter by a round Latin quotation,
a lingering of the Academy, borrowed
from the journeyings of JEneas, where
he congratulates himself on a resting
place in his wanderings.
The pupil is to have a home with
Col. Brush, and the benefit of instruc
tion in his office, in return for which: he
is to teach the colonel Spanish and his
sons the classics. After several months
thus spent at Chilicothe, in which the
student is assiduously devoted to his
profession, mingling in the society of
the place, but suffering nothing to dissi
pate his attention, avoiding debt and ill

266

JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN.

habits, he is advanced to a clerkship in
a land register's office, opened by a bro
ther of his employer, at Delaware, in a
new district of the State. In 1820 this
now: central town was "on the very
edge of white population," the claims
of the Indians having been recently ex
tinguished. Though much admired by
him for its agricultural capabilities and
its many natural beauties, the region
proved but a dull residence for the
energetic Quitman. The scarcity of
money was sensibly felt as a bar to rapid
progress. "There is scarcely money
enough among our farmers," he wrote
to a friend, " to give their babies to cut
their first teeth with." Everything was
paid for in produce, which might answer
for the rude living of the farmers, but
offered no opportunities for professional
success. His thoughts, in fact, were already
directed to the South. "The Southern
States," he wrote to his father, hold out
golden prospects to men of integrity,
application and good acquirements.
Money is there as plenty as it is scarce
here, and a good reason for it ; for while
not a single article of our produce will
command cash, their cotton, sugar, tobac
co and rice are always in demand, and
the world will not do without them."
To Natchez accordingly his steps are
bent, beckoned thither by the good Mrs.
Griffith, the lady who had been his
fellow traveller in the keel boat on his
first descent of the Ohio. He starts at
the beginning of November, 1821, from
the village, with his law license in his
pocket, a small sum of money collected
from his clients, a good horse under
him, and a stock of healthy experiences

in a new country, sustained byindustry
and self denial. It was a rough season
for travel. The river was clogged with
ice as he crossed it to Maysville, and the
roads were so smoothly frozen that the
mare which he rode became lame. He
was unhandsomely deprived of the ani
mal by a Kentucky sharper in conjunc
tion with a knavish landlord, who per
suaded him to " swap" for a noble animal,
the only horse in fact "which Brigadier-
General Somebody, who came around
once a year to muster the brigade, would
ride on such occasions." The young
lawyer fell into the snare, paying also
twenty-five dollars addition for his expe
rience; the splendid animal soon broke
down on the road, and the rider, giving
up all thoughts of traversing the land
to Mississippi as he had intended, on
horseback, was compelled to sneak into
Louisville after nightfall to escape the
jeers of the street. Thence he made
his way on a steamboat to his place of
destination. It is well worth lingering to listen
to his first pleasant impressions of the
place. The letter of Mrs. Griffith intro
duced him to her son, little older than
himself, but already established as a
leading lawyer of the city; His books,
his office, his friendship' were at the
service of the new comer. The hospi
tality of the planters, whose wealth was
in striking contrast to the poverty of
the farmers in Ohio, delighted him.
" Their very servants," he wrote to his
father, " catch the feeling of their own
ers and anticipate one's wants. Your
coffee in the morning before sunrise;
little stews and sudorifics at night, and
warm foot-baths if you have cold ; bou

JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN.

267

quets of fresh flowers and mint-juleps
sent to your apartment ; a horse and
saddle at your disposal ; everything free
and easy and cheerful and cordial. It
is really fascinating, and I seem to be
leading a charmed life compared with
my pilgrimage elsewhere."
By the aid of Mr. Griffith, he was
soon introduced to a profitable practice,
and his fortunes were still more en
hanced by marriage, in 1824, with a
wealthy heiress of the city, the daugh
ter of a gentleman named Turner, who
had emigrated from Kentucky. Mr.
Quitman was noAV getting to be some
thing of a public man. Having always
a military turn, he had been appointed
brigade inspector of militia, with the
rank of major, and in 1827 was brought
forward as a candidate from Natchez
and Adams county, for the legislature
of the State. His biographer, Mr. Clai-
' borne, has a characteristic anecdote of
the contest vrith his competitor. Cap
tain Quitman, as he was then called,
entered with great, spirit into the can
vass. He traversed every section of
the county, and just before the election
attended a large gathering at Hering's
store, the extreme precinct, near the
Franklin county line. He went, in his
usual neat dress, but soon threw off his
coat, and astonished the crowd by his
feats in wrestling, leaping and boxing.
A foot-race was got up, a sweepstake
for six, a hundred and fifty yards, and
he beat the fastest. The heavyweights
from Hoggatt's cotton-gin were on the
ground, and he lifted more, at arm's
length, than the strongest man present.
His strength of arm was remarkable.
By this time a fat_ ox — the prize of the

day — was driven up, the target fixed at
sixty yards, and the shooting com
menced. There were several expert
riflemen on the ground, among whom
was the noted John Hawkins, the
crack shot of the whole country round.
No one would shoot against him, and
" Brown Bess," as he called his favorite
rifle, without the odds. To the aston
ishment of the crowd, Quitman refused
the odds and took an even chance.
The contest was left to them. Haw
kins's pride was aroused, and he shot
more deliberately than usual. Three
times they tried their skill, and three
times the veteran was beaten. He
seemed thunder-struck and grief-smit
ten, angry and churlish. At length,
however, admiration at what he con
sidered as something almost supernatu
ral got the better of him, and he
stepped up to Quitman, and taking off
his hat, said, " Sir, you have done what
no other man has been able to do.
The beef is yours, and John Hawkins
is yours too." Quitman took his hand,
praised his shooting, caressed Brown
Bess, presented him the beef, and pro-.
posed a general treat.. His election was
secured. Thus launched on the flood of politics,
he continued to contend or float with
the current to the end. Of an ambiti
ous nature, he sought public duties,
civil and military, as the highest ob
jects of earnest citizenship. His legal
ability and experience, enabled him at
once to be of use in the legislature, in
the determination of various judicial
reforms. He presently, also, received
from the governor the appointment of
Chancellor of the State, and became so

26S

JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN.

much interested in its duties, as to
refuse a proffered nomination as a can
didate for a vacant seat in the United
States Senate. In 1832, he was elected
a member of the State Convention, for
the formation of a new constitution, in
which he opposed the adoption of the
then Unprecedented provision for the
election of judges by the people. " A
constitution," he maintained, " is intend
ed not merely to establish a frame of
government, but also principally to de
fine and limit the powers of the several
departments, and to protect the private
citizen in his reserved rights. It is thus
intended for the benefit of the minor
ity, to protect them against the action
of the majority; to protect the weak
against the strong, the poor and infirm
against the rich and powerful. The
judicial department is to apply these
restraints. Is it not therefore improper,
in the very threshold, to place this
department strictly and immediately
under the influence and control of those
who are to be restrained ?" By these
and other arguments, addressed to the
electors of Adams county before the
Convention, he sought to regulate pub
lic opinion on this important topic,
where his legal mind directed him to
the right issue ; and though he subse
quently acquiesced in the working of
the new system when the change was
made, we may take this excellent docu
ment as evidence of his best judgment
on the matter. The new Constitution
on going into operation, certainly was
at first practically in his favor, for he
Avas elected by the people chancellor
under its provisions. He held the
office for two years — marked by a sad

inroad in his domestic circle, in the lOss
of two sons by the cholera— resigning
it in 1834. The next year he was
chosen to the State Senate, and was
made its President.
These multiplied civil duties, how
ever, did not extinguish -the old war
spirit which always lurked in Quit
man's breast, whether chancellor or
law-maker. On the entry of Santa
Anna into Texas in 1836, there was a
cry for succor from the American set
tlers, to which no one more readily
responded. He presided at a public
meeting in Natchez, and in concert with
General Houston, organized a company
Of recruits for Texas. The United
States being then at peace with Mexico,
he conducted his men quietly across
Louisiana to the Sabine, when he
was elected their captain, and assumed
a warlike attitude. At San Augustine,
his first resting place in Texas, he was
confronted by a lawless band of gam
blers, belonging to the gang which had
long infested the Mississippi, and some
of whom he had himself driven out of
Natchez at the head of his military
company of Fencibles. One of these
desperadoes, " a tall, well dressed and
fierce looking man," came to his bedside
at midnight with a bowie-knife belted
to his side, and a large duelling pistol
in his hand. " Fortunately," says Cap
tain Quitman in his diary, " I had on
my belt pistols, and instantly drawing
one, I confronted him and said, ' Sir, I
know you, and you know who I am.
I am here on other business, and desire
no quarrel with you ; but I fear you
not.' I kept my eye steadily fixed
upon him. We stood five feet apart.

JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN.

269

and my intention was to shoot him
down upon the slightest motion of his
pistol. He glared at me for a few mo
ments, when, to my surprise and great
relief, his features relaxed into a smile,
and he said, ' Captain, you are a brave
man, and I will be your friend.' " After
this incident, Captain Quitman was
able to divert the hostility of the gam
blers from his party.
On entering Texas, he ftmnd the
peaceful inhabitants abandoning their
property in flight, before a threatened
invasion of the Mexicans and Indians.
An actual conflict seemed imminent at
Nacogdoches, which he boldly entered
and guarded with his troops. He then
pursued his way southward, and joined
General Houston two days after the
battle of San Jacinto, which ended this
invasion. On Quitman's return home
ward by the Sabine, he was fired upon
by a party of robbers, and saved by
the interposition of the gambler whom
he had so courageously faced at San
Augustine. The campaign, in various
acts of liberality to his men, cost Cap
tain Quitman a private expenditure of
over ten thousand dollars.
In the same year with this Texan ex
pedition he was an unsuccessful candi
date for Congress, a defeat which does
not appear to have affected his popu
larity. In 1839 he visited Europe to
negotiate the bonds of the Planter's
Bank and the Mississippi Railroad Com
pany, sailing from New York in the
Sheridan, one of the " dramatic" line
of packets. He was landed in Ireland,
saw Cork and Dublin ; thence to Liver
pool, and by the time-honored route of
Stratford and Kenilworth, to London ;
ii.— 34

across the sea to Rotterdam and into
Germany, to the home of his ancestors
in Westphalia. The object of his jour
ney in the sale of the bonds was not
accomplished, the market being sur
charged with such securities ; but he
carried home with him the full measure
of novel impressions always experienced
by the intelligent observer in Europe
from the new world.
Captain Quitman engaged, on his
return home, in his legal practice, and
was much interested in the financial
questions of his State till, on the break
ing out of the Mexican war and the
call of the President for volunteers, he
was received into the army as briga
dier-general. In this capacity he joined
General Taylor in the month of Au
gust, 1846, at Camargo on the Rio
Grande, just previous to the advance
to Monterey. Taylor, whom he found
"farmer-like, frank and friendly," as
signed him a brigade of the Tennessee
and Mississippi regiments, which fell
under the division of General Butler.
In the grand attack on Monterey, in
September, General Quitman was en
gaged on the eastern side of the city,
in the series of operations more especi
ally conducted by General Taylor. It
was his fortune to lead his brigade to
the assault and capture of Fort Teneria,
as it was called by the Americans, one
of the most formidable defences of the
city. It was gallantly carried under a
heavy crossfire. General Quitman's
horse was shot under him ; he was sup
plied with another, dismounted at the
critical moment, and ran with his men
into the work. The advantage thus
gained on the twenty-first was held un-

270

JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN.

der great difficulties by the brigade.
" The position was uncomfortable ; they
were exposed to an incessant cannonade,
and the corpses of the slaughtered
Mexicans had become offensive; the
weather was wet and cold; they had
neither blankets nor fire. The general
shared the fare of his troops and estab
lished his quarters on one of Ridgeley's
guns. It was here his faithful servant
Harry, who had followed the assaulting
column, was heard remonstrating with
his master, and imploring him, ' for the
sake of mistress and the children,' not
to expose himself so much. ' Take care
of yourself, Harry' said the general.
' Help the wounded ; keep as near me
as you can. I must push on Avith the
foremost, and trust to Providence.'"1
The attack upon Monterey, it will be
remembered, was terminated by the
conquest of the city, street by street
from its opposite sides. This last
movement was conducted at one ap
proach to the main square by General
Worth, at the other by General Quit
man, with equal danger and heroism.
The capitulation which ensued, and
which became the subject of consider
able comment, did not meet the views
of Quitman. He was for pushing the
war at once, conquering the country
and annexing it. The President, Mr.
Polk, for whose compromise measures,
as he deemed them, he entertained lit
tle respect, thought otherwise. But
there was much fighting yet to be done
before a peace was conquered, and Quit
man was to have his share of it.
At the time the troops were with-
1 Claiborne's Life and Correspondence of Quitman, I.
250.

drawn from General Taylor for Scott's
line at Vera Cruz, General Quitman
was at Victoria, whither he had led a
large body of the Southern regiments
to the occupation of the city. In Jan
uary, 1847, he, with his command, con
sisting of the South Carolina, Georgia,
and Alabama regiments, marched under
General Patterson to Tampico. They
were thence transported with the army
of invasion to Vera Cruz, where Quit
man had his share in the operations of
the investment of the 'town. At the
beginning of April he was charged to
conduct the land expedition which co
operated with Commodore Perry in
the movement against Alvarado, and
performed his portion of the work with
success. The surrender of the town
left no occasion for fighting, but there
were other services to be rendered in
conciliating the inhabitants on the
march, which were not neglected.
In the march upward to Mexico,
General Quitman, who received his
commission of major-general from Wash
ington, dated April 14th, on the way,
joined General Patterson at Jalapa,
and on the further advance to Puebla,
conducted a brigade composed of the
four volunteer regiments from South
Carolina, New York, Pennsylvania, and
a detachment of mounted Tennesseans.
At Puebla he was anxious for a com
mand adequate to the importance of
his new title, but the complications of
the several divisions were such that
he could not, at once, be gratified by
the commander-in-chief. On the arrival
of reinforcements, he commanded in the
advance to the city of Mexico a division
consisting of the New York, South Ca-

JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN.

271

rolina, and second Pennsylvania regi
ments, a battalion of marines, Steptoe's
battery, and Gaither's troop of horse.
He was not in the first actions on the
approach to the capital, being left in
charge of the important depot at San
Augustin; but Chapultepec was em
phatically his victory. He led his
troops under a heavy fire to its formid
able defences, and when the work was
stormed, hastened along the causeway
to new perils, more daring even than
those which invested the proud heights
he had conquered. The assault of Cha
pultepec was, every way considered, one
of the bravest actions of the war ; its
sequel, the successful attack upon the
Belen gate, was Quitman's own — he
was the foremost of his men in leading
them to the deadly charge, as, " black
with Smoke, and stained with blood,"
he leaped upon the battery. He was
in the van of the American army on
the " perilous edge of battle," exposed
to a thousand dangers, which seemed
noways to disturb. him. He smoked
his cigar quietly, gave his directions
that afternoon of the thirteenth of Sep
tember, while the enemy's batteries were
playing around him, confident of the
success of the movement. That nio-ht
overtures of surrender were made, and
the next morning General Quitman was
the first to enter the grand. plaza of the
city of Mexico, and plant the banner
of his country upon the dome of the
national palace Let the reader, to
appreciate the scene, banish from bis
mind all notions of a holiday parade,
and contemplate for a moment the stern
reality of this proceeding. He must
imagine, not a splendid pageant of

brilliantly-equipped soldiers in these
victors, but, in the language of an offi
cer who participated in the previous
struggle, a body of worn-out men, ex-
hausted by toil and battle, " nearly all
of us covered with mud, and some with
blood; some limping, some with arms
in scarfs, and others with heads in
bandages, followed by two endless lines
of gaping lepers and rabble." The
brave General Quitman himself, in this
triumphal procession, it is said, had
but one shoe, having lost the other in
falling into a canal the night before.
This is victory, woe-worn, begrimed, ex
hausted ; and so should artists paint
the scene if they would present it with
power. General Scott arrived immediately
after with his staff, and doubtless in
better attire, and appointed General
Quitman governor of the city The
latter left the following month for
Washington, to urge his favorite plan
of a permanent military occupation of
cne conquered country; but different
views prevailed, and the treaty of peace
ended the question.
New civil honors now awaited the
victorious general. In the democratic
nominating convention of 1848, at Bal
timore, he was talked of for the vice-
presidency, and the following year was,
by a large majority, elected governor
of his State of Mississippi. Oddly
enough, by a strange medley of events,
growing out of his sympathy with the
invasion of Cuba by General Lopez, he
resigned the office in the middle of his
term, to meet the requisition of the
United States courts for his trial at
NeAV Orleans for an alleged violation

272

JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN.

of the neutrality lawr. The court pro
ceeded with the trial of General Hen
derson, who was charged with com
plicity in the affair, but, failing to con
vict, entered a nolle prosequi exonera
ting General Quitman with the rest.
His resignation was, with his well-
known views on the subject of State
rights, an instance of moderation in
avoiding a conflict between the Federal
and State authorities. He was, more
over, at the time, as his published cor
respondence shows, seriously thinking
of secession, as a means of redress for
what he pronounced to be northern
aggression in the passage of Mr. Clay's
omnibus bill. The course of political
opinion in Mississippi ran counter to
these views, or he might, perhaps, have
been called again to the governor's
chair. His visit to his native Rhinebeck, in
New York, in 1853, should not be for
gotten. He was welcomed in a general
gathering of the people, and addressed
them with emotion, recalling the time
when, thirty-four years since, he had
gone forth. "a portionless adventurer,
armed only with the stern energies, the
untiring industry and perseverance, and
the good principles which the fathers
of this good old county of Dutchess
had imparted to their children."
In 1855 he was elected to the House
of Representatives of the Union, was
created chairman of its committee on
military affairs, and distinguished him
self by an elaborate speech advocating
the repeal of the neutrality laws. At
the Presidential nominating convention

of this year, 1856, at Cincinnati, he had
the highest. number of votes on the first
ballot for the vice-presidency He
spoke at length, at the next session of
Congress in December, on the powers
of the federal government with regard
to the Territories, maintaining of course
the generally received Southern view
of the question. . He was again elected,
and took his seat in the next Congress,
speaking frequently with his accustom
ed energy. His health, however, was
now declining. One of his last public
acts was the delivery of an address at
Columbia, South Carolina, at the second
anniversary of the Palmetto Associa
tion, composed of the survivors of the
famed regiment of that name in the
Mexican war. He dwelt upon the stir
ring e\Tents of those campaigns in which
he had been a participant, and recalled
in particular the memorable incident of
his great scene of triumph at the Belen
gate, when a son of South Carolina, the
gallant Lieutenant Sellick, planted the
Palmetto flag on the enemy's battery,
and was struck down by a severe
wound in the act.
General Quitman survived this visit
to South Carolina but two months.
On his return to Washington, he was
invited to take command or preside
over a large gathering of volunteer
militia in Natchez. He accepted the
invitation, travelled to Natchez, but
failing health debarred him from the
welcome honor. He sank rapidly into
a fatal lethargy, and expired at his
home at Natchez July 17, 1858, at the
age of fifty-nine,

;rt', /.,.,. . sr/;w; fits.
j n-:h(-i!:. Hsv/rcai",..

STEPHEN ARNOLD DOUGLAS.

The family of this eminent states
man early came to America from Scot
land, three generations being mentioned
by his biographer as living in the
United States. His grandfather, a na
tive of Pennsylvania, was a' soldier
of Washington, and was with that
great commander at Valley Forge and
Yorktown. A son, born in New
York, who is spoken of as "a phy
sician of high repute," Avas the father
of the subject of this sketch. Ste
phen A. Douglas was born at Bran
don, Vt, April 23, 1813. His father
died in the infancy of the child. The
boy was educated in the common
schools till the age of fifteen,- when,
having exhibited an aptitude for learn
ing, and a proper perseverance, he
would have continued his studies at
college. The family affairs, however,
did not admit of this expense. Being
resolved to earn his own living, he
then apprenticed himself to a cabinet
maker. He worked at this trade for
eighteen months, when he relinquished
it as injurious to his health. Return
ing, to his studies, he entered the aca
demy at Brandon, and when the family
the next year removed to Canandaigua,
New York, he also studied in the aca
demy at that place, and subsequently
in the laAv office of Mr. Hubbell. At

the age of twenty, in 1833, he left for
the West, to establish himself as a
lawyer in that region. Several cities,
Cincinnati, Louisville, St. Louis, are
mentioned as places of his sojourn be
fore he found a permanent home in Illi
nois. He began his career there by
opening a school at Winchester, near
Jacksonville, where he taught forty
pupils, giving his energies meanwhile,
to the study of the law. In 1834 he
was admitted to the bar of the Supreme
Court, and immediately entered upon
the active practice of the profession.
Ardent, resolute, possessed of rare
reasoning powers, it was not long before
he became absorbed in that political
career in which he was destined to at
tain an extraordinary eminence. Be
fore the age of twenty-two he was
elected by the Legislature, Attorney-
General of the State, the competitor for
the office being the distinguished Colo
nel John J. Hardin. The next year,
1836, he was elected by a Democratic
vote to the Legislature ; the year after
received the appointment from Presi
dent Van Buren of Register of the
Land Office, at Springfield, and the
same year Avas a Democratic candidate
for Congress. He would have been
pronounced elected, had not a few
votes on which his name was misspelt,

278

274

STEPHEN ARNOLD DOUGLAS.

been thrown out, which gave a majo
rity of five, out of more than forty
thousand votes cast, to the Whig can
didate. Pursuing, meanwhile, his pro
fession of the law, he entered eagerly
into the canvass for Van Buren in the
Presidential campaign which resulted
in the election of .General Harrison.
His promotion in Illinois was now
rapid. Appointed Secretary of State
in 1840, he was the next year, at the
early age of twenty-seven, elected- by
the Legislature a judge of the Supreme
Court, and discharged the duties of
that office till 1843, when he was elected
to Congress. He was twice reelected,
in 1844 and 1846, when his career in
the House of Representatives was ar
rested by the Legislature of his State
electing him as a Senator for the full
term of six years, commencing with the
Congress of 1847. He was twice re
elected to the Senate of the United
States, his duties in this body terminat
ing only with his life. In the last elec
tion, in 1858, his competitor was Abra
ham Lincoln. The election is a memo
rable one for the closeness of the
popular contest preceding it, and the
discussion of principles by both candi
dates, who conducted the canvass in
person. At Chicago, Springfield; at
Ottowa, Freeport, Jonesboro, Charles
ton ; at Galesburg, at Quincy, at Alton,
on seven occasions in joint debate, they
followed one another in the discussion
of the principles of the rapidly develop
ing Republican party, which then began
deeply to agitate the nation. The result
of the election was a Democratic Legis
lature, which returned Mr. Douglas to
the Senate by a majority of eight votes.

In his long career of eighteen years
in the Halls of Legislation at Washing
ton, Mr. Douglas earned an . eminent
reputation by his force of mind, his
energy, and determination. Adopting
generally the principles, and advocat
ing the policy of the Democratic party,
a supporter of the ultra Oregon Claim,
of the annexation of Texas, of the ap
plication of the Monroe Doctrine, of
the peaceful acquisition of Cuba, and
the like measures ; ever the indefatiga
ble advocate of Western interests in
the development of the great resource?
of that region; he struck out a path
for himself in his advocacy of his favo
rite doctrine of Popular Sovereignty, a
theory by which he sought to solve
the pressing difficulties of slavery in
the Territories, and for the practical
adoption of which he endeavored to
prepare the way by the introduction of
the Kansas and Nebraska bill.
The passage of that act in 1854, by
its abolition of the Missouri Compro
mise, restricting slavery, with the ex
ception of Missouri, to the territory
south of the northern line of Arkan
sas, was the prelude to the fearful
contest which immediately ensued in
Kansas, and undoubtedly opened the
way for the adverse political issues
which preceded the present rebellion
Hoav far Mr. Douglas was responsible
for letting loose upon the public this
angry strife, it is not necessary here to
inquire. Suffice it to say that his the
ory of Popular Sovereignty, beset with
difficulties of the most formidable char
acter, failed to work Avell in practice,
and was not only rejected by a great
body of his countrymen of a different

STEPHEN ARNOLD DOUGLAS.

275

school of politics, but embarrassed him
greatly with the members of his own
party, whose ultra pretensions he was
compelled to oppose in his able resist
ance to the Lecompton Pro-slavery Con
stitution, when an attempt was made
to force that measure upon Congress.,
Mr. Douglas was on three occasions
a candidate in the Democratic conven
tions for the Presidency — in 1852, when
General Pierce was chosen ; more par
ticularly at Cincinnati, in 1856, when
the sixteenth ballot stood 122 for him,
to 168 for Mr. Buchanan, and he gene
rously withdrew his name that his
rival might receive the requisite two-
thirds vote; and again in 1860, at
Charleston and Baltimore, when he re
ceived the nomination, though the con
test ended in the disruption of the De
mocratic party. In the last election
there were three candidates in the field,
the representatives of as many shades
of opinions in regard to the great ques
tions of the time. John C. Brecken-
ridge of Kentucky, represented the
ultra pro-slavery doctrines of the South,
denying the power of Congress to
abolish or prohibit the introduction of
" the peculiar institution " in the Terri
tories, and demanding for it, if neces
sary, protection from the Federal Gov
ernment. Diametrically opposite, Abra
ham Lincoln was the exponent of the
views of the Republican party, which,
by its " platform " at Chicago opposed
the doctrine as a dangerous political
heresy, fruitful of evils, and revolution
ary in its tendency, maintaining that the
Constitution " of its own force " carries
slavery into any of the Territories. This
•party held that " the normal condition

of all the territory of the United States
was that of freedom," and that it was
the duty of Congress on all proper oc
casions to assert the principle. Holding
a medium position between the two, in
his doctrine of non-intervention or Pop
ular Sovereignty, Mr. Douglas sought
to solve the difficulty by removing the
question from Congress to the Terri
tories themselves, and leaving the peo
ple ti regulate their affairs in their own
way. The position of Mr. Douglas
was thus a species of compromise be
tween the other parties; an effort to
hold the balance between the North
and South to obviate the threatened en
counter. The question was given to
the people, and the distracted councils
of the Democratic party threw the
election in favor of the Republicans.
Of the elective popular vote of more
than four millions and a half, Mr
Douglas received over one million three
hundred thousand, within about five
hundred thousand of the vote of Mr
Lincoln. The Breckenridge vote was
over eight hundred thousand. Large
as his aggregate vote was, Mr. Douglas
had the majority only in a single State
— Missouri. In his own State of Illi
nois the vote stood for Douglas 160,215 ;
for Lincoln 172,161.
The announcement of this result
brought the threatened crisis. The
Southern Slave States began the work
of revolt, and before the newly-elected
President took his seat, Secession was
inaugurated in South Carolina and the
Gulf States. It was a time which re
quired all men to declare their alle
giance. To the honor of Senator
Douglas he did not falter in his de<

276

STEPHEN ARNOLD DOUGLAS.

cision, but raised his voice clearly and.
unequivocally for the preservation of
the Union and the maintenance of its
rightful authority While compromise
and reconciliation were even talked of
in the opening of the last session of
Congress in President Buchanan's ad
ministration, he urged an amicable set
tlement of the difficulty, but when all
peace propositions had failed, and the
question was Union or Disunion, he
was for a manly, determined opposition
to the Southern Rebellion. On return
ing home from the Senate after the in
auguration of President Lincoln, when
the patriotism of the country was
aroused by the attack upon Fort Sum
ter; in thrilling, animated speeches in
Ohio to the people of Wheeling and its
vicinity ; before the Legislature of Illi
nois at Springfield, and at a popular
meeting of citizens at Chicago, on the
1st of May 1861, he gave expression to
the voice of the nation in words of
stirring eloquence. "That the present
danger is imminent," said he, " no man
can conceal. If war must come — if the
bayonet must be used to maintain the
Constitution — I can say before God my
conscience is clear. I have struggled
long for a peaceful solution of the diffi
culty. I have not only tendered those
States what was theirs of right, but I
have gone to the very extreme of mag

nanimity. The return we receive is
war, armies marched upon our capital,
obstructions and dangers to our naviga
tion, letters of marque to invite pirates
to prey upon our commerce, a concerted
movement to blot out the United States
of America from the map of the globe.
The question is, are we to maintain the
countiy of our fathers, or allow it to be
stricken down by those who, when they
can no longer govern, threaten to de
stroy ?" The answer was given by him
in no doubtful terms. Had his life
been spared the Union would have had
no more strenuous or efficient supporter
of its paramount claims upon the peo
ple. Immediately after this speech Sena
tor Douglas became confined to his
room, by an attack of rheumatism,
which did not, however, prevent his dic
tating a letter to a political committee,
urging the consolidation- of parties in
the defence of the country. " A man,"
said he, "cannot be a true Democrat
unless he is a loyal patriot." This was
the last utterance of a dying statesman.
Fever presently set in, and after a fort
night's illness, Senator Douglas died at
Chicago, on the third of June. His
latest words were spoken to his wife,
a legacy of advice to his children:
" Tell them to support the Constitution
and the Laws-"

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JOHN J. CRITTENDEN.

The last survivor of the race of emi
nent political leaders, who for a whole
generation brilliantly illustrated the
Whig party in the United States Sen
ate ; the friend of Clay and the associ
ate of Webster, who lived to carry their
principles, enforced by a personal cha
racter of purity and integrity, into an
entirely new era of his country's history;
John J. Crittenden, was born in Wood
ford County, Kentucky, about the year
1785. His father, a farmer of the S tate,
met his death by a singular accident.
He was killed by the fall of a tree
Avhile his son was quite young, leaving
him to the care of his mother, by whom
he was trained to a career of industry
and honor. Educated to the profession
of the law, he began practice in Hop-
kinsville, whence he soon removed to
Frankfort, where he entered upon a
highly successful career as a lawyer.
His official political life dates from the
year 1816, when, at the age of thirty-
one, he was elected from Franklin
County to the Kentucky House of Re
presentatives, of which he was chosen
Speaker. A choice of this kind in an
assembly distinguished for ready debat
ing talent, generally marks the success
ful candidate, in whom quickness, acu
men, breadth of mind, and knowledge
of the world are commonly required,
n.— 35

for higher political advancement. In
the case of Mr. Crittenden it was the
first step in his rapid promotion to the
highest honors in the gift of his native
State. He was presently elected to the
United States Senate for the balance
of a term, taking his seat in December,
1817, in the first Congress under the
presidency of Monroe, of whose admin
istration he was a supporter- During
this Congress we find him speaking in
opposition to the sedition law of Presi
dent Adams' party, the subject having
come up on a question of reimbursing
the fines imposed under that enact
ment ; and in favor of the principle of
freely giving the public lands of the
West to actual settlers. On the expira
tion of this Congress he resumed the
practice of the law at Frankfort, at
which he continued, serving several
terms in the State legislature, till
the year 1835, when he again enter
ed the United States Senate, serving
through the last two years of General
Jackson's administration and the whole
of Van Buren's, till the accession of
President Harrison, in whose cabinet
he was appointed attorney-general. The
early death of Harrison caused his re
signation, when he was at once restored
by the Kentucky legislature to the Se
nate, in which the retirement of Mr

377

,278

JOHN J. CRITTENDEN.

Clay had created a vacancy. On the
expiration of this term he was a second
time returned for the full period of six
years, which he had nearly completed,
when, in 1848, he resigned to become
governor of his native State, to which
office he was triumphantly elected by
the Whig party. In 1850, under the
administration of President Fillmore,
he is again at Washington, a second
time seated in the cabinet, the associate
of Daniel Webster, as attorney-general.
He held the office for more than two
years, till the accession of President
Pierce. In 1855, he was again return
ed to the Senate for the full term of
six years.
During all this time Mr. Crittenden
supported the principles of his eminent
fellow-representative in the Senate,
Henry Clay, and of the Whig party
generally, distinguishing himself by his
advocacy of a protective tariff, and his
opposition to the anti-bank measures of
President Jackson, the sub-treasury
system of Van Buren, and the annexa
tion of Texas. In his relations to the
great questions of foreign policy of his
time, the war with Mexico and the Ore
gon boundary difficulty, he was on the
side of moderation, desirous that the
first should be terminated as speedily
as possible consistent with the national
honor, and deprecating any violent
action on the latter. In two instances
he showed his sympathy with the peo
ple of Europe ; in his introduction of
the bill into the Senate, authorizing the
purchase of precisions and their trans
portation in a public ship to the poor
of Ireland, and in his prompt advocacy
of a recognition of the popular move

ment in France in the Revolution of
1848. The main features of his states
manship were embraced in his persist
ent inculcation of a home, national, con
servative policy; free alike from fo
reign entanglement and domestic broils.
Thus, in common with Mr. Clay and
other prominent members of his party,
he sought a conciliatory course on the
subject of the growing political difficul
ties between the North and the South.
The conclusion of his last Senatorial
term in which, during the stirring con
flicts arising from the disturbed state
of affairs — the incipient civil war — in
Kansas, he endeavored to pursue an
independent middle path, brought him
to the first stage of the Great Rebellion
at the end of President Buchanan's ad
ministration. No one at this time in
Congress was more active in devising
plans and expedients of conciliation to
stay the South in its threatened -revolt.
He advocated an amendment to the
Constitution denying to Congress the
power to abolish slavery in the District
of Columbia while it existed in Mary
land and Virginia ; or to abolish it in
places under its exclusive jurisdiction
in any of the., slaveholding States.
He would have had these and other
provisions of a like nature unalterable.
When the resu't of the labors of the
Peace Conference, proposing, among
other measures, an extension of the line
of the Missouri Compromise to the Pa
cific, denying to Congress any inter
ference with slavery in the territories
below that parallel, was laid before the
Senate, Mr. Crittenden was placed at
the head of the committee appointed
for their consideration. They were re

JOHN J. CRITTENDEN.

279

ported without alteration by the com
mittee ; but the Senate, as a body, was
not disposed to entertain them. While
some preferred the Resolutions previ
ously offered by Mr. Crittenden, the
majority refused to receive either. It
was, in fact, too late for conciliation.
South Carolina had taken the initiative
of revolt. The rebellion was an ac
complished fact.
To the next Congress, the first of
President Lincoln's administration, Mr.
Crittenden was returned as a mem
ber of the House of Representatives.
Accepting the war as an inevitable
necessity for the preservation of the
Union, in the words of his Resolution
of the 22dof July, 1862, " forced upon
the country by the disunionists of the
Southern States, now in arms against
the constitutional government, and in
arms against the capital," he strove to
limit its objects to the simple preserva
tion of the Union ; or in the further
words of the Resolution, " that in this
national emergency, Congress, banish
ing all feelings of mere passion or re
sentment, will recollect only its duty
to the whole country ; that this war is
not waged on their part in any spirit
of oppression, or for any purpose of con

quest or subjugation, or purpose of
overthrowing or interfering with the
rights or established institutions of
those States, but to defend and main
tain the supremacy of the Constitu
tion, and to preserve the Union with
all the dignity, equab'ty, and rights
of the several States unimpaired; and
that as soon as these objects are ac
complished, the war ought to cease."
The Resolution, which fully indi
cates the cautious conservatism. of Mr.
Crittenden, was almost unanimously
adopted. •
In Kentucky, Mr. Crittenden remain
ed a staunch defender of the Union,
supporting the war measures of the ad
ministration, and upholding the fidelity
of his native State. When, after many
severe shocks of war, its position as a
member of the old United States seem
ed fully confirmed, the venerable pat
riot, at the age of seventy-seven, on the
26th of July, 1863, died at his home
at Frankfort. He sank under general
debility, while his faculties were main
tained to the last. His remains were
interred with distinguished honors in
the family burial place in the beauti
ful Cemetery of the city overlooking
the Kentucky River.

WILLIAM HENRY SEWARD.

The family of this eminent statesman
is traced -to a Welsh ancestor, who
came to Connecticut in the reign of
Queen Anne. A branch of this parent
stock removed to New Jersey, where,
during the War of the Revolution,
Colonel John Seward, the grandfather
of the subject of this notice, sustained
the character of a zealous patriot, and
supporter of the army of Washington.
His son, Samuel S. Seward received a
liberal education, studied medicine, and
marrying Mary Jennings, the daughter
of Isaac Jennings, of Goshen, New
York, removed in 1795, to Florida, a
village in the town of Warwick, Orange
County, in that State; where, we are
told, he " combined a large mercantile
business with an extensive range of
professional practice, both of which he
carried on successfully for the space of
twenty years, when he retired from ac
tive business and devoted himself to
the cultivation of the estate, of which,
by constant industry and economy, he
became the owner." Dr. Seward, an
active member of the Republican party
of his day, held several offices of pub
lic trust, as a member of the legislature,
and was, for many years, first j udge of his
county. His public spirit was shown
in his endowment of a high school or
seminary at Florida which was named

after him, the Seward Institute. H«
died at an advanced age in 1849, hav
ing survived his wife a few years.
Of this parentage William Henry
Seward was born, at the family dwel
ling, in Florida, May 16th, 1801. A
precocious student, and lover of learn
ing in his childhood, he attended such
schools as the neighborhood afforded
until the age of nine, when he was sent
to Farmer's Hall Academy at Goshen,
where he pursued his studies, and at
an academy afterwards established in
Florida, until his fifteenth year, when
his proficiency was such that on pre
senting himself for admission to Union
College, Schenectady, he was found
qualified for admission to the Junior
Class, though on account of his youth
he entered the Sophomore. His college
career was marked by great industry
and ability. His favorite studies, we
are told by his biographer, were rhe
toric, moral philosophy, and the ancient
classics. It was his custom to rise at
four o'clock in the morning and prepare
all the lessons of the day, while at
night he occupied his leisure with gene
ral reading and literary compositions for
declamation or debate in society meet
ings for which he had early displayed
a great aptitude. While in the Senior
Class in his eighteenth year, he was

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WILLIAM HENRY SEWARD.

281

almost a year from the college, six
months of which were passed as a
teacher in the State of Georgia. The
opinions on the subject of slavery
which have, in so marked a manner,
governed his political career are said to
have had their origin or been greatly
strengthened by his experience at this
time. Returning to college, he gradu
ated with distinguished eclat. The
subject of his commencement oration,
" The Integrity of the American Union,"
has proved, though in an unexpected
manner, significant of his career.-
Mr. Seward now applied himself, to
the study of the law, in which he had
the guidance of three eminent counsel
lors of the State, John Anthon, John
Diaer, and Ogden Hoffman. He was
admitted to the bar of the Supreme
Court, at Utica, in 1822, and early in
the following year took up his residence
in Auburn, where he was associated
in business with an eminent member
of the profession, Elijah Miller, then
first judge of Cayuga County, whose
daughter he married in 1824. Devot
ing himself assiduously to his profes
sion, the debating talent of Mr. Seward,
and his ability as a public speaker dis
played in numerous popular addresses,
naturally drew him into political life.
Opposed to the Albany Regency, the
Democratic organization which was
then all-powerful in the State, he en
tered upon a career of opposition which
in due time led to his leadership of the
new Whig party. In 1830, he was
elected a member of the State Senate,
being, it is said, the youngest member
that up to that time had entered that
body. He now became prominently

known by his support of the policy of
internal improvements, his advocacy of
the abolition of imprisonment for debt,
and other liberal measures. In 1833„
he visited England and France, and
other portions of the continent of
Europe, sending home a series of 'des
criptive letters which were afterward
published in the "Albany Evening
Journal." In 1834, he was a candidate
for Governor of the State, but lost the
election. Nominated a second time in
1838, the Whig party, for the first
time being now in the ascendant, he
was chosen by a majority exceeding
ten thousand. Again elected in 1840,
at the expiration of his second term, he
declined a renomination and retired
from the office. The four years which
he thus passed in this important posi
tion were marked by unwearied mental
activity and diligence, in discharge of
the duties of the office. Besides his
furtherance of the sytem of internal
improvements now so rapidly develop
ing the fortunes of the State, he was
prominently interested in a new and
more popular organization of the pub
lic Schools, which in its operation upon
the existing system in the city of New
York, being thought to favor certain
claims of the Roman Catholics, gave
rise to no little opposition on the part
of the so-called Protestant interest. In
the complicated questions of interna
tional law growing out of the McLeod
case he sustained the rights of the
countiy and the State. On his retire
ment from the office of Governor, Mr.
Seward resumed the practice of the
law at Auburn, from which he was
called in 1849. by his election to the

282

WILLIAM HENRY SEWARD.

United States Senate. In this new
sphere of duty he acted on a larger
theatre the character for usefulness
which he had established as State
Governor, advocating all means of in
creasing the resources of the country,
opening the public lands to settlers,
promoting the Pacific Railroad, and
other national internal improvements ;
while he kept steady in view the great
principles of freedom with which his
public life was identified.
It was the period of renewed agita
tion of the relations of the Government
to slavery, growing out of the acquisi
tion of territory in the recent war with
Mexico. To guard the vast territory
of the West, now stretching to the
Pacific, from the encroachments of the
slave power, was the work of the poli
tical leaders of the country — prominent
among whom was Mr. Seward — pledged
to the support of a national policy of
freedom. The debates on the admission
of California gave the new Senator an
opportunity to display his peculiar
powers. In- his able philosophical
speech on that occasion, delivered
March llth, 1850, he employed a
phrase, The Higher Law, which was
taken hold of by his opponents, who
endeavored to fasten it as a term of
reproach upon his party, as if it had
been uttered in opposition to the legal
claims of the Constitution. It was, in
fact, brought forward by him in sup
port of his interpretation of that in
strument. Speaking of the power of
Congress over the territories, "The
Constitution," said he, "regulates our
stewardship; the Constitution devotes
the domain to union, to justice, to de

fence, to welfare, and to liberty. But
there is a Higher Law than the Consti'
tution, which regulates our authority
over the domain, and devotes it to the
same noble purposes. The territory is
a part, no inconsiderable part, of the
common heritage of mankind, bestowed
upon them by the Creator of the uni
verse. We are his stewards, and must
so discharge our trust as to secure in
the highest attainable degree their hap
piness." The statesmen who create
the popular watchwords are invariably
thinkers; of philosophic perceptions,
and powers ; and like all philosophers
of fertile minds, accustomed to affairs
where energy is demanded, their genius
has a tendency to express itself in epi
grammatic form. Calhoun was a speak
er of this stamp, John Randolph an
other, and Mr. Seward, whether in speak
ing or writing is constantly making
points which are remembered. Seldom
have tAvo words had a profounder signi
fication or been more portentous as a
warning of the future than the simple
phrase "irrepressible conflict" which
he introduced in a speech at Rochester,
New York, during the Congressional
elections of 1 8 5 8. He had now, through
the administrations of Presidents Fill
more, Pierce, and the first half of Mr.
Buchanan's term of office, in opposition
to the Fugitive Slave Law, to the repeal
of the Missouri Compromise, in the pas
sage of the Kansas and Nebraska Bill,
to the attempt to force the Lecompton
Constitution upon Kansas, in the Senate
and out of it, opposed every measure
favoring the extension of the slave
power over the virgin free soil of the
nation, and he on this occasion re-

WILLIAM HENRY SEWARD.

283

minded the country anew of the war
of principles upon which it had, of ne
cessity entered. "Hitherto," said he,
in words whose prophetic force he him
self probably did not then fully antici
pate, " the two systems (slave and free
labor) have existed in different States,
but side by side, within the American
Union. This has happened because
the Union is a confederation of States.
But in another aspect the United States
constitute only one nation. Increase
of population, which is filling the States
Out to their very borders, together with
a new and extended net-work of rail
roads and Other avenues, and an inter
nal commerce which daily becomes
more intimate, are rapidly bringing the
States into a higher and more perfect
social unity, or consolidation. Thus
these antagonistic systems are con
tinually coming into closer contact ; and
collision results.
"Shall I tell you what this collision
means ? They who think that it is ac
cidental, unnecessary, the work of in
terested or fanatical agitators, and
therefore ephemeral, mistake the case
altogether. It is an irrepressible con
flict between opposing and enduring
forces, and it means that the United
States must and will, sooner or later,
become either entirely a slave-holding
nation, or entirely a free-labor nation."
That nothing revolutionary, of the char
acter of the civil war afterwards
brought about, was at this time favored
or even imagined by the speaker, we
may infer from the qualification which
he added expressly to guard against
. misapprehension. "If," said he, "these
States are' to again become universally

slave-holding, I do not pretend to say
with what violations of the Constitu
tion that end shall be accomplished.
On the other hand, while I do con
fidently believe and hope that my
countiy will yet become a land of uni
versal freedom, I do not expect that it
will be made so otherwise than "through
the action of the several States cooperat
ing with the federal government, and
all acting in strict conformity with
their respective Constitutions."
Previous to the close of his second
senatorial term, Mr. Seward, in 1859,
paid a second Arisit to Europe, extending
his tour to Egypt and the Holy Land.
He was now looked upon as a promi
nent candidate of the new Republican
party for the Presidency, as indeed, he
had been regarded by many at the pre
vious election. He had then given his
support to Fremont, as he had to Scott
in 1852. In 1860, he was supported
at the nominating Convention by the
delegates of New York, Massachusetts,
and six other States, receiving on the
first ballot more votes than Mr. Lincoln.
Promptly accepting the choice of the
latter, he entered heartily into the cam
paign, making numerous speeches, and
when the election was gained, was
called to the foremost place in the new
cabinet as Secretary of State. His
unwearied diplomatic activity in his
correspondence with foreign nations,
bringing into effective use all the re
sources of his cultivated mind, his
ready, fluent style, his mental ingenuity,
the spring and elasticity with which
he has maintained the integrity of hia
country, are matters of the history of
to-day.

ELISHA KENT KANE.

The eminent Arctic voyager was
oorn in Philadelphia, February 3, 1820.
He was of mixed descent, uniting in
his composition many of the finer ele
ments of American national life. His
great-grandfather, John Kane, the first
of the family who settled in the
countiy, was a native of Ireland,
adding another to the many instances
recorded in these volumes, where dis
tinguished energy and worth are traced
to that island. He came to America
about the middle of the eighteenth cen
tury, and married the daughter of the
Reverend Elisha Kent, a Puritan cler
gyman of Massachusetts. We find
the Kanes, subsequently, intermarrying
with the Van Rensselaers of New
York, the grandmother of the traveller
being of the latter family. On the
mother's side, he traced, his descent
from a lady celebrated during the
Revolutionary war for her many vir
tues. This was his great-grandmother,
Martha Gray, the wife of George Gray.
She was of the Moravian faith — her
husband of Quaker parentage; but
their mild origin did not hinder their
activity in the patriotic cause. During
the occupation of Philadelphia by the
British, Mrs. Gray, who was admirably
qualified for such beneficent duties,
ministered with unwearied assiduity to

284

the wants of the American prisoners,
assisted by her daughter, the wife of
Thomas Leiper, an ardent and efficient
patriot soldier, who supported the cause
by his purse and his services in the
field. The late Judge John K. Kane,
the father of the subject of this sketch,
married Jane Leiper, the daughter of
the couple just described.
The early years of their son Elipha—
he was the first of a family of seven
children — exhibited a childhood of un
usual spirit and activity. The boy was
active, resolute, afraid of nothing.
Courage seemed to be born with him.
His biographer, Dr. William Elder,
dwells Avith fondness upon this period
of his life, relating various anecdotes
of his prompt juvenile hardihood. On
one occasion, when he was not more
than nine, he interposed to shield his
younger brother from a flogging at
school. " Don't whip him," said he to
the schoolmaster, "he's such a little
fellow — whip me." At another time,
he is calling four or five bigger boys to
account, by climbing the roof of an out
building by the rain-spout, and securing
satisfaction from them, in their perilous
position, for their annoyance of some
girls below. His nerve and spirit gave
him the advantage. Another adven
ture, a singular, freak for any boy, was

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JoTmBon.Try & Co. Pu~b"Kfiliers, ITewYbrk. j

ELISHA KENT KANE

285

his climbing a high gable-chimney by
night, an ingenious and daring feat —
with no other object than the-pleasure
of doing it. Stories like these show the
man in the boy. Meanwhile, he exhibit
ed great reluctance to books and sys
tematic study, and the authority of pre
ceptors, while he amused himself with
chemistry, "Robinson Crusoe" and the
" Pilgrim's Progress." Reviewing these
early days, his biographer remarks:
" the boy had not a vice or a fault that
could spoil the man; but he had
scarcely an inclination that promised
success in the life designed for him.
There was riding at break-neck speed to
be done ; trees and rocks to climb ; peb
bles to pick ; dogs to train ; chemistry,
geology and geography to explore, with
his eyes and fingers on the facts;
sketching, whittling and cobbling to
do, with other heroics of muscle and
wind — all mixed in a medley of matter
and system, for which there was no
promising precedent, and no prophecy
of good."
This is not so very meagre a list of
acquisitions after all, for a youth under
sixteen, who was moreover crammed
with some school learning, for we find
his father taking him at that age to
Yale College for examination. The
irregularity of his preparation— his
knowledge of the natural sciences was
out of proportion to his other acquire
ments—placed him at a disadvantage,
and the University of Virginia, where
a choice of studies is allowed, was
chosen in preference to the New Eng
land institution. It is sad, in the midst
of these recitals, thus early to meet
with the first Avhisper of that affection
h.— 36

of the heart, which afflicted Kane
through life and was ultimately the
cause of his death. The struggle is
soon to come, probably the severest
pressure that can be put on a youth of
susceptibility and genius, keenly alive
to every impression. He made rapid
progress at the Virginia University in
his favorite study of the natural sci
ences and in mathematics, was explor
ing in field and mountain, and pushing
bravely on to his intended life employ
ment as a civil engineer, when he was
called away, taken home, with a severe
attack of illness — an inflammation of the
lining membrane of the heart. His life
was for awhile despaired of. When he
partially recovered, it was to learn the
danger of his fits of agony, and receive
the fatal sentence from the lips of his
physician, "You may fall, Elisha, as
suddenly as from a musket shot."
Here was something to be met
which would seem to require, all the
energy of a strong nature. It was
met with the spirit of a hero. The
lesson is the grandest presented by the
career of this noble spirited man — more
valuable to human life than any single
result of Arctic exploration. K he
that ruleth his spirit is stronger than
he who taketh a city, surely the man
who turns the very weakness and de
spair of nature to strength and bravery,
who rises where most fall, who digests
the heaviest grief humanity is capable
of, and finds in it the nutriment of true
greatness — success even physical as well
as mental — surely this man must be
pronounced a hero. There was a Spar
tan courage in the words of his father,
"Elisha, if you must die, die in the

286

ELISHA KENT KANE.

harness." He accepted the advice, and
in the striking language of his biogra
pher, "r*0se out of the wreck resolutely,
and retrieved his life in a strength
made his own by holding it in fee of
chivalric service." There was no at
tempt to escape the bitter knowledge.
He met his enemy face to face. Obliged
to relinquish the calling of an engineer,
he chose the profession of medicine
where he would be always in the com
pany of his grim antagonist, and learn,
if possible, to master him. At nine
teen he became a diligent student in
the office of Dr. William Harris, of
Philadelphia, and before he was twenty-
one was discharging the duty of resi
dent physician in the Pennsylvania
Hospital at Blockley Though inter
rupted by fits of illness he discharged
these double duties of study and prac
tice and received his medical diploma
in 1842, with the especial thanks of the
University of Pennsylvania from which
he graduated, "for his able and instruct
ive thesis," on Kyestine.
Fifteen years' of maimed and wound
ed life were before him. We shall see
how they were spent. He started on
the career destined to terminate in so
brilliant a crowning effort, as a surgeon
in the navy, after the usual examina
tion, when his physical infirmities were
overlooked for the sake of his other
qualifications. There being no vacancy
at that moment in the service, calling
for the regular discharge of his duty,
he was appointed by the influence of
his family and friends, physician to the
first American Embassy to China, of
which Mr. Caleb Cushing was placed
at the head. He accordingly sailed in

the frigate Brandywine, which was as
signed to the expedition, in May, 1843.
He had now in a measure, the oppor
tunity for which he ever afterwards
panted, that of constant activity. He
was an eager student on ship board and
when in port he was bent upon geo
graphical observation. At Rio, where
his vessel made a landing, he was ex
amining the geology of the Eastern
Andes ; at Bombay, where the deten
tion of Mr. Cushing in Europe kept
them some time waiting, he explored
the antiquities of the coast, and passing
to Ceylon, engaged in the gigantic
Avild sports and studied the grand and
beautiful vegetation of the island. At
Macao, he gained leave of absence from
the embassy, while it prosecuted its slow
work of diplomacy, and crossed over
and penetrated the island of Luzon,
the chief of the Philippines. This last
tour in the spring of 1844, was made
memorable by his hazardous explora
tion of the /volcano of Tael, into which
he descended, let down by a rope of
bamboo fastened round his body, more
than two hundred feet, from a project
ing platform in the mouth of this fear
ful crater. Arrived at the bottom, he
traversed the scalding ashes and pro
cured specimens of the water of the
smoking lake. The return presented
greater difficulties than the descent.
Half exhausted, his charred boots fall
ing from his feet, he regained the rope,
succeeded in attaching it to his person,
and was drawn up from the reeking
vapor almost insensible. He was the
first European who ever accomplished
this piece of hardihood ; his companion,
who started Avith him, shrinking from

ELISHA KENT KANE.

287

the effort. The natives were not likely
to make the attempt, apart from its
perils and disagreeable nature, since
they, not unnaturally, held the wild
sulphurous crater to be the home of
some peculiar deity, whose sanctity the
American traveller had impiously vio
lated. A party of them were quite
disposed to avenge on his person the
honor of the insulted divinity, by an
assault which was prevented only by a
timely show of revolvers.
Having satisfied the sentiment in
a thorough examination of Luzon,
Dr. Kane rejoined his companions of
the embassy in time to participate in
the closing proceedings and festivals
of the treaty at Macao* The mission
now' being at an end in China, he
resigned his position as physician to
the legation, and took up his residence
for awhile at Whampoa, practising his
profession with profit, till his career
was interrupted by a severe attack of
fever. This determined him to set his
face homeward. Arranging with a
companion to make the overland jour
ney, and, at the same time, improve the
opportunity of observation by the
way, he visited Singapore, Ceylon and
Hindostan, traversing the interior and
ascending the Himilayas. While jour
neying through the countiy, he made
the acquaintance of the wealthy noble,
Dwakanath Tagore, a native prince
about' to visit the court of Victoria, in
whose suite he traversed Persia and
Syria to Egypt. It is to be regretted
that we have no accounts of these and
other adventures from the pen of
Dr. Kane. An occasional brief, scanty
letter is all that remains — the pointed

phraseology of which makes us the
more regret the absence of other re
cords. His papers and journals, in
which much that was novel and inte
resting was doubtless written down,
comprehending all his previous tours
in the east, perished by accident or a
fraud of the natives, in his voyage on
the Nile.
He seems to have entered upon the
examination of Egypt with the full
exercise of all his powers of study and
observation. Looking with contempt
upon the popular narratives of .travel
in that region, he plunged into the
original works of Cailliaud and Wil-
kinson, " with the country itself for my
atlas," as he writes from the spot in
a letter which has been preserved.
" Thanks," he says, " to Dwakanath Ta
gore and the very meagre influence of
my China title, I have been elected a
member of the Egyptian Society — a
somewhat dubious honor which has
converted my boat into a library, and
condemned me to a fee of two pounds
six. Nothing," he adds, " can be more
exciting than the intelligent study of
Egyptian antiquities." He fell in with
Lepsius, then in the midst of the inves
tigations of his Prussian commission,
and diligently investigated his learn
ed labors. We find him at Thebes
sketching and lodged " in the palace-
temple of Sesostris," and tempting the
hardships of Upper Egypt and the
Desert. A climbing adventure, quite
in accordance with the old tastes of his
childhood, in attempting to ascend the
enormous statue of Memnon by' the
legs, was attended with considerable
peril. His Egyptian tour, of which no

288

ELISHA KENT KANE.

account beyond a single letter remains,
was closed in the early part of the
summer of 1845, with " his uniform
experience in every grand tour of his
life — an attack of the disease distinc
tive of the climate. The anemometers,
hygrometers, barometers and thermom
eters of the scientific traveller," adds
his biographer, " being no better indi
cators and registers of climatology,
than the varied sensitiveness of the
constitution he carried with him in all
his journeyings." The rice-fever of
China was thus succeeded by the
plague of Egypt ; but . some latent
energy in his composition carried the
traveller through, and we find him in
June making the tour of Greece on
foot from Athens. He traversed the
ancient Bceotia and Phocis, visiting
patriotic Thermopylae, the poetic haunts
of Helicon and Parnassus, and the orac
ular fount of Delphi ; thence crossing
the Corinthia Gulf, the modern Lepanto,
he explored every portion of the Morea.
All this was accomplished in about a
month, when he left the western coast
of Trieste; thence, in unresting haste,
through Germany, Switzerland — study
ing glacier formations — Italy, France
and England, home. This rambling
about the world suited his disposition,
perhaps was essential to his health, a
necessity, of his impaired constitution.
He was anxious to find means to con
tinue it, and made proposals while he
was in Europe to the Spanish autho
rities, to practice his profession at
Manilla ; but somehow the scheme fell
through. Arrived at Philadelphia, he turned
his ambition, we are told, " upon pro

fessional eminence, with a view to the
practice of medicine and teaching, as a
lecturer in Philadelphia. He took a
house in Walnut street, and furnished
an office in it with taste and elaborate
care. With his medical brethren he
kept a full round of engagements — -
chemical, anatomical, quiz and soiree."1
It was not in his nature long to be
content with this comparatively quiet
mode of life. War with Mexico was
imminent, and he was yet attached to
the navy, though he had not been
called into the service of that depart
ment. At length, in the spring of
1846, he received orders — to the coast
of Africa, and with a characteristic
resolution and sense of duty, made no
effort to escape the call. Once there,
of course, he interested himself in the
novel objects of the region, and signal
ized his cruise by a visit, accompanying
a caravan, to the monster King of Da
homey, witnessing his unparalleled vice
and brutality While his vessel was
sailing along the coast to the south
ward, the fever broke out; Dr. Kane
attended to the patients, and for a
while escaped, when he was stricken
doAvn, and after a struggle with the
disease of three weeks, was sent home
to America, in utter debility, as his
only chance of escape with life, by a
transport vessel from Liberia, He ar
rived at Philadelphia in the beginning
of April, 1847. It is well to be par
ticular with dates. His life "was short,
and it is important to observe how
closely his few years were croAvded with
arduous action.
Broken in health, almost too ill to
1 Elder's Biography, p. 100.

ELISHA KENT KANE.

289

ply his application with effect, his first
care, now that he found the naval ser
vice of the Mexican war mostly over,
was to solicit government for employ
ment in the army — so eager was his
thirst for honorable activity. Escap
ing again from a new attack of disease,
he renewed- his application at Washing
ton, and secured a special commission
to the commander-in-chief at the head
quarters of the army in Mexico, with
instructions to report to the home bu
reau his observations on the state of
the field and hospital organization.
Dr. Kane started on this expedition
from New Orleans, by the way of the
Gulf, on the 23d of November, 1847.
His voyage to Vera Cruz in the steamer
was a perilous one, encountering the
force of a powerful norther, which well-
nigh wrecked the vessel. The dragoon
horses for the army were driven over
board — they were compelled to sacri
fice them for safety — and Kane was on
the point of parting with his own spi
rited steed when some friendly officers
interposed. On landing, he proceeded
toward the capital by the usual route,
through Perote and upward, conduct
ed, the latter part of the way, by
a renegade spy-company of Mexi
cans, commanded by a notorious bri
gand named Domingues. He was ap
proaching Puebla, on the sixth of
January, with this escort, when the
party encountered a rival band of
Mexicans with several distinguished
officers, including General Torrejon,
making their way to Orizaba. A con
flict immediately ensued upon the two
companies coming upon one another on
the crest of a hill on the road, when

Domingues and his men were victori
ous. Dr. Kane fought resolutely in
this encounter, and Torrejon, with his
brother officers and thirty -eight rank
and file, were taken prisoners. In a
subsequent successful endeavor to re
strain the cruelty of Domingues, who
was about to sabre the captives, Dr.
Kane, who had especially in charge the
tAvo generals, Gaona and Torrejon, who
had surrendered to him, was himself
severely wounded in the side by a
blow from the butt of a lance, and his
noble steed, saved by the officers on the
voyage, was fatally pierced by a thrust
aimed at his rider. On reaching Pue
bla, Dr. Kane, was attacked with con
gestive typhus fever, the result of his
wound and exposure, when he was ten
derly nursed by the wife and daugh
ters of Gaona, whose life he had saved.
A circumstance which added to the
delicacy of this kindness was the fact,
that though Kane had gallantly inter
posed after the conflict in saving the
life of the host, it was by his hand that
the host's son, Colonel Gaona, received
a severe wound during the engage
ment. When he was carried to Mex
ico, at the end of February, still in q
disabled condition, Dr. Kane formally
reported to the commander-in-chief the
inhuman conduct of Domingues.
In consequence of his Avound, Dr.
Kane was unable to join the army in
his official capacity; he was pronounced
"unfit for duty," and was compelled,
reluctantly, to turn his face homeward.
He arrived, as usual, worn out and
disabled ; and, as usual, rallied during
the summer, under careful nursing.
Spite of wounds and diseases, the prim

290

ELISHA KENT KANE.

ciple of life was strong within him.
The next winter, in February, he is
again on the sea, attached to a store-
ship bound for the Mediterranean. A
sad letter on the voyage records in
words full of agony a threatened attack
of lock-jaw, with "an utter, unquali
fied conviction of inevitable death."
He returned in his ship by the way of
Rio, where he gained strength, to Nor
folk, in September. The beginning of
1850 found him employed on the coast
survey in the Gulf of Mexico, luxuri
ating in the tenderness of the southern
climate to his sensitive frame, and
meanwhile, such was the nature of the
man, eagerly waiting the result of his
applicatiou to the department as a
volunteer to join the projected govern
ment Arctic Expedition in search of
Sir John Franklin. As the most ad
venturous piece of daring in the ser
vice, the duty, trebly hazardous to his
enfeebled constitution, presented to him
a peculiar' fascination. But he was not
one of the class of invalids to rust out.
If life was to be short, so much the
more necessity for concentrating its
moments on the most important acts.
There is something sublime, under the
circumstances, in the resolve of the
man. Henceforth Kane is his own histo
rian in those marvellous narratives of
Arctic adventure which confer upon
him almost as distinguished fame as a
writer as discoverer. Style with him
was emphatically the man. Every
page is instinct with his emphatic vi
tality " On the twelfth of May," he
commences the narrative of his first
voyage, with that picturesque art which

was a part of his mind, " while bathing
in the tepid waters of. the Gulf of Mex
ico, I received one of those courteous
little epistles from Washington which
the electric telegraph has made so fami
liar to naval officers. It detached me
from the coast survey, and ordered me
to ' proceed forthwith to New York, for
duty upon the Arctic Expedition.'
Seven and a half days later, I had ac
complished my overland journey of
thirteen hundred miles, and in forty
hours more our squadron was beyond
the limits of the United States; the
department had calculated my travel
ling time to a nicety."
The story of Sir John Franklin will
always be read with interest — his early
voyages and journeys, coeval with the
modern efforts at discovery, his last
sailing forth, never to return, in 1845 ;
the successive efforts made by the
British Government for the recovery
of his party, linking many distinguished
names to his own ; the undying faith
and energy of Lady Franklin surviving
eveiy disappointment, to be successful
in solving the sad problem at last.
Such is the general outline of a narra
tive covering a period of fourteen years,
croAvded Avith brilliant adventure, stud
ded with the names of Richardson, Ross,
Roe, M'Clure, and others, ending with
M'Clintock; and firmly incorporated
with these, the American DeHaven,
Hayes, -Kane. The United States ex
pedition, commanded by DeHaven,
gallantly undertaken, at the instance of
Lady Franklin, sailed from New York
on the 22d of May, 1850, and consisted
of two brigs, the Advance and Rescue
presented for the service by Mr. Henry

ELISHA KENT KANE.

291

Grinnell, of New York, accepted and
officered by the Navy Department.
To the former of these vessels, of one
hundred and forty-four tons, Dr. Kane
was attached, with the rank of passed
assistant surgeon. He was personally
unknown to his commander DeHaven
when they met on the eve of the voy
age, and might readily have been re
jected by him on the score of bodily
insufficiency. Indeed, Dr. Kane bore
the voyage so ill — he was never proof
against sea-sickness — that on the arrival
of the Advance at the Whale Fish
Islands, at the entrance to Baffin's Bay,
when an opportunity for a return home
presented itself, Lieutenant DeHaven
strongly urged him to avail himself of
it. That, however, was not in the pro
gramme of Dr. Kane. He shortly re
covered strength, and proved himself
one of the most useful officers of this
perilous expedition.
The vessels were at Disco Bay on the
twenty-fourth of June. July was passed
in tugging up Baffin's Bay, between the
great central ice field and the coast of
Greenland, the end of the month bring
ing the party to Melville Bay; thence,
with many hardy ice struggles, de
scending by the northern passage and
Lancaster Sound through Barrow Straits
to Griffith Island, ascending to an ulti
mate point in Wellington Channel,
where, on the twenty-second of Sep
tember, the land to the north and west
was sighted, to which, by right of dis
covery, Captain DeHaven gave the
name Grinnell, in honor of the father
of the expedition. The arctic winter
was now upon them. On the first of
October the Advance seemed firmly

imbedded for the season in a perma
nent embankment of ice, and the work
of preparation for a winter sojourn was
commenced. To give greater accom
modation to the men, some five tons of
coal were taken from the hold and re
moved to a convenient position on the
ice. On the very day this was done, a
huge fissure suddenly cut the Advance
in a straight northerly and southerly
line from the entire floe on the star
board side. The separated piece, parting
a six-inch hawser, " retained the exact
impression of the ship's side. There it
was, with the gangway stairs of ice-
block masonry, looking down upon the
dark water." On the port side the ice
was fixed and enormous. In this posi
tion the AdA^ance awaited its fate. On
the twelfth of October there is this
entry in our traveller's diary : " Mid
night. They report us adrift. Wind,
a gale from the northward and west
ward. An odd cruise this ! The
American expedition fast in a lump of
ice about as big as Washington Square,
and driving, like the shanty on a raft,
before the howling gale." Thence, in
this prodigious drift, which had borne
them up Wellington Channel since the
middle of September, down that pas
sage, through the length of Barrow
Straits, across Lancaster Sound to Baf
fin's Bay, a passive struggle, if we may
use the term, of nine months, for they
were not entirely free, on an even keel,
till the eighth of June of the following
year. Nor let it be supposed that this
great transit was without danger or dif
ficulty. In one way the means of com
munication were provided for, Avithouf

292

ELISHA KENT KANE.

any trouble of making sail ; but there
were all sorts of perilous sensations to
be encountered. What with nipping,
grinding, crushing, upheaving and such
like incidents of ice formation, stimu
lated by storms and currents, with the
usual severities of the winter in those
regions, the expedition was kept in a
wholesome state of excitement. The
early incidents of the drift were of the
most perilous character, when the ves
sels were in momentary expectation of
some fatal disaster with the ice about
them in motion. It was expected they
would be crushed in the fearful en
counter, and at one time in December
the company of the Rescue left the brig
to take refuge with the Advance, where
the prospect was little, better. A few
words of Dr. Kane's diary may be taken
as an index to many pages : " Now the
little knapsack is made up again, and
the blanket sewed and strapped; the
little home Bible at hand, and the ice-
clothes ready for a jump." At times,
the prospect of taking to the ice would
not admit of the sledges which had
been prepared being employed, the
water about the vessel hardly furnish
ing a foothold; at others, the mess was
marshalled for drill and practice, " with
a sledge and four hundred pounds of
provender." The timbers and strongly
braced cross-beams of the vessel vi
brated " so as to communicate the pecu
liar tremor of a cotton factory." Dr.
Kane, meanwhile, studied the heavens,
the mid-day sun on the horizon, pre
ceding the mid-day moonlight; occa
sionally enjoyed a tramp on his ice
platform, and sometimes lectured to
the crew in the evenings on topics of

popular science, the atmosphere, the
barometer, etc. " They are not a very
intellectual audience," he observes;
" but they listen with apparent interest,
and express themselves gratefully."
Christmas came, and they feasted,
laughing and joking, of course with a
sober under current of home thoughts.
" It was curious," writes Kane, " to ob
serve the depressing influences of each
man's home thoughts, and absolutely
saddening the effort of each man to im
pose upon his neighbor, and be very
boon and jolly. We joked incessantly,
but badly; and laughed incessantly,
but badly too." At any rate, they ate,
and drank Mr. Grinnell's health, and
tumbled up on deck to theatricals,
where, under protection of course, the
thermometer was six degrees below
zero, kindly moderating to four. They
had the " Blue Devils," which required
a great deal of prompting. " Megrim,
with a pair of seal skin boots, bestowed
his gOld upon the gentle Annette ; and
Annette, nearly six feet high, received
it with mastodonic grace. Annette was
an Irishman named Daly, and I might
defy human being to hear her, while
balanced on the heel of her boot, ex
claim, in rich masculine brogue, ' Och,
feather ! ' without roaring." A joke is
a thousand-fold a joke in an Arctic
drift. Think of celebrating Washing
ton's birthday, as was done on board
of the Advance, with the mercury of
the ship's thermometer, outside, minus
forty-six, " inside, among audience and
actors, by aid of lungs, lamps and hous
ings, we got as high as thirty degrees
below zero, only sixty-two below the
freezing point ! — probably the lowest

ELISHA KENT KANE.

293

atmospheric record of a theatrical re
presentation." But our object here is
not to paint the rigors of an Arctic
winter— only to afford a glimpse of Dr.
Kan(;'s endurance, and his cheerfulness
and resources under adverse circum
stances. Theatrical performances were,
of course, but occasional ; the daily du
ties Avere constant, and foremost among
them was the preservation of health for
future labors, and of this the charge of
course fell to the surgeon of the Ad
vance. The success of the expedition
in this respect was greatly owing to his
example and energy
After a visit to the Greenland settle
ments of Proven and Uppernavik, an
unsuccessful attempt Avas made to cross
the pack with a view to resuming the
search through Wellington Channel,
when Capt. DeHaven, following his in
structions, turned homewards. The Al
liance reached New York, September 30,
1851 ; the Rescue, shortly afterwards.
Kane was no sooner home than he
turned his attention to a second expe
dition to the region he had left behind
him. It w*as his desire at first to start
the ensuing spring, but other duties
were in store for him---the most serious,
attendance at the bedside of a dying
younger brother, a youth of fifteen,
another heroic member of the family.
Then his book, the account of his voyage,
was in preparation, and the exacting,
unaccustomed labor taxed his strength
heavily. He appears to have published
nothing before, if we except his medi
cal treatise ; his letters do not seem to
haAre been frequent, and though, when
he did take pen in hand, he always
wrote to the purpose it was evidently

altogether from impulse, not from any
great desire or trained habit of writing.
This, Avhile it Avas an advantage to mm
in one respect, was an inconvenience in
another. It gaYe to his writing an un
hackneyed spirit and freshness; but
when method and exactness were re
quired and his fastidiousness could not
dispense with them, dash and brilliancy
could serve him little. They could not
spare him the drudgery which belongs
more or less to all regular authorship,
especially with topics of a scientific
nature. When the book was written,
it proved a bright, intelligent picture
of its subject, and an honest representa
tion of the man, perfectly self-reflecting
and as remarkably modest and truthful.
His ready use of his pencil in the illus
trations Avhich he added to the book,
showed the taste and capacity of a
good artist, and were admirable accom
paniments to his picturesque language.
This work which, in recognition of
the joint nature of the exploration, bore
the title, " The United States Grinnell
Expedition in Search of Sir John Frank
lin — A Personal Narrative," Avas going
through the press, having been delayed
on the eve of publication, in December,
by the fire of the Messrs. Harpers' es
tablishment in New York, where it was
printed, when its author started on his
second Arctic journey. This was still
more of a private enterprise than the
other. Mr. Grinnell again furnished
the Advance, the eminent merchant,
Mr. Peabody, paid largely, the' Geo
graphical and other societies made
important contributions, the Navy De
partment, at Washington, also lent its
aid ; wbile Dr. Kane, himself, bestowed

VOL. II.-

-37

294

ELISHA KENT KANE.

considerable sums, the proceeds of lec
tures delivered by him the previous
winter, on Arctic discovery. By the
intelligent aid of Mr. Kennedy, at the
time Secretary of the Navy, an order
had been issued, connecting the Expe
dition to a certain extent with the
government. His plan was to unite
an overland expedition with his mari
time adventure, to sail to a northern
point of Greenland, disembark, and tra
verse the country on sledges to an open
Polar sea, of which he inferred the exis
tence, when he might examine the
coast lines for traces of the missing Sir
John Franklin and his men.
The Advance, with Dr. Kane as its
commander, Henry Brooks, first-officer,
Dr. Isaac J. Hayes, surgeon, August
Sontag, astronomer, and a crew of four
teen men, ten sent by the navy depart
ment, set sail from New York on her
second voyage, on the 30th May, 1853.
The instructions of the Secretary of the
Navy, in accordance with the plans of
Dr. Kane, were " to conduct an over
land journey, from the upper waters
of Baffin's Bay to the shores of the
Polar Seas." Traversing the waters of
Baffin's Bay, the Advance penetrat
ed with difficulty the upper waters
along the coasts of Greenland, till
her further movements were finally ar
rested by the ice, in the distant lati
tude 78° 43' N., reached at the end of
August. On the tenth of September,
the brig was fairly frozen in at a spot,
named by Dr. Kane, Rensselaer Har
bor, and there, on the eighth of June,
1855, she was finally abandoned. This
interval of twenty-one months, inclu
ding the rigors of two winters, spent

under terrific hardships, comprehends
the period of exploration and discov
ery of the expedition ; if we may ex
cept from this honorable designation,
the severe trials and experiences of the
final retreat. It was variously occupied
in tours of examination along the far
coast of Greenland to the open north
ern sea, the discovery of which con
firmed to a great extent, the previous
theories of the commander. «The his
tory of these explorations, vividly re
corded, in the pages of Dr. Kane's
volumes, presents one of the most for
midable struggles ever encountered
with the obstacles of nature, by the
courage and physical strength of man.
To the absolute privations of cold were
added the most fearful forms of spas
modic disease in lock-jaw, wThich, like
the pestilence of Apollo among the
Trojans, extended its ravages to the
swift dogs — a main dependence of the
party. Fifty-seven of these indispensa
ble animals, procured on the voyage
at the Esquimaux settlements below,
perished the first season, while the men
were racked with these unaccustomed
tortures in "the lengthened cold and
darkness." In March, a party was or
ganized for exploration from the brig,
under Mr. Brooks. They Avere met,
on the ninth day, by a heavy gale,
Avith the thermometer fifty-seven de
grees below zero; the leader and
three of his companions were so
frozen as to be incapable of further
motion, and were left with one atten
dant, while the rest returned to the
Advance for succor. -Dr. Kane took
the command of the relief party, pro-
videntially struck the trail, and reached

ELISHA KENT KANE.

295

the small canvas tent of his comrades,
almost covered with the snow-drift.
Twice he fainted on the way in the
snow, in this unbroken march of twenty-
one hours, with the thermometer in the
neighborhood of fifty degrees below
zero. The return to the brig was
equally hazardous. The invalids were
packed in bales or the single sledge,
and so they were borne over and
around the ridgy hummocks of that
fearful march by their companions.
Life was preserved only by a hand to
hand fight. with death, and at the end
of a journey of eighty-one sleepless
hours out of eighty-four, there was not
one, says Kane, whose mind was found
to be unimpaired. Jefferson Baker,
one of the party, died within two days
of lock-jaw.
Other journeys, determining the coast
line, were undertaken in April and
May, under the command of Dr. Kane,
and in June by Dr. Hayes. And in the
next month, William Morton, with
Hans Heindrick, penetrating to the
most distant point yet reached in this
direction, at the latitude of about
eighty-one, discovered to the north
west, a channel and the expected open
sea. There, looking forth "from a
height of four hundred and eighty feet,
which commanded an horizon of almost
forty miles, his ears were gladdened
with the novel music of dashing waves ;
and a surf, breaking in among the
rocks at his feet, stayed his farther
progress."1 Morton gratefully called
this cape after the name of his com-
•nander, but Kane, with characteristic
1 Kane's 2d Expedition, I. 805.

modesty, named it Constitution. . To
the vast northerly inland region, of
Greenland, he gave the name Washing
ton. The hardships of the second winter
endured by the brig's company were
an aggravation of those of the first.
The health of the men was greatly im
paired, and their scant provision com
pelled them to use articles of food
which induced scurvy. "Mr. Bonsall
and myself only," says Kane of this
trying time, " remained able io attend
upon the sick and carry on the daily
work of the ship, if that name could
still appropriately designate the bur
row which we inhabited." " A set of
scurvy-riddled, broken-down men," he
elsewhere -calls his company at this
time. It was a matter of duty, Kane
thought, to stand by his vessel, and not
risk the chances of leaving her on the
edge of winter ; but, thinking the case
a peculiar one, he left his men free to
follow their own determination. Con
sequently, at the end of August, eight
of the party, with Dr. Hayes, the sur
geon of the expedition, having received
a liberal portion of the supplies, set out
on their journey to the settlements.
The hardships which they experienced,
recounted in Dr. Hayes' published nar
rative, like the books of his commander,
a memorable record of courage and en
durance, confirmed . the worst anticipa
tions from their setting out. They were
obliged to return to the ship in Decem
ber from their protracted journey.
These, however, or the like adventures,
were to be repeated by all in the early
summer of the next year, when the
vessel was abandoned, and a journey

296

ELISHA KENT KANE.

partly by boats, partly by sledges, en
countering the most arduous difficulties
of Arctic travel, brought the company
to Upernavik on the sixth of August,
1855. There they took passage in a
Danish vessel, Avith the expectation of
being landed at the Shetland Isles,
when, touching on the voyage at Disco
Bay, they were opportunely met by
the vessels, the Ptelief and Advance,
sent out by the government, under the
command of Captain Hartstene, for
their recovery. The meeting of the
friends in the harbor — terminating the
long series of trials of Kane and the
brave and adventurous voyaging of
Hartstene — simply but vividly narrated
in the closing passages, of Dr. Kane's
second narrative, is a meet • conclusion
of these heroic wanderings. " We were
on the eve of setting out," says Kane in
these last sentences, alluding to the
Danish vessel then at Lievely, " when
the look-out man at the hill-top an
nounced a steamer in the distance. It
drew near, Avith a barque in tow, and
we soon recognized the stars and
stripes of our own country The Faith1
was lowered for the last time into the
water, and the little flag which had
floated so near the poles of both hemi
spheres, opened once more to the breeze.
. . . Presently we were alongside.
An officer, whom I shall ever remem
ber as a cherished friend, Captain
Hartstene, hailed a little man in a
ragged flannel shirt, ' Is that Dr. Kane?'
and with the ' Yes !' that followed, the
rigging was manned by our country
men, and cheers welcomed us back to

1 The boat Which they had brought from the Advance,
flow preserved at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

the social world of love which they
represented."
The party reached New York on the
eleventh of October, and the city and
country hailed their arrival; for seve
ral years of trial on that distinguished
theatre of action had fixed the minds
of the people upon these gallant adven
turers. The extent of the interest cre
ated may be judged by the avidity with
which the somewhat expensive narra
tive of the last voyage was subscribed
for — -the sale reaching in one year the
hitherto unprecedented number, for a
work of the kind, of sixty-five thousand
copies. In the preparation of this
work Kane Avas soon diligently en
gaged ; but, as he had left his previous
book on its completion to sail to the
north, so he was compelled to run away
from the completed manuscript of the
second — to regain the health, if possi
ble, which he had lost- while writing it.
He. dates his preface the fourth of July,
but the appendix continued to occupy
him. The book had just been pub
lished when its author sailed to Europe
from New York in the Collins' steamer
Baltic, the tenth of October, 1856,
"accompanied," in the words of Dr.
Elder, " by the faithful Morton, whc
had gone with him to the world's end,
and was now to go with him to the
end of his life." Consumptive symp
toms were now added to his old diffi
culties, which were aggravated by the
fogs of London at the untimely season
of his arrival. He passed but eight
days in the capital, and was too ill to
attend the meeting of the Royal Geo
graphical-Society, Avhich sent its Presi
dent to his lodgings Avith its resolutions

ELISHA KENT KANE.

297

of admiration. Following medical ad
vice, he sailed immediately for a warmer
latitude in the West Indies, reached St.
Thomas, became fearfully ill on his
voyage thence to Cuba, which he reach
ed on Christmas Day. Here, at Havana,
joined by his mother and brother from
New York, he lingered out the feeble
remnant of life till the day of his death,
having just completed his thirty-seventh
year, the sixteenth of February, 1857.
Every honor was paid the remains
of the voyager whose fate it was to die
in the city Avhich held the ashes of
Columbus. v The University and the
authorities of Havana, the citizens of
New Orleans, of Louisville, Cincinnati,
Columbus, Baltimore, through which
cities his body was conducted in one
great funeral procession to Philadel
phia, marked the occasion by appro
priate ceremonies. The services at
Philadelphia were peculiarly imposing.
His remains were finally laid in the
family tomb at Laurel Hill cemetery.

The superiority of mind to body
never had a more striking illustration
than in the case of Dr. Kane. He tri
umphed by sheer energy of Avill. The
fiery spirit which might have worn out
others quickened and exalted him. In
his vivid conceptions and striking lan
guage he was essentially a poet — one
of those who lives thrice the Hfe of
common men in quickness and sensibi
lity. So that we may not pronounce his
life short or his death untimely. His
eager spirit wrung from fate a triumph
ant experience seldom granted even to
fourscore. He achieved fame and suc
cess in the eye of the world in a noble
sphere of action, and has left a most
enduring monument of his exertions in
his truthful and eloquent Avntings.
Had he lived, he doubtless would have
added to his fame a great reputation in
science, upon which his mind was bent;
but he has left enough in this depart
ment to cause his name for that also to
be permanently remembered

CHARLES WILKES.

Tins eminent naval officer was born
in the city of New York, in the year
1801. Of a family and connexions of
high standing in the community, he
chose the navy for a pursuit, at a time
when its heroes of the war of 1812
were at the height of their reputation,
and the enticements of the profession
were most fascinating to an ingenuous
youth. He entered the service about
the age of fifteen. He was with Com
modore McDonough on the Mediter
ranean station, in 1819 and 1820, and
the following year with Commodore
Stewart on the Pacific, where he ac
quired a reputation by his services
which gained him a separate command.
He was promoted in 1826, to a lieute
nancy. In 1830, he was appointed to
the charge of the depot of charts and
instruments at Washington, Avhen, says
his biographer, in "Appleton's Cyclo
paedia," " he was the first in the United
States to set up fixed astronomic instru
ments and observe with them. The
observatory was in his own garden,
where he was prevented from enclosing
in a permanent structure the stone
piers to which his instruments were
attached, by an informal notice from
the Navy Department that a National
Observatory was unconstitutional." He
was subsequently engaged in a diffi-

S83

cult and successful survey of George's
Bank. When the United States Government
had, after many suggestions on the sub
ject, finally resolved, agreeably to the
precedents of various European nations,
upon setting on foot a National Ex
ploring Expedition on a liberal scale,
Lieutenant Wilkes was chosen its com
mander. The act of Congress author
izing the expedition, was passed in the
spring of 1836. Its main object was
to facilitate American commerce in the
interests of the whale fisheries and
other advantages in the vast middle
and South Pacific ocean, by a thorough
exploration of that sea with its various
groups of islands, and the preparation
of accurate charts for the safety of
future voyagers. Ample provision was
made in the appointment of scientific
men of well settled reputation, to take
charge of the different departments of
observation. Two naturalists, Charles
Pickering and T. R. Peale; a mineral
ogist, James D. Dana ; a botanist, Wil
liam Rich ; a philologist, Horatio Hale ;
two draughtsmen, Joseph Drayton and
Alfred Agate, were among the persons
of this class assigned to the expedition
Five vessels were selected for the ser
vice, the sloops of war Vincennes and
Peacock, the brig Porpoise, and tAvo

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CHARLES WILKES.

299

New York pilot boats converted into
the tenders renamed Sea-gull and Fly
ing Fish. These constituted the squad
ron of which Ijieutenant Wilkes was
appointed commander. His instruc
tions, prepared by the Secretary of the
Navy, the eminent, author J. K. Paul
ding, marked out the track of the ex
pedition. It Avas to sail from Norfolk
by way of Rio Janeiro to the Rio
Negro and Terra del Fuego, where the
Porpoise, with the tenders, was to pro
ceed to an exploration of the southern
antarctic. Rejoining its comrades, the
whole squadron, after sweeping a A-ast
track of the southern ocean, Avere to put
in to Valparaiso for supplies, visit next
various groups of islands,. the Naviga
tors, Feejee and others, making for
Sydney in New Holland, whence a
second attempt was to be made to
penetrate within the antarctic region
south of Van Dieman's land. The
Sandwich Islands, with the north west
coast of America, Oregon, and Cali
fornia were afterward to be visited,
when the expedition, coming to the Sea
of Japan and the coasts of China, was
to return home by the way of the Cape
of Good Hope. Such was the compre
hensive plan .entrusted to Lieutenant
Wilkes and his able coadjutors. Its
execution occupied nearly four years
from the date of leaving Norfolk in
August, 1838, to the return to New
York in June, .1842. The design was
successfully carried out, the various
lands indicated were visited, and abun
dant observations taken of their poli
tical, social, physical,. and material con
ditions ; of what nature had done for
them, and how man was employing his

opportunities. In addition to the sur
vey of regions within the usual path
of commerce, the adventure and ori
ginal- observations in the antarctic
cruise in the beginning of 1840," en
titled the expedition to the honors of
discovery. For this and other con
tributions to scientific knowledge in
this extensive voyage, Lieutenant
Wilkes was awarded the gold medal of
the Geographical Society of London. In
1845, he published his "Narrative of the
United States Exploring Expedition,'-
in five volumes, . amply illustrated by
the artists who accompanied him. It is
not merely an interesting account of
the various vicissitudes and sea-adven
tures of the voyage, but a valuable
summary of the multifarious knowledge
acquired in the different departments
of the expedition.
In 1849, commander Wilkes pub
lished a second work entitled " Western
America, including California and Ore
gon," which was welcomed for its im
portant contributions to the knowledge
of a region whose sudden rise as the
seat of empire on the Pacific was to be
a wonder even among the rapid tri
umphs of American civilization. Cap
tain Wilkes— -he attained the rank in
1855 — continued to be employed in
home duty till, in the first year of the
rebellion, he was sent in command of
the steamsloop San Jacinto, to the coast
of Africa. It was on his return from
this voyage that an event occurred
which brought Captain Wilkes pro
minently before the world and en
grafted his name on the history of
maritime jurisprudence.
On his approach to the American

300

CHARLES WILKES.

coast, Captain Wilkes, at the island of
St. Thomas, learning of the movements
of the Confederate war vessel Sumter,
went in search of her in the Gulf of
Mexico. Hearing that the Confederate
ambassadors Messrs. Mason and Slidell
had escaped the blockade of Charles
ton, and Avere on their way to Europe,
he resolved to intercept them. The
vessel in which they had embarked
reached Havana, where the ambassa
dors took passage in the British steamer
Trent. Assuring himself to his satis
faction of his legal rights in the pre
mises, Captain Wilkes determined to
lie in wait for the Trent . and remove
her " contraband " passengers. He ac
cordingly, on the eighth of NoA^ember,
1861, stopped the Trent in the Ba
hama Channel, off the coast of Cuba,
and demanded the surrender of the
" ambassadors." The proceeding was
conducted with all due courtesy, but
naturally in the existing temper of
British officials, produced something of
a scene on board the steamer. " Much
persuasion," says Captain Wilkes, " was
employed, and a little force," when the
ambassadors and their secretaries of the
legation were secured and carried off
in triumph. On the 15th, the San
Jacinto, with her extraordinary passen
gers, reached Hampton Roads, whence
she proceeded to New York, where she
was met by an order to carry the
prisoners to Fort Warren, in Boston

harbor. At Boston, at New York, and
elsewhere, Captain Wilkes was feted
for his energetic proceeding, which was
generally commended. The laAvyers
approved of the act, and Captain
Wilkes justified the arrest of the am
bassadors as "the embodiment of des
patches," a solution as ingenious as
General Butler's solution of the negro
difficulty in an early period of the war,
by liberating and employing the colored
man under the new name which he
gave him of " contraband;" Congress
also, at the opening of the session, en
dorsed the act, but the Government
did not commit itself. The subject
passed into the hands of Mr. Seward,
the Secretary of State, who, anticipat
ing the demands of England, held the
affair open for diplomatic consideration.
The claims of Great Britain were con
sequently met with dignity, and though
Messrs. Mason and Slidell. were sur
rendered, some important American
principles regarding the rights of neu
trals were established in the dis
cussion. Subsequently to this affair, in 1862,
Captain Wilkes was raised to the rank
of Commodore, and in August of that
year was placed in command of the
flotilla in James' River. He afterward,
as acting Rear Admiral, sailed in com
mand of a squadron sent in quest of
the Confederate privateers or vessels of
Avar in the West Indies.

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WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH.

This distinguished officer of the Mex
ican war, who led his gallant division
in' so many important actions from the
first arrival Of General Taylor at the
Rio Grande to the last victory of Gen
eral Scott at the capital, .was bom in
Hudson, Columbia county, New York,
March 1, 1794. His family was of an
old New England stock. We are told,
. in the brief accounts of his life which
have been published, little of his early
education. He appears to have been
well instructed in the ordinary English
branches, and being a youth of decided
ability, he needed little more to ad
vance him in the world. It is said that
when he was quite young he was en
gaged as a clerk in a store at Albany ;
but he could not have been long em
ployed in merchandise, for we find him
at the age of eighteen, on the breaking
out of the war of 1812, occupied in the
service of General Morgan Lewis as his
secretary, and in the spring of the fol
lowing year accompanying that officer
to the scene of military -operations on
the Canada frontier with the rank of
lieutenant. In the capture of Fort
George, in the month of May, he acted
as aid to General Lewis, and in the fol
lowing November reappears in the en
gagement at Chrystler's Farm on the
St. Lawrence, his name being especially
rr.— 38

mentioned with honor in the dispatch
of General Boyd, who commanded on
that occasion.
He continued in service on the fron
tier, and in the spring of the following
year was diligently employed in study
ing the art of war in the drill operations
and manoeuvres of General Scott's cele
brated "Camp of Instruction" at Buf
falo. We learn this from the correspon
dence which passed between the young
officer and his friend General Lewis,
who invited him in June to New York
to become once more a member of his
military family. It was on the eve of
the movement of Scott's brigade toward
the field of Chippewa that the ardent
young soldier replied, " having partici
pated in three months' fatigues of the
Camp of Instruction, the enemy being
Avithin striking distance, separated only
by the Niagara, which we cross on the
morrow, and the battle-field in view
will, I trust, excuse my choice. The
campaign promises to be a stirring one,
and you, I am sure, would not pardon
my leaving."
A few days after this manly letter
was sent the battle of Chippewa was
fought, and how well the writer kept
the promise of his epistle on that occa
sion is witnessed in the generous tri
bute of General Scott to his merits in

801

302

WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH.

the field, where he served as one of his
aids. "His zeal and intrepidity won
the admiration of the whole brigade."
He also received the acknowledgment
of his services in promotion to the rank
of captain. He was, again, in the sequel
of this fight in the campaign, the still
more deadly engagements at Niagara
and Lundy's Lane. In that series of
close encounters few who did their duty
could escape, and Worth, like the brave
officer whom he served, bore with him
painful proof of valor from the field.
He was incapacitated for further duty
in the war now approaching its close
by his severe wound ; but he bore Avith
him to his retirement the dearest
rewards of the soldier in the honors
of that brilliant campaign on the Niag
ara River. "The conduct of Captain
Worth, iny aid-de-camp," Avrote Gene
ral Scott in his dispatch to the war
department, "was marked with his
usual skill and gallantry. I had already
derived much benefit from' his services,
when he received a wound, at the mo-
ment believed to be mortal, in the act
of passing through a blaze of fire to
communicate an order. His conduct in
this second affair will not only bear a
comparison with his own services in
the first, but with the services of any
other officer of his rank in either
action." In recompense for these dis
tinguished services, he received the fur
ther rank of major.
Major Worth was for a year con
fined to his bed and room by his
wound, which left him with a lameness
for life. On his recovery he Avas
appointed commandant at West Point,
and served for many years at that mili

tary academy as instructor of tactics.
In 1824, he was promoted to the rank of
lieutenant-colonel. In 1832, he received
his commission as major of ordnance.
In 1835, he was voted a sword by
the legislature of NeAV York for his
ability as an officer and for his personal
bravery in the battles of the late war
with Great Britain. In 1838, as colo
nel of the eighth regiment of infantry,
he was employed on the Niagara fron
tier in allaying the disturbance excited
by the insurgent Bill Johnson, in what
is known as the patriot war. His firm
ness and consideration in the discharge
of this delicate duty exhibited the
higher qualities of the soldier.
It was his good fortune, also, after the
laborious efforts of many distinguished
officers who had taken part in the vex
atious struggle, to bring the Florida
war to a termination. He was the last
officer placed in command by the gov
ernment in that region, succeeding Gen
eral Armistead at the head-quarters of
the army at Tampa Bay, on the 31st
of May, 1841. The war had then been
in progress for more than five years
accumulating about the army a herd of
camp followers, civilians who fattened
on the government contracts for pro
visions, transportation, and the numer
ous necessities of the army in this novo".
and difficult region. "The army of
Florida," says the historian of the war,
" had become a component part of a
civil government, to which it was in
many respects subservient. The influ
ences operating were unmilitaryin cha
racter and effect."1 It was necessary

1 Sprague's Florida War, p. 268.

WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH.

303

to break through this system as well as
to follow up the enemy with vigor.
The first order of the new commander
exhibits the spirit with which he
encountered the Avork before him. It
enjoins that all expenditures of. money
on account of barracks, etc., at tempo
rary posts, except such slight covering
as might be indispensable, must be first
sanctioned at head-quarters ; it revokes
all safeguards and passports granted to
Indians, thus cutting off a prolific
source of treachery; it requires the
incessant scouring of the country adja
cent to the numerous posts, removing
all restraints previously imposed upon
district commanders in respect to offen
sive field operations, and- provides for
three reports each month of the results
of this activity. The energy imparted by
proceedings like these brought the war
to an early termination. In April, 1842,
Colonel Worth himself directed the
movements and bore part in the decisive
engagement which led to the capture of
the redoubtable chieftain Halleck Tus-
tenuggee, the last formidable supporter
of the war. The greater part of the
remaining hostile Indians were removed
from the country, and in August the
pacification Avas pronounced complete.
Worth, ever acquitting himself with
honor where, distinction was attainable,
always came out of his campaigns with
fresh promotion. His well-earned titles
were the result of actual service. Thus,
as we have, seen, his conduct at Chip
pewa and Niagara followed by his bre
vet commissions as captain and major,
and his lieutenant-colonelship following
" ten years faithful service in the grade
of brevet major;" so, for his "gallantry

and highly distinguished services as
commander of the forces, in the war
against the Florida Indians," he re
ceived, in August, 1842, the commis
sion of brigadier-general by brevet.
On the first movement of the army
of occupation toward the Rio Grande,
the initial step of the war with Mexico,
General Worth was with the force of
General Taylor, gallantly leading the
way in the first venturous crossing of
the Colorado. When the army reached
its station opposite Matamoras, he was-
employed in the preliminary conferences
with the Mexican authorities at that
place. In one of these unsatisfactory
negotiations he was met by General
Vega, with whom he sustained a spi
rited colloquy on the relations of the
two countries. The replies of General
Worth were direct and to the point.
"Is it," he was asked, "the intention of
General Taylor to remain on the left
bank of the Rio Grande?" "Most
assuredly," was his answer, " and there
to remain until directed otherwise by
his government." The Mexican Gene
ral thereupon expressed his indignation
at seeing the American flag on the
bank of the river on Mexican territory.
"That," replied Worth, "is a matter
of taste; but notwithstanding, there it
Avould remain." He also remarked
that General Mejia, then in chief com
mand at Matamoras, might, "by a very
simple operation, determine when and
where the war should begin, but it
would be for the United States to say
when and where it should end." 1
Owing to some unlucky agitation of
1 Thorpe's " Our Army on the Bio Grande," p. 2S.

a point of etiquette, which led to his
resignation of his commission, General
Worth was not present in the battles of
Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, but
their echoes speedily called him again
to the field. He withdrew his resig
nation, hastened to the camp at Mata
moras, and in the subsequent advance
upon Monterey was entrusted with one
of the most important movements of
the siege. He had the independent
command of the operations on the west
ern side of the toAvn, General Taylor
himself personally directing those on
the east and south. The success of both
was indispensable to the successful
issue of the 23d of September. Gene
ral Worth turned the greater works of
the city and cut off the enemy's retreat
on their rear, making a simultaneous
advance into the heart of the city with
the storming parties from the other
side. This advantage was hot, however,
gained without hard fighting. He had
first to take some formidable defences
which lay in his path. On the 21st, he
directed the storming of the works
commanding on one side of the valley
the approach to the town — the forts
named Federacion and Soldado. They
were gallantly carried under his orders,
and the advantage of position thus
gained led the next day to the conquest
Of the chief remaining work on that
side, the fortified hill on which the
Bishop's Palace was situated. The city
was then open to the invaders. On the
morning of the 23d, General Worth,
hearing a heavy fire from the opposite
quarter, concluded that a main attack
by General Taylor was in progress, and
resolved to second it by storming the

town. The details of the operation, as
given in his dispatch, will show some
thing ' of the courage and spirit with
Which this contest, on the third day of
hard fighting, was carried on. _ An
attack like this, in open daylight in the
streets of a city where every house was
in a measure a fortress, could hardly be
excelled in peril. "Two columns of
attack were organized, to move along
the two principal streets, leading from
our position in the direction of the
great plaza, composed of light troops
slightly extended, with orders to mask
the men whenever practicable; avoid
those points swept by the enemy's artil
lery ; to press on to the first plaza, Ca-
pella ; to get hold of the ends of the
streets beyond, then enter the build
ings, and by means of picks and bars
break through the longitudinal section
of the walls ; work from house to house,
and, ascending to the roofs, to place
themselves upon the same breast-height
with the enemy Light artillery by
sections and pieces followed at suitable
intervals, covered by reserves to guard
the pieces, and the whole operation
against the probable enterprises of ca
valry upon our left. This was effec
tually done by seizing and command
ing the head of every, cross street. The
streets were, at different and well-cho
sen points, barricaded by heavy ma
sonry walls, with embrasures for one
or more guns, and in every instance
well supported by cross batteries. These
arrangements of defence gave to our
operations at this moment a compli
cated character, demanding much care
and precaution ; but the work went on
steadily, simultaneously and success

WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH.

305

fully. About the time our assault com
menced, the fire ceased from our force
in the opposite quarter. Disengaged
on the one side, the enemy was enabled
to shift men and guns to our quarter,
as was soon manifested by accumula
tion of fire.: At dark we had worked
through the walls and squares, and
reached to within one block of the
great plaza, leaving a covered- way in
our rear ; carried a large building which
towered over the principal defences, and
during the night and ensuing morning,
crowned its roof with two howitzers
and a six-pounder. All things were
. noAV prepared to renew the assault at
dawn of day, when a flag was sent in,
asking a momentary suspension of fire,
which led to the capitulation upon
.terms so honorable to our arms." 1 At
the head of the American commissioners
who negotiated this capitulation stood
General Worth, and to him was appro
priately assigned the government of the
town when the enemy withdrew. The
department at Washington again re
sponded to the gallant deeds of Briga
dier-General Worth, conferring upon
him by a commission dated May 4, 1847,
the rank of major-general by brevet,
from the 23d September, 1846, the day
of the surrender, " for gallant and meri
torious conduct in the several conflicts
at Monterey."
¦After these scenes, General Worth
was stationed with his division at Sal
tillo, prepared to take part in the on
ward expedition of General Taylor into
the heart of Mexico, when the move
ments of that line of the army were

i General Worth's Report to Major BliaS, Monterey,
September 28. 1846.

suddenly arrested to favor the new
campaign under General Scott, directed
to the capital by Avay of Vera Cruz.
Foremost among the forces of the army
of the Rio Grande, diverted to the ap
proaching enterprise, was the command
of regulars under General Worth. He
made preparations for his departure to
the new scene of operations in Janu
ary, and was with General Scott at th e
first landing of his forces at Vera Cruz
To him was accorded the post of honoi
in leading the way in the disembarka
tion of the troops, and when this bril
liant operation of the 9th of March,
1847, was successfully accomplished, to
Worth's division Avas assigned the im
portant position on the southeast of
the city. His brigade had its full share
of the arduous duties of the invest
ment and siege — duties formidable
under any circumstances, but enhanced
in this case by the inclemency of the
climate and the want of the usual
facilities for land operations. The bat
teries, however, Once in order, Avere
served Avith terrible effect, and the
result was the capitulation on the
twenty-seventh of the month, negoti
ated on the part of the Americans by
a commission, of which General Worth
was placed at the head. He had per
formed the like service, as we have
seen, at Monterey, and again, as at that
place, was placed in command of- the
conquered city.
He remained at Vera Cruz, organi
zing his military government of the
city and castle, till the army took its
departure toward the capital, when he
followed with his division, coming up
in time to take part in the first great

S06

WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH.

action at the pass of Cerro Gordo. He
led his brigade in the arduous service
on the left of the Mexican line, sup
porting General Twiggs in turning the
enemy's position, and when the heights
were conquered and the foe discom
fited and flying, he pursued them with
his division with characteristic en
ergy, entering Jalapa in advance of
the army on the day after the battle;
the 19th of April, and leading on his
men to the occupation of the town and
castle of Perote on the tAventy-second.
Still in advance, on the 15th of May,
General Worth entered Puebla. There
the army rested, the Home Government
credulously intent on peace negotiations
and slowly forwarding the means of
continuing the war. At length, rein
forcements having arrived, and the
troops having been kept in an efficient
state of drill under the eye of such
experienced masters of tactics as the
commander-in-chief, General Worth and
his associates, the army began its march
on the 7th of August for the city of
Mexico. The disposition of the troops, it Avill
be remembered, in this last great move
ment of the army, was at first on the
near approaches to the city of Mexico
by the ' national road, the advance post
being as far advanced as Ayotla, lead
ing to the eastern entrance of the city.
It was General Scott's grand strategic
plan, however, not to encounter the
formidable defences on this side, . but
to turn them if possible by a rounda
bout movement, through the rugged,
but, as it proved, not insurmountable
region, which was less defended, to the
westward. In this retrograde move

ment round the Lake of Chalco, the
troops stationed in the rear came tc
lead the advance, and as General
Worth's first division was in such a
position, it fell to him to open the Avay
by the new road cut by the army as it
proceeded to the south and west of the
lake. On the 17th of August, after a
march of some difficulty, he occupied
San Augustin, which was taken as the
base of the new operations. His divi
sion thus constituted the right wing of
the army, the left being pushed toward
the enemy's defences at Contreras. In
front of him was the fortified position
of San Antonio. The heights of Con
treras were gallantly stormed by Gene
ral Smith on the morning of the twen
tieth, and simultaneously with this
brilliant success, General Worth had
advanced from his position before San
Augustin, driven the enemy out of
San Antonio, and pushed on to the
intrenchments at Cherubusco, where
he opened the engagement. The por
tion of the victory which fell to his
division was at the bridge or ttte-de-
pont, which was taken by his second
brigade of infantry at the point of the
bayonet. The capture of this position'
determined the day. It became a
means of assault upon the remaining
defences; the enemy, including the
large reserve of Santa Anna, Avas
overpowered, and Mexico practically
opened to the invaders. General
Worth, ardent as ever in pursuit, fol
lowed the flying enemy to the very
gates of the city.
It was his fortune to be employed in
the most adventurous operations of
this Avar to its very close. To him,

WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH.

307

when hostilities, after another brief
interval for ineffectual peace negotia
tions, had been resumed, was com
mitted the attack on the works of
Molino del Rey, dominated by the
fortress of Chapultepec, one of the
most perilous and obstinate struggles
of the war. In the subsequent storm
ing of the castle, his force acted as a
reserve, following in pursuit to the
city when the work was taken. It
was his design to enter the city and
take possession of its National Palace.
His path led over a causeway beset by
fires of musketry from the buildings
along the road, a battery in front and
another in its rear, at the gate of the
city. To meet these perils he bor
rowed a lesson from the enemy, turn
ing their own works upon them. He
planted two mountain howitzers on
buildings higher than the rest on
jeither side, thus sweeping the neigh
boring houses and the road. Entering
the first houses, the men worked their
way with pickaxes and crowbars from
house to house, burrowing through
walls and ascending the roofs, till, as
General Scott remarks in his dispatch,
" the assailants were soon in an
equality of position fatal to the
enemy." By evening the two bat
teries were carried, and the San Cosmo
gate only remained betAveen General
Worth and the great plaza in the
heart of the city. That night of the
memorable 13th of September, the
civil authorities, the military com
mander haying left the place, brought

overtures of surrender to General
Worth. The next day the American
occupation of the city was perfected.
The war being completed, General
Worth was ordered to the department
of Texas. His death occurred while
he was stationed on that service at
San Antonio, May 7, 1849. His re
mains were brought to New York,
under direction of" the corporation of
the city, and temporarily interred in
the cemetery at Greenwood, whence
they were removed on Evacuation day,
November 25th, 1857, with public
honors, to the tomb prepared below
the imposing monument to his memory
which the city of New York had
caused to be erected on one of the
most conspicuous sites in the city, on
Madison square, on a gore of land be
tween Broadway and the Fifth Avenue.
The ceremonies were conducted with
unusual pomp. A large military pro
cession conducted the remains to the
tomb, the seventy-first regiment of
state militia being detailed as a guard of
honor; the religious exercises were con
ducted by the Rev. Dr. Vinton, once a sol
dier under the gallant general at whose
funeral rites he was now assisting ; de
dication Masonic ceremonies were per
formed, and an oration was delivered
by the Hon. Fernando Wood, the mayor
of the city. The monument is a strik
ing shaft of granite, inscribed with a
long roll of battles, from a solid base,
decorated with a bas-relief representing
the gallant hero mounted on a spiriteu
steed, leading his men to victory

EDWIN VOSE SUMNER.

This eminent military officer, whose
veteran services in successive campaigns,
among the most arduous of the war of
the Rebellion, especially entitle his me
mory to grateful recollection among his
countrymen, was born in Boston, Mass
achusetts, in 1796. He was educated
at his. native city and at the neighbor
ing academy at Milton. Unlike most
of the officers of the army, he was not
a student at West Point. He entered
the service March 3d, 1819, with the
appointment from the commander-in-
chief, General BroAvn, as second-lieuten
ant of the second infantry. ' He served
in this regiment in the Black Hawk
War, and in various duties, with credit
and efficiency, till, in? the year 1833, he
was transferred to the second dragoons
with the rank of captain. This brought
him into active service, on the western
frontier, among the Indian tribes — a
duty which was varied, in 1838, by his
appointment to the command of the
cavalry school of practice at Carlisle
Barracks, in Pennsylvania — an employ
ment for which his skill and energy as
a disciplinarian peculiarly fitted him.
In 1846, after twenty-seven years of
military service, he attained the rank
of major in his regiment of dragoons.
The breaking out of the Mexican
War provided h'.m a new field of duty,

with ah adequate opportunity for the
display of his abilities. He was Avith
the army of General Scott from its land
ing to its arrival at the capital, and
was distinguished at eveiy point where
he had an opportunity for action. In
a successful charge upon a body of
lancers at the bridge of Medelin, neai
Vera Cruz, in his command of the
mounted rifles in the assault at Cerro
Gordo, where he was wounded, and for
his gallantry in which" affair he was
brevetted lieutenant-colonel ; and' espe
cially in his services at El Molino del
Rey, where, constantly under fire, he
maintained his , position, and held in
check a body of five thousand Mexican
lancers, thus contributing materially to
the success of the American army. For
this new proof of his merits he was
brevetted Colonel. In July, 1848, he
was commissioned lieutenant-colonel of
the first dragoons. In 1851, and for
the two following years, he was in com
mand of the military department of
New Mexico, and for a part of the
time acted as civil governor. In 1854
he visitgd Europe on official business,
to report on certain improvements in
the cavalry service, and on his return
was, in 1855, promoted to the colonelcy
of the first cavalry regiment, on its or
ganization in that year. This brought

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EDWIN VOSE SUMNER.

309

him again into service on the frontier.
Among other duties which he dis
charged at tnis time was the success
ful conduct of an expedition, in 1857,
against a hostile band of Cheyenne
warriors in Kansas Territory. The fol
lowing year he was appointed to the
command of the Western Department,
and rendered efficient service in Kansas
by his mingled energy and moderation
in the maintenance of order in the
midst of the political and social diffi
culties of the territory.
The outbreak of the Rebellion found
him with the rank of colonel, which
was soon, hoAvever, exchanged for a
position more worthy of his long and
patriotic service. On the defection
of General Twiggs, and the removal
of the name of that officer from the roll
of the army in disgrace, Colonel Sum
ner was appointed to the vacant briga-
diership. He was now sent to the De
partment of the Pacific, in California,
whence, he was, in the spring of 1862,
called to active service in the Army of
the Potomac, then rapidly completing
its organization under General McClel-
lan. In the campaign on the Peninsula
he was actively employed, froin the
siege of Yorktown to the final retreat
to the. James River. When an attack
was made by the enemy in force upon
the Union Army, then within a few
miles of Richmond, at Seven Pines,
General Sumner, jvho Avas stationed on
the left bank of the Chickahominy, by
his prompt passage of that river Avith
his corps, turned the fortunes of the
day in the repulse of the Confederates
at Fair Oaks. He was equally distin

guished by his services in the Seven
Days' Battles which succeeded, and in
which he was slightly wounded. Hav
ing received the rank of major-general
of volunteers, and brevet major-general
in the regular army, we find him in
command of the second corps, in Mc-
Clellan's brief campaign in Maryland
in September, 1862, when, at the hard-
fought battle of Antietam, he was again
wounded. Continuing with the Army
of the Potomac on its transfer to the com
mand of General Burnside, he was with
that officer, in command of the second
and ninth corps, forming the right
grand division at the battle of Frede
ricksburg. His division was the first
to cross the Rappahannock. Its at
tacks upon the enemy's position were
made with the greatest gallantry, and
in the disastrous returns of the day it
reported the heaviest losses.
When General Hooker succeeded
General Burnside in the command of
the Army of the Potomac, General
Sumner was relieved at his OAvn re
quest. He was next appointed to the
command of the Department of Mis
souri, but the very day the order was
published he was suddenly taken from
the world. He died on the 21st
March, 1863, after a brief illness, at
Syracuse, New York, where he had
been for a short time sojourning. He
left the reputation of a high-minded,
energetic officer. He was distinguished
as a disciplinarian, while his integ
rity and patriotism, through forty-four
years of public service, entitle him to a
high place among the defenders of his
countiy.

h— 39

MARTIN VAN RUREN

Marttn- Van Bueen, the eighth Pre
sident of the United States, was born
at Kinderhook, Columbia County, New
York, December 5th, 1782. His name
imports, his Dutch descent, his family
being among the early settlers who
came from Holland to the New Nether
lands. Abraham Van Buren, the father
of Martin, is spoken of as a farmer in
moderate circumstances, " an upright,
amiable,' and intelligent man, of strong
common sense, and distinguished for his
pacific disposition." He had little op
portunity to bestow upon his son a
costly classical education ; but the boy
had the benefit of such instruction as
the village school and academy afforded,
and its course included " some knoAV-
ledge of Latin." His quickness and in
telligence marked him out for the pro
fession of the law, the study of which
he commenced at the early age of four
teen, in the office of Mr. Francis Sylves
ter, a highly respectable practitioner at
Kinderhook. This apparently prema
ture entrance in the training of the pro
fession is accounted for by a former
regulation of the bar, which required a
seven years' course of instruction, except
in the case of those who had received a
collegiate degree, when an allowance
vvas made for the usual four years of
the undergraduate course.

810

The young Van Buren was early set
to try cases in the Justices' Courts,
and as it is always in America but a
single step from the lawyer's office
to the political arena, he found his
way when he was but eighteen to a
nominating convention of the Republi
can party, of a candidate for the State
legislature. These and' similar employ
ments marked the young man while he
was yet a student, for future activity
and employment in public affairs. This
tendency was increased by his engage
ment in the last year of his preparatory
course in the office of Mr. William P.
Van Ness, a distinguished leader of the
Republican party, in the city of New
York, and friend of Aaron Burr. The
latter is said to have cultivated the. soci
ety of the young student at law from
Columbia County, and impressed upon
him "much of his political sagacity in
the organization and government of
party. In 1803, in his twenty-first year,
Mr. Van Buren was admitted to the bar
of the Supreme Court of the State, and
returned to Kinderhook to begin prac
tice at the law. Hit half-brother, his
mother's son by a first marriage, Mr.
James I. Van Alen, afterward a mem
ber of Congress, was there established
as a lawyer, and the two formed at
once a business connection. This part-

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MARTIN YAN BUREN.

Sll

ner, who was someAvhat of a politician,
was attached to the Federal party,
which Avas the ruling influence in the
county, and many considerations were
urged upon young Van Buren to adopt
the prevalent creed. He had, hoAvever,
chosen his path. "Firmly fixed," says
his biographer, Mr. Holland, " by reflec
tion and observation in the political
faith of his father, who Avas a Whig in the
Revolution, an anti-Federalist -in 1788,
and an early supporter of Jefferson, he
shrunk not from the severe tests which
were applied to the strength and integ
rity of- his convictions. Without pa
tronage, comparatively poor, a plebeian
by birth, and not furnished with the
advantages of a -superior education, he
refused to worship either at the shrine
of wealth or power, but followed the
dictates of his native judgment and be
nevolent feelings, and hesitated not, in
behalf of the cause Avhich he thus
adopted, to encounter the utmost vio
lence of his political enemies. That
violence soon burst upon his head with
concentrated fury. His character was
traduced, his person ridiculed, his prin
ciples branded as infamous, his integ
rity questioned, and his abilities sneered
at." -This is one side of the picture —
the opposition of the Federalists ; it has
another, the partisan friendship. of the
Republicans. The latter gave the young
lawyer and politician their support ;
he throve- in his profession ; was mar
ried happily in 1806, to Miss Hannah
Hoes, a distant relative on the mother's
side; and in 1808 had his first party
reward from the Republican state ad
ministration of Governor Tompkins,
which he had assisted into office. He

received the appointment of surrogate
of Columbia County, which induced
him to remove to the county seat at
Hudson, where he devoted himself assi
duously to the bar
In politics, as we have seen, Mr. Van
Buren was an active participant from
the start as an ardent supporter of the
Jeffersonian politics of the day. In the
State divisions he attached himself to
the fortunes of Governor Tompkins,
and Avas prominent in sustaining his
anti-bank policy. It was on the latter
issue, in opposition to Edward P. Liv
ingston, a bank-democrat supported by
the Federalists, that Mr. Van Buren was
chosen a State senator from the coun
ties comprising the Middle District. It
was a closely contested election, the
successful candidate having a majority
of only about two hundred in an aggre
gate vote of twenty thousand.
It Avas the season of a new Presi
dential election, the first term of Mr.
Madison being about to expire. As it
was the custom at that time to nomi
nate the State electors by a caucus of
the political parties in the legislature,
Mr. Van Buren was, of course, called
upon to participate in their decision.
The Republican members had already,
in their spring session, nominated De
Witt Clinton for that high office, a
nomination to which Mr. Van Buren
now gave his support. This brought
him in a quasi union with the Federal
ists, who gave their support to Mr. Clin
ton, and has led his biographers to
take particular pains to exhibit his ad
herence to the war policy of the admin
istration at Washington, toward which.
at the outset at least, Mr. Clinton had

312

MARTIN YAN BUREN.

been opposed. But whatever doubts
may have been thrown over his views
by this accidental party relation, seem
ing to compromise his thorough-going
republicanism, his adherence to war
measures was made explicit enough in
the Address which he prepared as chair
man of the committee nominating Go
vernor Tompkins for reelection in 1813,
and by his subsequent advocacy in the
legislature of the most stringent war
measures, particularly in an act to en
courage privateering, and another which
was known as the " classification law,"
of the nature of a conscription, author
izing the governor to place at the dis
posal of the President twelve thousand
men of the militia — a measure which,
though adopted, peace intervening, was
not required to be put in practice. The
acts just alluded to were violently op
posed by the Federalists, and submit
ted to a severe scrutiny after their pas
sage, in the Council of Revision, a body
which then sat as an integral part of the
legislature in confirming its laws. Chan
cellor Kent there delivered an opinion
against them. It was published, and
replied to by Samuel Young, then
Speaker of the Assembly, in several
newspaper articles signed " Juris Con
sult/us^ which were answered by the
chancellor under the signature " '¦ Amicus
Curiae? Upon this Mr. Van Buren met
the latter, directing his attention espe
cially to the assault upon the morality
of the privateering law, in a series of ar
ticles signed "Amicus Juris Consul-
tus." After peace was concluded, in the
words of his eulogist, Colonel Benton,
" to complete his course in support of

the war, and to crown his meritorious
labors to bring it to a happy conclu
sion, it became Mr. Van Buren's fortune
to draw up the vote of thanks of the
greatest State of the Union, to the great
est general which the war had produced
— ' the thanks of the New York legisla
ture to Major-General Jackson, his gal
lant officers and troops, for their Avon-
derful and heroic victory, in defence of
the grand emporium of the West.' "
The ability displayed by Mr. Van
Buren in the Senate indicated him as
a worthy incumbent of the ¦ office of
attorney-general of the State, an ap
pointment which he received in 1815.
He Avas also in this year created a Re
gent of the University, and in the fol
lowing was reelected for another term
of four years to the Senate. He then
took up his residence at Albany, Avhere
he continued his practice at the bar,
which had steadily increased, and
formed a partnership with his pupil,
the late Benjamin F. Butler, to whom,
as the political relations of Mr. Van
Buren became more engrossing, the bu
siness of the office was gradually relin
quished. It is not necessary here to attempt to
follow Mr. Van Buren through the in
tricate windings of New York political
history. It is a story of cross purposes,
which can be fully understood only by
a minute study of the history of the
times, if, indeed, we are as yet supplied
with the full materials for its compre
hension. It may be sufficient to say
that much in those days, by a politician
bent upon advancement, had to be ac
complished by management and. in
trigue. The ship was to be assisted in -

MARTIN YAN BUREN.

313

its course by side winds and under cur
rents. Thus we find. Mr. Van Buren
with his party at one time, by some pro
cess of fusion of Republicans and Fed
eralists, supporting De Witt Clinton;
at another, leading in his overthrow. It
became a question of party existence.
What is called the Albany Regency, a
body of practised politicians who com
bined their resources in office and
through the press in establishing and
cementing democratic authority, was
called into being. Clinton had the
prestige of a. great name in the State,
and the influence of commanding ta
lents, sustained by the most indomita
ble usefulness and industry ; he was the
great supporter of the Canal policy,
which was at length triumphantly car
ried through, but which had, mean
while, to bear the brunt of a ruthless
opposition ; in his personal bearing he
was charged with haughtiness, which
was, probably, nothing more than the
dignity and reserve of a superior na
ture, exclusively engrossed in honor
able ends, requiring the devotion of the
whole man. At any rate, a party strug
gle ensued between the friends of the
governor and of Mr. Van Buren, which
was conducted with great acrimony
One of its results was the removal of
the latter from his office of attorney-
general, by that political machine of the
old constitution, the Council of Ap
pointment, in 1819, at a moment when
he had become obnoxious to the Clin-
tonians by his efforts to oppose the re
flection of their chieftain. The decapi
tation caused some stir at the time,
which is commemorated in one of the
poetical effusions of the Croakers, with

a prophetic hint of the victim's higher
destiny.
'Tis vain to win a great man's name,
Without some proof of having been one,
And killing 's a sure path to fame,
Vide Jack Ketch and Mr. Clinton !
Our Council well this path have trod,
Honor's immortal wreath securing,
They've dipped their hatchets in the blood,
The patriot blood of Mat. Van Buren.
He bears, as every hero ought,
The mandate of the powers that rule,
He 's higher game in view, 'tis thought,
All in good time ; (the man 's no fool),
With him, some dozens prostrate fall,
No friend to mourn, nor foe to flout them,
They die unsung, unwept by all,
For no one cares a sou& about them.
It was about this time that the demo
crats, including Mr. Van Buren, engaged
in one of those party compromise ma
noeuvres to Avhich we have alluded, in
the election of Mr. Rufus King, an old
federalist, to the Senate. In support
of this measure, Mr. Van Buren wrote
and published, in conjunction with the
late Governor Marcy, a pamphlet enti
tled " Considerations in favor of the
appointment of Rufus King to the Se
nate of the United States." In the
great question of the day, in which Mr.
King bore so prominent a part, the
admission of Missouri into the Union,
Mr. Van Buren concurred Avith the
Senate in its instructions to the State
representatives at Washington, to insist
upon the prohibition of slavery. His
service in this body ended with the ex
piration of his second tenn, in 1820,
when he was not a candidate for reelec-
tion. In February of the following
year he was chosen by the legislature
Senator of the United States. In the
same year he was also elected a mem

314

MARTIN VAN BUREN.

ber of the convention to revise the con
stitution of the State, from Otsego
County, his party not being strong
enough to return him from his OAvn dis
trict. When this important body met
he took an active part in its delibera
tions, advocating generally a medium
course of reform. On one of the pro
minent subjects under discussion, the
extension of the right of suffrage, he
was in favor of a relaxation of the old
system, but stopped short of universal
suffrage. That was a measure of an
after day. He was opposed to the con
tinuance of the Council of Revision, and
in favor of the substitute for its check
upon hasty legislation, of the veto
power of the governor. He favored the
direct choice of officers of government
by the people, with some reservations,
however, which, adopted at the time,
have been subsequently removed. His
course was thus politic, and, in a mea
sure, conservative.
The convention concluded its sit
tings in time for Mr. Van Buren to
take his seat, at the opening of the win
ter session of the Senate at Washing
ton, by the side of his colleague Rufus
King. His reputation being now well
established, he was at once charged
with important duties as a member of
the committees of finance and the judi
ciary. One of the topics which early
engaged his attention was the abolition
of imprisonment for debt in the process
of the. United States Courts, unless in
certain cases of fraud — an amelioration
of the statutes of the olden time, which
he had already advocated in the State
jurisprudence at Albany. He also pro
posed amendments to the judiciary sys

tem, and was a prominent speaker in
the discussion of a bill establishing a
uniform system of bankruptcy.
On the accession of Mr. Adams in
1825, Mr. Van Buren^ who had already
attached, himself to the fortunes of
Jackson, was enrolled in the number
of the President's opponents. Among
other measures of the Administration,
the proposed Panama mission drew
forth his determined opposition.
In 1827 he was reelected to the
Senate by a decisive vote of the New
York State Legislature, . but he had
little more than entered on the new
term, when he was chosen, on the death
of De Witt Clinton, who expired sud
denly Avhile in office, Governor of NeAV
York. He consequently resigned his
seat in the Senate and began his new
course of duties in January, 1829.
Mr. Van Buren had not been long at
Albany, in his seat as governor, Avhen,
on the entrance of Jackson upon the
Presidency in 1829, he was called to
the "high office, directly, according to
the old precedents, in the line of suc
cession, of Secretary of State. He held
this for two years, when political hos
tilities having grown rife in the cabinet,
a dissolution seemed inevitable, and,
" convinced that the success of the ad
ministration, and his own prospects for
the future, demanded his retirement
from a position so unpleasant, he led
the way by a voluntary resignation of
the office which he held." 1
Mr. Van Buren retired during the
recess of Congress in April, 1831, and
Avas immediately appointed by the
1 Jenkins' Van Buren. Governors of New York, p. 444.

MARTIN VAN BUREN.

315

President Minister Plenipotentiary to
Great Britain. He accepted the posi
tion, the duties of which were not alto
gether disconnected from those of his
late office, so far as they related to the
settlement of open questions with Eng
land, which he had already had in hand.
He reached London in September, and
was received Avith every attention by
the government. Before, however, he
was well seated, his appointment, on
being submitted to the Senate, Avas re
jected by that body on the ostensible
ground of certain instructions, in refer
ence to the trade with the West Indies,
which he had forwarded, when Secre
tary of State, to the previous minister,
Mr. . McLane. The political constitu
tion of the Senate, which was now ar
raying its forces, may be presumed to
haA^e had more to do with the rejection,
which was decided against the appoint
ment by the casting vote of the Vice-
President, Mr. Calhoun.
That act, it was often said, made Mr.
Van Buren President. He was the
victim of an opposition vote, and was
ruthlessly thrown out from an honor
able office which he was well qualified
to discharge. This, at least, was the
view of the "Democratic party, and the
friends of the President, who continued
to give him his support. Consequently
when General Jackson was nominated
for re election,, it was with Martin Van
Buren on the ticket; for Vice-President.
Both were chosen by a decided major
ity, the vote being the same, with the
exception of that of Pennsylvania,
which, in consequence of Mr. Van Bu-
ren'a anti-protectionist views, was with
held from him.

As the presiding Officer of the Sen
ate, during the stormy period of Jack
son's second term, the new Vice-Presi
dent, .by his parliamentary experience
unwearied attention, and that polished
courtesy which always characterized
his bearing, won golden opinions from
all parties. He was the devoted sup
porter of the measures of the Presi
dent in this active period, which wit
nessed the overthrow of the United
States Bank, the decided stand taken
with regard to nullification in South
Carolina, and the indemnity negotia
tion with Louis Philippe. The reign
of Jacksqnism, as it was sometimes
called, became fully established, and
Mr. Van "Buren succeeded to the re
tiring chieftain as his rightful political
heir. He was nominated to the Presi
dency at Baltimore, in May, 1835, and
in the ensuing election of the folloAving
year was chosen by a majority of forty-
six votes over all other candidates.
His inauguration, on the 4th of
March, 1837, Avas duly celebrated ac
cording to custom, by the delivery of
an address, and administration of the
oath at the portico of the CapitoL The
day was a very fine one, as the new
President was driven to the spot, seated
alongside of the retiring incumbent, in
a phaeton made of the wood of the
frigate Constitution, which had been
presented to General Jackson, by the
democracy of New York. The address
was chiefly a.eulogy on the success- of
the Government in its triumph over all
previous obstacles. The agitation .of
the slavery question was pointedly al
luded to and deprecated in earnest
ternxs. The speaker renewed his

316

MARTIN VAN BUREN.

pledge as "the inflexible and uncom
promising opponent of every attempt
on the part of Congress to abolish
slavery in the District of Columbia,
against the Avishes of the slaveholding
States ; and also his determination,
equally decided, to resist the slightest
interference vrith it in the States where
it exists."
In the selection of his Cabinet, Mr.
Van Buren retained those who held
office under the late administration, in
cluding John Forsyth, of Georgia, in
the State Department; Levi Woodbury,
of New Hampshire^ in _the Treasury ;
Amos Kendall in the Post Office, and
Benjamin F. Butler as Attorney-Gene
ral. Mr. Poinsett, of South Carolina,
was appointed in the War Department
to succeed General Cass, who proceeded
as Minister to France. The bureau of
administration thus organized, the gOAr-
ernment Avith an established, recog
nized policy, appeared to have an easy
course before it. There was, however,
a cloud rising which soon burst upon
the country. The difficulty arose from
the banks out of the plethora of
the public treasury. A large surplus
had accumulated in the State banks,
which were the substitutes of the
former national institution, which was
now to be divided among the States.
Credit had been stimulated, pajier
money had been expanded, and the
result was now the contraction, memo
rable in our commercial annals, of the
year 1837. The banks suspended spe
cie payments, millions of value were
depreciated, and the whole system of
trade and industry seemed in utter
wreck and ruin. An extra session of

Congress was called in September, to
take into consideration the state of
affairs in relation to the public credit.
A message from the President proposed
the remedy which, known under the
name of the Sub-Treasury, has passed
into an established feature of the gov
ernment unquestioned in party con
flicts. The Independent Treasury Bill,
which thus separated the financial af
fairs of the State from all banks what
soever, making the care of the gold and
silver paid for duties, a simple matter
of safe keeping, under the charge of
certain officers, met at the outset with
considerable opposition. It passed the
Senate in this extra session but was de
feated in the House of Representatives.
The same fate attended it in the next
regular session. It did not become a
law till the last year of Mr. Van
Buren's Presidential term, in 1840. It
was undoubtedly the most important
event of his administration.
The foreign policy of the country
was conducted with ability during this
period. Two questions of some im
portance arose in these connections, one
in relation to Texas, the other regard
ing the management of the frontier
difficulties with Great Britain. In
respect to the former, which came up on
the proposition for. the annexation of
Texas to the Union, the President Avas
opposed to the measure. He thought
the independence of that State had not
been fully recognized by the United
States, and that to enter upon annex
ation would be, as the event proved, to
encounter hostilities with Mexico, with
Avhich countiy he desired to maintain
p°ace. In the Maine Bo undary Question

MARTIN VAN BUREN.

317

and the Niagara frontier disturbances
he pursued a firm and equable policy,
protecting the rignts of the country
and checking the lawless spirit which
had been aroused within our own bor
ders. In the election of 1840 Mr. Van
Buren was again the candidate of his
partyj in a canvass in which he suffered
an overwhelming defeat. The country,
depressed by the financial crisis from
which it had not yet recovered, Avas
bent upon political change. General
Harrison, a popular hero of the West
was nominated by the Whigs and borne
into office by a triumphant vote. He
received two hundred and /thirty-four
electoral votes against the sixty of Pre
sident Van Buren. The administration
of the latter being thus ended, he re
tired from Washington on the accession
of the new President, to his old home
at Kinderhook, where he had purchased
an estate which had belonged to the late
Judge Van Ness, to which he gave the
name-Lindenwold. In 1844 his friends
again brought him forward as a candi
date for the Presidency, and an earnest
effort was made for his nomination in the
national convention of his party at Bal
timore. It might have been obtained
for him but for a letter which he wrote
in favor of deferring the annexation of
Texas till the consent of Mexico should
be obtained. Something more decided
was required by the convention on this
point, and the nomination was given to
Mr Polk, who was less scrupulous in
regard to the measure. Mr. Van Buren,
true to the party organization, which
he had done so much to aid in previous
days, gave an influential support to the
n.— 40

democratic candidate, and on his elec
tion, was tendered the mission to Eng
land, which he declined. Four years
now elapsed, and 1848 brought round
again the recurring struggle for the
Presidency. A division had arisen in
.the ranks of the democracy in the State
of New York, involving the question
of the introduction of slavery into the
new territory acquired from Mexico;
Two delegations were sent from rival
factions to the nominating convention
of the party at Baltimore. In the poli
tical nomenclature of the day one bore
the name of Hunkers, the other of Barn
burners. The latter, which represented
the interests of Mr. Van Buren, was in
favor of freedom in the territories. Re
solutions were passed in the conven
tion admitting both delegations, upon
which the Barnburners retired. The
faction of the latter then held a con
vention of their own at Utica, at which
Mr. Van Buren was nominated as an
independent democratic candidate of
the Free Soil party, as it began to be
called. General Cass was the regular
nominee at Baltimore, and General Tay
lor of the Whigs. The result of the
election was a Free Soil popular vote for
Van Buren, chiefly drawn from New
York, which gave him over 120,000;
Massachusetts, 38,058; Ohio, over
35,000; Illinois, nearly 16,000; Penn
sylvania, about 11,000 — an aggregate
of 291,378. General Cass received
1,233,795 votes ; General Taylor's votes
exceeded this by 138,447. Mr. Van
Buren did not receive the electoral vote
of a. single State.
Mr. Van Buren, " a passive instru
ment in the hands of his old and de-

318

MARTIN VAN BUREN.

voted friends," appears to have been
little concerned at the result. It was
not his humor or his character. He
had seen enough of party not to be
greatly affected by its decisions, and he
had, moreover, reached an age of honor
able, well-earned repose, which his
habits of study and reflection, a certain
philosophic temper, and his happy
family relations disposed him to enjoy.
The retirement of Mr. Van Buren's
latter days was varied by a visit to
Europe, undertaken . for his health in
1853. There he remained for mors
than a year, visiting A^arious countries
and enjoying such attention as befitted
the elevated career in which he had
moved. On his return his time was
chiefly passed at his estate of Linden-
wold, among the scenes of his child
hood, in Columbia County, Varied by
an occasional visit to New York. An
asthmatic affection was gradually grow
ing upon him, which increased in inten.
sity, and finally brought him to his end.
His death occurred on the 24th of July,
1862, in the midst of the great political
and social revolution, which in the
storm of civil war was shaking the
land to its foundations. In the public
honors which were paid to his memory
the association was not forgotten. Pre
sident Lincoln, in a national tribute of
respect, announced his death to the
countiy. "This event," was the lan
guage of his Proclamation, "will occa
sion mourning in the nation for the loss
of a citizen and a public servant whose
memory will be gratefully cherished.
Although it has occurred at a time
when his country is afflicted with divi
sion and civil war, the grief of his patri

otic friends will measurably be assuaged
by the consciousness that, while suffer
ing with disease, and seeing his end
approaching, his prayers were for the
restoration of the authority of the
Government of which he had been the
head, and for peace and good-will
among his fellow-citizens. As a mark
of respect for his memory, it is ordered
that the Executive Mansion and the
several Executive Departments, except
ing those> of the War and Navy, be im
mediately placed in mourning, and all
business be suspended during to-mor
row. It is further ordered that the
War and Navy Departments cause suit
able military and naval honors to be
paid on this occasion to the memory of
the illustrious dead." The courts of
New York paid their eulogies to the
man and his active influential life.
The. funeral services were performed
at the Dutch Church, in the village of
Kinderhook, in the presence of a large
gathering of friends and neighbors,
when a discourse befitting the occa
sion was delivered by a friend of the
deceased, the Rev. Dr. J. Romeyn Berry,
in which a stirring incentive to patriot
ism, rendered doubly impressive by the
national crisis, was a prominent topic.
Mr. Van Buren had been long, a
widower, his wife having died in' 1818,
twelve years after their marriage, leav
ing him a family of four sons, Abraham,
John, Martin, and Smith Thompson.
Mr. John Van Buren is Avell known as
an eminent legal practitioner in New
York, and more widely of late by his
active participation in the political
movements of the day.
The more prominent characteristics

MARTIN VAN BUREN.

319

of Mr. Van Buren have been delicately
touched by a i-jpn of one of his most
devoted friends, Mr. William Allen But
ler, in an interesting obituary sketch
of the "Lawyer, Statesman and" Man."
"In his personal traits," says he, "Mr.
Van Buren was marked by a rare indi- !
viduality. He was a gentleman, and
he cultivated the society of gentlemen.
tie never had any associates who were
vulgar or vicious. He affected the
companionship of men of letters,
though I think his conclusion was
that they are apt to make poor poli
ticians and not the best of friends.
Where he acquired that peculiar neat
ness and polish of manners which he
wore so lightly, and which served
every turn of domestic, social, and
public intercourse, I do not know. It
could hardly be called natural, al
though it seemed so natural in him.
It was not put on, for it never was put
off. As you saw him once you saw
him always; — always punctilious, al
ways polite, always cheerful, always
self-possessed. It seemed to any one
who studied this phase Of his character
as if, in some early moment of destiny,
his whole nature had been bathed in a
cool,, clear and unruffled depth, from
which it drew this life-long serenity
and self control It was another of

the charges against him that he was
no Democrat. He dressed too well, he
lived too well, the company he kept
was too good, his tastes were too re
fined, his tone was too elegant. So far
as democracy is supposed to have an
elective affinity for 'dirt, this was all
true ; he was no Democrat in taste or
feeling, and he never pretended to
be. . . . As to the elements of the
widest popularity, they were not in
him. He never inspired enthusiasm,
as Jackson did, or Henry Clay. The
masses accepted him as a leader, but
they never worshipped him as a
hero. . . . Mr. Van Buren has
left memoirs, partly finished. If his
reminiscences can be given to the
world as he was in the habit of giving
them to his friends, in all the fresh
ness of familiar intercourse, they will be
most attractive. There was a charm
about his conversation when it turned
on the incidents of his personal experi
ence which could hardly be transferred
to the printed page, so much of its
interest depended on manner and ex
pression. Mr. Van Buren had no wit.
but he had humor, and a keen sense
for the humorous, and he could repro
duce with rare fidelity whatever in the
actions or the character of men he had
thought worth remembering."

SALMON PORTLAND CHASE.

This eminent statesman was born in
Cornish, New Hampshire, January 13,
1808. He received some early school
instruction at Keene, in the same state,
where his father had removed; and,
after the death of that parent, the boy,
at the age of twelve, went to Worth-
ington, Ohio, where he was assisted in
the completion of his education by his
uncle, . Philander Chase, the eminent
Episcopal Bishop of the State. He
entered the Cincinnati College, of Avhich
Bishop Chase was President, and after
pursuing its studies in the Sophomore
Class, returned to his home at his
mother's house in New Hampshire,
where he was admitted to the Junior
Class at Dartmouth, from which Col
lege he graduated in 1826. We next
find him at the national capital, in
charge of a classical school, supported
by some of the eminent public men of
the day, whose sons were placed under
his tuition. Among these were Henry
Clay and William Wirt. With the
latter, then in the height of his profes
sional fame, Mr. Chase, in his hours of
leisure, studied law, and relinquishing
his school, was in 1829 admitted. to
practice in the District of Columbia.
In the following year he returned to
Cincinnati, and became earnestly en
gaged in his profession. A proof of

his zeal and industry in those early
years of patient waiting and devotion,
of which the laAV is usually exacting, is
to be found in a valuable annotated
edition Avhich he prepared of the
Statutes of Ohio. His practice now
increased, and in a few years he began
to be prominently known to the people
of the United States by his advocacy
before the Supreme Court of what may
be called the principles of freedom in
the National Constitution, in legal
cases groAving out of the claims of
slavery upon colored persons who had
taken refuge in Ohio. This course
naturally made him a leader in the new
political organizations, which were re
quired to secure the maintenance of
these principles. Having been attached
to the Democratic party, he now tested
party distinctions by their greater or
less subserviency to the slave power, of
which he was a resolute opponent. In
dependent, action was needed, and in
this Mr. Chase was a pioneer of tho
Republican cause. At the head of the
liberty party in Ohio, he devoted him
self unreservedly to the inculcation of
the creed that slavery was in its nature
a local, and not a national institution,
and that the powers of the Govern
ment, under the Constitution, were to
be exerted on the side of freedom.

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Jolmson.Fry&'Co.BibliaherB Mew^rk

wrtt*-J,A*nS 'fiy .r.,fvmn.J9^ id- »,. Mec^M.* r/%..-^ei' .fistrL-taxin ;/,V St.- ...afri.^-r 7.,rrri.-t<v- -71'

SALMON PORTLA1MD CHASE.

321

From 1841, by his pen and in conven
tions, he battled for these principles,
till he had the satisfaction, in 1848, of
witnessing their adoption by the free-
soil party of. that day. The following
year he was elected by the democratic
and free-soil members of the Ohio Leg
islature to the United States Senate,
where, in opposition to the compromise
measures of Mr. Clay — the repeal of
the Missouri Act in the Kansas and
Nebraska bill, and in other proceedings,
he maintained the principles of free
dom, of which he was now acknoAV-
ledged among the foremost and most
able advocates. He was also diligent
in his attention to National and West
ern interests; in the furtherance of the
projected Pacific Railway, and the free
homestead bill. In 1855 he was elected
by the free-soil vote Governor of Ohio.
On his entrance upon the office, he
brought his accustomed energy to his
new duties, advocating all liberal mea
sures of improvement, and particularly
distinguished himself by his efficient
recommendations in regard to the
financial policy of the State. His ser
vices in these respects were so marked,
and his principles held in such esteem,
that he was triumphantly elected to a
second term.
This brought him to the opening of

the new era, when the principles of na
tional policy, which he had so long
supported, became dominant in the
election of Mr. Lincoln to the Presi
dency. His appointment to a seat, in
the new Cabinet at Washington was a
tribute to his ability and persistent
advocacy of the doctrines of the suc
cessful Republican party ; and in con
sideration of his integrity, and the
financial skill which he had displayed
in the Governor's chair in Ohio, he was
wisely placed at the head of the Treas
ury Department. In the records of the
great struggle with the Rebellion, the
history of the gigantic financial meas
ures proposed and carried into effect
by him, which became a necessity of
the times, and which, whatever their
ultimate result, wTith equal simplicity
and success met the successive enor
mous demands of the day — will giATe to
Secretary Chase, certainly no inferior
place in the annals of this extraordi
nary period. In June, 1864, Mr. Chase
resigned the Secretaryship of the Treas
ury, and in the following December, hav
ing received from President Lincoln the
appointment of Chief Justice of the
Supreme Court of the United States
as the successor of Roger B. Taney, im
mediately entered upon the duties of
the office.

JOHN TYLER.

The family of John Tyler was of an
old English stock, established in Vir
ginia from the early days of the settle
ment. He is said, in fact, by one of his
biographers, to be descended from that
redoubtable Walter or Watt Tyler, the
man of Kent who offered such brave
resistance to the tax-gatherers of the
second Richard, and who had for his
associate the famous John Ball, a reve
rend itinerant, to whom is attributed
the wholesome democratic inquiry
When Adam delved and Eve span
Who was then the gentleman ?
Be all this, however, as it may, the
grandfather of the President was a re
spectable landholder in the colony of
Virginia, in the vicinity of Williams-
burgh, enjoying, the office of marshal in
the ante-revolutionary period. .His son,
John Tyler, born in time to take part
in the new era, was a member of the
House of Delegates from Charles City
County when Patrick Henry and his as
sociates sounded the first notes of revolt.
As the cause advanced he devoted his
fortunes and energies to the patriotic
work, and was rewarded by the suf
frages of the people with the highest
honors of the State. He rose to bo
speaker of the House of Delegates,
Governor of the State, Judge of the
823 /

United States District Court, and in hia
last days, in the period of the second
war Avith England, was created by Pre
sident Madisoh, Judge of the Federal
Court of Admiralty. He died at the
age of sixty-five. He was the intimate
friend and correspondent of Patrick
Henry, for whom he entertained an
ardent admiration. No one was. more
esteemed or better thought of in the
State. This revolutionary patriot left three
sons, the first of whom appears to have
been called Watt, after the old English
man of the people, the stout rebel of
the fourteenth century. The second,
destined to occupy the chair of the Pre
sident of the United States, named after
his father and grandfather, John, was
born in Charies City County, March
29, 1790. The youth .had the educa,
tion and training of the son of a Vir
ginia gentleman. At the age. of twelve
he entered the college of William and
Mary, at Williamsburg, and enjoyed
the particular friendship of the venera
ble Bishop Madison, who had then pre
sided over the institution for a quarter
of a century. He graduated with cre
dit, his commencement address on
"Female Education" gaining more than
the usual plaudits of such occasions,
and next occupied himself with the

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JOHN TYLER.

323

study of the law, partly with his father
the judge, partly with the eminent
lawyer Edmund Randolph, who was at
one time Governor of the State, and
Avhc was conspicuous in the affairs of
the nation as a member of the old
Congress, the Convention of the Con
stitution, and the cabinet of President
Washington. At nineteen, we are told,
he was permitted to practice at the bar,
no question being made as to his age ;
and his success was decided. On ar
riving at twenty-one he was unani
mously elected a member of the House
of Delegates. It was at the season
when the war with Great Britain, long
imminent was on the eve of actual out
break. The, topic was an attractive
one for many a nascent orator through
out the country, and Avas not neglected
by the. youthful Tyler. By education
and tradition he belonged to the demo
cratic party, and his voice was raised in
favor of a vigorous prosecution of hos
tilities by .the government. When the
Avar had been entered upon and the
British forces in Chesapeake Bay threat
ened an attack on Norfolk and Rich
mond, the young legislator turned his
attention to the more active prepara
tion, for the field.' He occupied him
self in raising a company of militia in
his county, whose services happily were
uot called for. This slight flavor of
Avarfare in comparison with the impor
tant military deeds of many of the oc
cupants of the Presidential chair, gave
him the familiar title, during his can
vass for the Presidency, of Captain
Tyler ; a title by which he is yet occa
sionally named.
We must not, hoAvever, anticipate

this portion of his career. He con
tinued for five years a member of the
House of Delegates in Virginia, in the
last of which he was raised to a seat in
the executive council. He had hardly,
however, entered upon this new honor
when another awaited him, at the close
of 1816, in his election to the House of
Representatives, to fill a vacancy caused
by the death of the incumbent. His
rival in the canvass was a gentleman,
Mr. Andrew Stevenson, afterward dis
tinguished at Washington, whom he
defeated by a majority of some thirty
votes. At the next regular election his
triumph over the same candidate was
more decided. In his course in the
House he pursued generally the career,
so plainly rnarke^ out under the rigid
party discipline in that State, of a state-
rights or strict constructional Virginia
politician. He was opposed to internal
improvements, and to that great evil in
the eyes of all thoroughly-trained demo
crats, a national bank. He opposed Mr.
Clay in his attempt to gain the recog
nition of the independence of the South
American Republics, but was with him
in the censure of General Jackson's as
sumptions of responsibility in the Semi
nole wars. A third time elected to Con
gress, he voted in 1820 for the unre
stricted admission of Missouri into
the Union. Before his new term of
office had expired he was compelled to
seek retirement in consequence of ill
health. He returned to his farm in
Charles City County, and continued the
practice of his profession.
According to a custom which does
honor to American politics, he thought
it no indignity after occupying a seat '

324

JOHN TYLER

in the national councils, to return again
to the humbler duties, with which he
had commenced life, of service in the le
gislature of his state. He was for three
years, from 1823 in the House of Dele
gates, applying his best efforts to the
welfare of Virginia. It is an example
which might be more generally imitated.
Our state legislatures embrace a variety
of interests unknown to the national
representatives at Washington, and the
maturity of years and experience might
be brought to them with effect. Mr.
Tyler in this capacity applied his efforts
to the improvement of Virginia, and
many of the finest roads in the state, it
is said, are due to his exertions.
In 1825 he Avas chosen Governor of
the State, and in the following year
was taken from that office to succeed
John Randolph in the Senate of the
United States. It Avas the third year
of the administration of John Quincy
Adams when he took his seat and he
at once engaged on the side of the op
position, that is in support of the ine
vitable nomination of General Jackson
as the succeeding President. In the
late election he had been in favor of
the Southern candidate, Mr. Crawford,
and on the decision being carried into
the House, had cheerfully acquiesced in
Mr. Clay's casting vote for Mr. Adams.
The latter soon lost ground and every
means Avas taken for his defeat.
When General Jackson was elected,
Mr. Tyler was one of his supporters in
the Senate, at least on such questions
as his rejection of internal improve
ments and veto of the Bank. He op
posed a tariff for protection. On one
¦ important measure, however, he was in

opposition to the President. He took
part with the South Carolinians in their
nullification doctrines, and spoke against
the Force Bill introduced into the Se
nate to aid General Jackson in their
overthrow'. When Mr. Clay introduced
his compromise bill, modifying the Ob
noxious tariff, Mr. Tyler gave it his
support. On the close of his term in 1833, he
was again elected to the Senate. It
was the beginning of that second term
of Jackson's administration memorable
in the annals of the country for the
accomplishment of his warfare against
that political giant, the Bank of the
United States. To these measures Mr.
Tyler in conjunction with Mr. Calhoun
and other members of his party stood
opposed. He voted in favor of Mr.
Clay's resolutions of censure, standing
on his old Virginia ground as a strict
constructionist, hostile to all undue as
sumptions of power on the part of the
Executive. He did this at the time no
less in accordance with his own feelings
than with the views of the Virginia le
gislature which had elected him. Time
passed on, and the President, gaining
ground throughout the country and in
the Senate, the pertinacious resolution
of Mr. Benton to expunge the obnoxious
resolution was pressed to a final issue.
Mr. Tyler now received instructions to
vote for it. What should he do ? The
right of instruction and the duty of the ¦
Representative to obey it had always
been a maxim of his political creed,
which it so happened that he had on
more than one occasion in his career,
brought conspicuously before the pub
lic. Could he now disavow his che-

JOHN TYLER.

325

rished convictions? One choice was
left him — to resign, and he cheerfully
met the issue, resigning his seat in the
Senate rather than take part in the
mutilation of the sacred record. In his
letter of resignation to the Legislature
of Virginia he wrote : " I dare not touch
the Journal of the Senate. The Con
stitution forbids it. In the midst of all
the agitations of party, I have hereto
fore 'stood by that sacred instrument.
It is the only post of honor and of safety.
A seat in the Senate is sufficiently ele
vated to fill the measure of any man's
ambition ; and as an evidence of the
.sincerity of my convictions that your
resolutions cannot be executed, without
violating my oath, I surrender into your
hands three unexpired years of my term.
I shall carry with me into retirement
the principles which I brought with me
into public life, and by the surrender
of the high station to which I was
called by the voice of the people of
Virginia, I shall set an example to my
children which shall teach them to- re
gard as nothing, place and office, when
to be either obtained or held at the sac
rifice of honor." In the excited state
of the political world at the time, when
the attention of the whole community
was fastened upon the scene in the Se
nate, such an act could not escape notice.
It met Avith the general plaudits of the
country. Mr. Tyler now became a resident a,t
Williamsburg, the early residence of
his father, and passed his time in com
parative retirement. In the presiden
tial canvass of 1836 he was placed on
the ticket for Vice President in several
of tha states, receiving fortv-seven votes
ti.— 41

in all. His support was derived from
the Southern State Rights Party in op
position to Jackson and Van Buren.
Two years later, in 1838, we find him
once more seated in the Virginia House
of Delegates "acting Avith the Whig
Party, under which name the different
sections of the opposition to Mr. Van
Buren's administration gradually be
came amalgamated in Virginia." This
connexion introduced him to the Whig
nominating convention of 1839, which
sat at Harrisburg where he made his
appearance as a friend of Henry Clay.
Upon the vote being taken in favor
of General Harrison, Mr. Tyler was
adopted on the ticket as Vice President.
In the election which ensued he was
chosen by the same overwhelming vote
Avith the President.
The fourth of March, 1841, saw the
inauguration of President Harrison at
Washington, and barely one month
after, Vice President Tyler was himself
summoned from his home at Williams
burg to enter upon the duties of that
"high office. It was the first time death
had seized an occupant of the presiden
tial chair. President Harrison died on
the fourth of April, at Washington.
Congress was not in session. The offi
cers of the cabinet, of whom Daniel
Webster was at the head, took charge
of the government for the moment, im
mediately sending a special messenger
with an announcement to Vice Presi
dent Tyler of the melancholy fact. On
the morning of the second day, the sixth
of April, Mr. Tyl vr arrived in Washing
ton, and the same day, before Judge
Cranch, of the District of Columbia,
took the oath, " faithfully to execute the

326

JOHN TYLER.

office of President of the United States,
and to the best of his ability, preserve,
protect and defend the Constitution of
the United States." He did not think
it necessary to make this oath after that
which he had taken on entering upon
his duties as Vice President but as a
measure of prudence and "for greater
caution as doubts may arise." On re
ceiving the members of the cabinet he
expressed his wish that they should
remain in office. The funeral of the
late president took place on the seventh
and was attended by President Tyler.
There was no public ceremonial of
an inauguration on his taking the oath
before Justice Cranch and consequently
no public address, but two days after
the funeral, on the ninth of April, an
" inaugural address " was issued by the
President which was read with much
interest. It was expected to. solve the
question which began to be much agi
tated of the degree of conformity of
the views of the new incumbent to the
Whig principles of his predecessor. He
had, as we have seen, been led on vari
ous occasions to cooperate with the
Whig party, but many of his anteced
ents were directly hostile to their views.
His name had been placed on the
ticket in the Southern interest and as a
friend of Mr. Clay, without any distinct
pledges on his part to serve the doc
trines of the party. In fact the proba
bility of his being placed in the autho
ritative position of President had not
been very seriously if at all entertained,
by the convention which, somewhat
hastily, put him in nomination. The
address, however-, was upon the whole,
acceptable to the Whigs ; it certainly

gave little satisfaction to the opposite
party which saw in it a lurking con
demnation of the "assumptions" of
President Jackson, and an inclination,
at least, toward a national bank.1
A few days after this address Presi
dent Tyler issued "a recommendation"
to the people of the United States, of a
day of fasting and prayer, in recognition
of the solemn bereavement in the death
of the late president.
An extra session of Congress had
been already summoned by President
Harrison, to meet the last day of May.
It sat from that date till September.
As its main object was to take into con-'
sideration the financial condition of the
country, and, if possible, provide -ways
and means for its relief, the question of
the creation of a new United States
Bank became a paramount subject of
discussion. The President was appa
rently in favor of such an institution.
In his message he reviewed the previous
course of legislation in this matter, and
admitted the last substitute, the sub-
treasury, to be condemned by the peo*
pie. "To you, then," he concluded,
addressing Congress, " who have come
more directly from the body of our com
mon constituents, I submit the entire
question, as best qualified to give a full
exposition of their wishes and opinions.
I shall be ready to concur with you in
the adoption of such system as you may
propose, reserving to myself the ulti
mate power of rejecting any measure
which may, in my view of it, conflict
with the Constitution, or otherwise
jeopard the prosperity of the country —
1 Benton's Thirty Years' View, II., 212.

JOHN TYLER.

327

a power which I could not part with if
I woidd, but which I will not believe
any act of yours will call into requisi
tion," This sentence foreshadowed the
result. Two bills were prepared ac
cording to plans more or less adapted
to the views of the President, and both,
when they had been passed after much
discussion in Congress, were vetoed by
him. For the plans and devices, the
learned political doubts and constitu
tional arguments on either side we
must refer, the reader to -the debates in
Congress and the messages of President
Tyler himself. On the side of the
Whigs throughout the countiy there
sprung up a great disaffection in conse
quence, toward the President whom
they had created. On the other hand,
the Democratic party thanked their un
expected assistant with moderated en
thusiasm. It was thought to be the
last effort in Congress to establish a
National Bank. Other measures of re
lief, however, were passed at this extra
session including the bankrupt act and
a national loan.
The defection of President Tyler, as
it was considered, from the Whig party
caused the resignation of most of the
members of his cabinet. Daniel Web
ster, however, remained in the office of
Secretary of State to complete the im
portant negotiation with England in
reference to the disputed North Eastern
Boundary. This treaty, one of the
most important acts of President Tylers
administration, was negotiated between
Lord Ashburton who was sent a special
minister from England for the purpose,
and Mr. Webster as Secretary of State
in 1842. Mr. Webster held his office

in the cabinet till May of the following
year. His successor was Mr. Abel P.
Upshur of Virginia, who perished while
in office, in February, 1844, by the fatal
explosion on board the Princeton, on the
Potomac. Mr. Calhoun was afterwards
appointed Secretary of State, and in
1844 negotiated a treaty of annexation
between the United States and the Re
public of Texas, which was rejected by
the Senate. In the following year the
annexation, which had been recom
mended by the President, and became
a test question with politicians through
the countiy, passed both houses. This
was among the last acts of President
Tyler's administration. His successor,
Mr. Polk, had already been chosen, and
a few months after, on the fourth of
March, 1845, entered upon the duties
of his office. Mr. Tyler then retired to
his seat in Virginia, carrying with him
to grace his home a lady of New York,
a daughter of the late Mr. David
Gardner, whom he had married during
his Presidency, in 1844. He had been
previously married in 1813 to a lady
of Virginia, Miss Letitia Christian, who
died at Washington, leaving three sons
and three daughters. One of the sons,
Mr. Robert Tyler, , attracted some at
tention in the literary world as tha
author of a poem entitled Ahasuerus.
After his retirement from the Presi
dency Mr. Tyler passed his time in
honorable leisure, appearing on one or
two occasions to deliver public, ad
dresses on anniversary and other meet
ings of historical or other general in
terest. His first production of this
kind was an address which should have
been mentioned in the order of our nar-

328

JOHN TYLER.

rative, delivered in July, f826, at the
capitol square in Richmond, in memory
of his own and father's friend, the illus
trious Jefferson.
The agitation arising out of the Pre
sidential election of 1860 brought Mr.
Tyler again before the public. When
the success of the Republican party in
the election of Mr. Lincoln was followed
by threats and active measures of dis
union on the part of the South, he was
sent by the legislature of Virginia to
Washington, a member of the notable
Peace Convention of delegates from the
northern and border States, a measure
originally proposed in Virginia with
the view of warding off impending hos
tilities between the two portions of the
country by some adjustment or com
promise of the questions in dispute.
The convention met at Washington on
the 4th of February, 1861, and Mr.
Tyler was chosen its President. In an
opening address he declared the object
of the assembly "to snatch from ruin
a great and glorious confederation, to
preserve the government, and to renew
and invigorate the Constitution." In
the course of his remarks he observed
that "our ancestors probably com
mitted a blunder in not having fixed

upon every fifth decade for a call of
a general convention to amend and
reform the Constitution." The con
vention, in which twenty-one States
were represented, debated for three
weeks various propositions, and finally
determined upon the recommendation
of a plan, extending the line of the
Missouri Compromise to the Pacific, and
proposing additional securities for the
"peculiar institution" by limitation of
the legislation of Congress, and other
measures. The whole was* submitted
to the consideration of the national
Congress then in session, and the con
vention adjourned.
Congress was not disposed to accept
this and the like palliatives of the na
tional difficulties which were proposed
in that body. The crisis rapidly ap
proached. The acts of secession of the
Southern States were followed by the
attack on Sumter. Virginia, no longer
neutral, cast in her lot with the Con
federacy, and Mr. Tyler followed the
fortunes of his State, and became an
active Secessionist. He was chosen a
senator in the Confederate Congress,
and held this position at the time of
his death, which occurred suddenly at
Richmond, January 18, 1862.

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JOHN CHARLES FREMONT.

John Chables Fremont was born at
Savannah, Ga., January 21st, 1813.
His father, born in France, had settled
in Norfolk, Virginia, where he sup
ported himself by teaching his native
language. He married a lady of good
family of the State, whose maiden name
was Ann Beverly Whiting, of Glou
cester county. Removing from Vir
ginia to South Carolina, his son, John
Charles, was born while the family was
visiting the adjacent State. The father
dying in 1818, his widow lived for a
time in Virginia, when she made her
peiananent home in Charleston, S. C.
There her son, a boy of quick intellect,
at the age of thirteen, attracted the
notice of a worthy lawyer of the city,
John W. Mitchell, who placed him un
der the instruction of a well-known
classical teacher, Dr. Robertson, with
whom, proving an apt scholar, he was
taught in a single year, sufficient Greek,
Latin, and mathematics, to enter the
junior class in Charleston College.
There he ranked high, but neglecting
the necessary attendance, was expelled
from the institution.
On leaving college he occupied him
self diligently in the business of tuition
in the city, giving private lessons in
mathematics, teaching classes in several
schools, and adding to these labors the

superintendance of an evening schooL
His mathematical acquirements pre
sently brought him employment as a
surveyor, and when in 1833, the sloop-
of-war Natchez was stationed in the
harbor, sent there to enforce the pro
clamation of President Jackson, by
friendly influence at Washington, he
was appointed teacher of mathematics
on board that vessel and was two years
absent with her on the Brazilian station.
On his return he was commissioned
professor of mathematics in the Navy,
in consideration of Avhich his Charles
ton college conferred upon him the de
grees of Bachelor and Master of Arts.
The land, however, not the sea, was to
be the field of his future labors. Re
ceiving a government appointment as
civil engineer, he resigned his post in
the Navy, and became actively engaged
in the survey of the mountain region of
the Carolinas and Tennessee. In this
capacity he passed the winter of 1837-
38, with Captain Williams, in a survey
of the Cherokee Country. In 1838 he
was commissioned second lieutenant of
the corps of topographical engineers.
Two years were now passed by him
with Mr. Nicollet, a French savan, em
ployed by the government in explo
rations of the country north of the Mis
souri, to the British line. In the spring

S29

330

JOHN CHARLES FREMONT.

of 1841, by order of the War Depart
ment, he was engaged in a survey of
the Des Moines River, on the western
frontier. Returning to Washington
while engaged in preparing the report
of these expeditions, he was married in
October, to Jessie, daughter of Senator
Benton. The next year saw him launched on
that career of original explorations
which has identified his name with the
passes and defiles of the Rocky Moun
tains, and the great interests of the
Pacific coast. Impressed by his pre
vious travels Avith the opportunities of
discovery in the remote west, and urged
by his love of adventure to the under
taking, in pursuance of plans of his
own, and assisted by the sagacity and
influence of his father-in-law, he was
placed by the War Department at the
head of an expedition ordered to ex
plore and report upon the country be
tween the frontiers of Missouri and the
South Pass in the Rocky Mountains,
and on the line of the Kansas and Great
Platte Rivers. Within six months of
the time of leaving Washington, be
tween May and October, he had or
ganized the expedition — a band of
Creole and Canadian voyageurs, accom
panied by Mr. Charles Preuss, an artist
from Germany, and the celebrated
hunter Kit Carson, as guide — and tra
versed the region west of Missouri, along
the Platte, to the South Pass, which he
fully explored, extending his journey to
the Wind River Mountains, on the
north, the highest of which 13,750 feet
above the sea, he ascended, planting
the United States flag on its summit —
in commemoration of which event the

Peak now bears his name. The report
of this exploration to the Engineer De
partment, dated, Washington, March
1st, 1843, written in the form of a jour
nal, filled with observations of the ab
original inhabitants whom he met, the
geographical, natural history, and other
scientific details of the route, was uni
versally regarded as one of the most
interesting and valuable contributions
of the kind yet made in America, while
its value was greatly enhanced by its
bearing upon the rapidly developing
progress of the western settlements,
whose teeming population was even
then looking forward to an outlet to
the Pacific.
These satisfactory results led to a
second expedition under Lieutenant Fre
mont, to Oregon and North California,
in 1843-4. Carefully selecting his
party, which was again reinforced by the
invaluable Kit Carson, Lieutenant Fre
mont left the frontier of Missouri in
May, 1843, pursued his way by the
Kansas and* Platte rivers to the South
Pass, Avhich he reached in August, then
turned in a south-westerly course to
the Great Salt Lake, whence he pro
ceeded northerly to the upper tribu
taries of the Columbia, folloAving that
river to the Pacific, where he arrived in
November. On his return home he
took a new route through an entirely
unknown region to the south-east,
which led him through many wintry
perils to a desert region, separated by
a range of mountains from the Bay
of San Francisco. In danger of starva
tion, he crossed the Sierra Nevada, to
the Valley of the Sacramento. Thence
skirting the Western base of the moun-

JOHN CHARLES FREMONT.

331

tains, he crossed to the Great Basin,
and reached Kansas in July, 1844, by
way of the South Pass. Government
rewarded the Explorer with the brevet
rank of Captain in the army.
A third expedition carried Captain
Fremont into California at the transi
tion period in its fortunes, when, by
the fortune of war it was about passing
from Mexican rule to the possession of
the United States. Having spent the
summer and autumn of 1845 in explo
ration of the region of the Great Basin,
he entered in the winter the Valley of
the San Joaquin. The Mexican Gov
ernor at Monterey, General Castro, was
inclined to oppose his progress, but the
apparently imminent hostilities were
for the time obviated. In the spring
of 1846, however, when Fremont was
making his way towards Oregon, he
was recalled by an outbreak of the
American settlers on the Sacramento,
against the Mexican authorities, who
were showing themselves hostile, and
was placed at the head of the niove-
ment which speedily resulted ii the
independence of Northern California.
A naval squadron now arrived and
took possession, of Monterey. Fremont,
appointed by Commodore Stockton,
military commandant and civil gov
ernor of the countiy — at the head
of a body of mounted riflemen sup
pressed insurrections, and held the
region for the United States. General
Kearney now arrived and claimed com
mand as superior officer. A conflict
of authority arose in which Fremont
sided with Commodore Stockton. The
Government at Washington decided in
favor of Kearney, between whom and

Fremont difficulties arose, which ended
on their way home, in the arrest of the
latter. He was tried by a court martial
at Washington, found guilty of mutiny,
disobedience of orders, and conduct pre
judicial to military discipline, and sen
tenced to dismissal from the service.
President Polk refused to confirm the
verdict of mutiny and remitted the sen
tence ; but Fremont refusing to accept
a pardon, resigned his commission.
In October, 1848, on his own account^
Fremont engaged in another expedition
to the Rocky Mountains, by the
southern route of the Rio Grande, in
which, losing his way in the mountains,
west of Santa Fe, he suffered great
hardships with his party. Arriving
in California the following spring, he
made his permanent home in that
country, where he had purchased the
vast Mariposa Estate, of Avhich, how
ever, he did not gain full possession
without a protracted lawrsuit. In 1849,
he Avas appointed by President Taylor
commissioner to run the boundary-
line beween the United States and
Mexico, and the same year was elected
by the Legislature of the new State
of California United States Senator.
He took his seat immediately on
the admission of the State, in Sep
tember, 1850, and having drawn the
short term, served through the session.
In 1852, he visited Europe, was re-
ceived with distinguished attention,
and on his return to the United States,
at the end of a year, in view of the
proposed railway to the Pacific, engaged
in a fifth exploration to investigate more
fully the route of his last previous ex
pedition. In 1855, we find him a resi

332

JOHN CHARLES FREMONT.

dent of the city of New York, where
he presently became an object of atten
tion to the Republican party, as a
popular candidate for the Presidency.
Avowing his devotion to their free soil
policy, he Avas nominated by their con
vention in 1856, and in the ensuing
election, in which he was defeated by
Mr. Buchanan, received a popular vote
of 1,341,514, and the electoral vote of
the New England States, New York,
Ohio, Michigan, Iowa, and Wisconsin.
Fremont now returned to California,
where he employed himself with the
development of his large estate. The
outbreak of the Rebellion in the spring
of 1861, found him in Europe, where,
after taking part in May in a patriotic
meeting of his countrymen in Paris,
he hastened home, bringing with him
a large and valuable assortment of arms
for the Government. On the sixth of
July, having been appointed a major-
general in the regular army, he was
placed in command of a new military
district known as the Western Depart
ment, embracing the State of Illinois
and the States and Territories west of
the Mississippi and on this side of the
Rocky Mountains, including New Mex
ico. Hastening to St. Louis, he infused
extraordinary activity into the military
movements of the department, pro
claiming martial law in the city and
shortly after throughout the State, and
at the close of September, having
rapidly organized his forces, took the
field at the head of a large army to
meet the enemy at Springfield. There,
on the eve of an intended general en
gagement he was superseded by Gene

ral Hunter. Taking leave of his troops,
he returned to the East, and was not
again called into active service till the
following year, when in March, he was
appointed to the command of the new
Mountain Department, embracing the
country west of the Department of the
Potomac and east of the Department
of the Mississippi. It was understood
that a main object of this service was a
descent to the region of East Tennessee,
which was held as a powerful rebel
stronghold ; but from this or any
similar project, General Fremont was
diverted by the active movements of
the Confederate General Jackson, along
the line of the Blue Ridge. General Fre
mont hastened from his head-quarters
at Wheeling, to the assistance of Gene
ral Milroy at Franklin, whence he Avas
ordered across the mountains to the aid
of General Banks, who, after having
been driven out of the Shenandoah
Valley, was again pressing General
Jackson on his retreat. Coming up in
time to pursue the enemy, he kept on
his rear till a stand was made by Jack
son in the engagement on the eighth
of June, at Cross Keys. The battle,
claimed as a Union victory, resulted. in
severe losses on both sides, and the
escape of the enemy. General Pope
was next placed as commander-in-chief
of the Army of Virginia, which, re
ducing General Fremont to a subor
dinate command, he asked to be re-
lieved, a request which was granted
by the President. Since that time to
the present (June, 1863), General Fre
mont has not been employed in active
service.

hifixn.,:::: ,'ru/i, 'It: fin:,:: Ph, •/,¦¦'./ ,;ip??. Prrir, ii./t;
iuinir.im.Fiy s. Co. Publishers. NnwYnrk-

. 4, .:Wii ,:,h-„ „r ti,,.

FRANKLIN PIERCE.

FfiAttKLB* PiEncp!, the fourteenth Pre
sident of the. United States, was born
at Hillsborough, in the: State of New
Hampshire, November .23, 1804. His
father, Benjamin .Pierce, a native, of
Massachusetts, with many other spirited'
youths, entered; the ReAT'olutionary army
at the sumnion's of Lexington, served
through the war with credit, . and re
tiring with, the rank of captain, a year
or two after peace was declared, became
the purchaser of- a, plot 'of < fifty acres in
the present towu of Hillsborough, then
a rough clearing in the wilderness.,
There he built a log-house and settled
down to the clearing of the land, his
second wife, to Avhom he was united in
1789, becoming the mother of the sub
ject of this sketch who was the sixth
of her eight children. The captain of
the Revolution meanwhile attracted the
attention of. the people of the region,
was made brigade major on the Organi
zation of' the; inilitia of the county;
in 1789 was elected a member of the
House of Representatives at Concord,
continuing to serve in that capacity for
thirteen years; till he was chosen a
member of the Governor's Council; An
eminent member of the Democratic
party,, he was an ardent supporter of
the war of 1812, sending tw(* of his
sons to the army. He rose to be Gover-
' ii. -49.

nor of New Hampshire m 1827 am
was again elected to that office in 1829.
He subsequently lived in retirement,
leaving the world in 1-839, at the
venerable age: of eighty-one. The peo
ple of New Hampshire, have not yet
forgotten the shrewd sense and kindli
ness, the )unaffected democratic princi
ples, of the honest, cheerful old soldier
of the Revolution and, Governor of the
State; It is to his memory, doubt
less, supported by the popular traits of
character inherited froin him, that his
son has been indebted for much of his
advancement. Franklin had. good opportunities of
education*. He was early sent to the
neighboring academies at Hancock and
Francestown, enjoying at the latter the
advantages: of a residence with the
family of an old friend of his father,
Peter Woodbury, whose son, Judge
Woodbury, became , afterward so emi
nent in public affairs. Young Pierce,
who was of a warm-hearted, susceptible
nature, was much impressed by the
superior mind and character of the lady
of this household, the mother of Judge
Woodbury. . Indeed he appears in his
boyhood to have won the kindness of
those around him by his frank, inge
nuous disposition. He was admitted
to Bowdoin college in 1820. It is to

338

334

FRANKLIN PIERCE. .

the credit of young Pierce as a collegian
that, having fallen into some indiffe
rence during the first years of his
course, he more than regained his posi
tion in the upper classes, graduating
with credit in 1824. It is a fact worth
mentioning, though, as his biographer
remarks, by no means unusual in the
history of the rise of New England
statesmen, that in one of the winter va
cations Franklin Pierce took a turn at
school-keeping. His college instruction being com
pleted, he began the study of the laAV
as a profession in the office of Judge
Woodbury, of Portsmouth, the son of
his father's old friend, then Governor
of the State, and soon afterward greatly
distinguished at Washington as Speaker
and senator, and member of the cabinet
of Jackson. After a year with this
eminent jurist, Mr. Pierce completed his
studies in the lawT school at Northamp
ton and the office of the Hon. Edmund
Parker, at Amherst. He was admitted
to the bar in 1827, and opened an office
opposite to his father's house at Hills
borough. His success, though he had
the advantage of the family popularity,
was not very decided at the outset.
His biographer, indeed, speaks of his
first case as a decided failure. He had
not yet learned the full command of
his resources.' . It was his fortune to
make his position at the bar good
by steady effort. Politics, meanwhile,
offered him a ready resource, as his
father had just been elected Governor.
Democratic sentiments were gaining the
ascendency under the influence of Jack
son, and to this cause young Pierce de
moted himself. In 1829, and for three

successive years, he was elected to the
legislature of his State, as representa
tive of Hillsborough, filling in 1832 and
1833 the office of Speaker. In the last
year he was chosen a member of Con
gress, taking his seat in the House of Re
presentatives at Washington, in Decem
ber. He was again elected and served a
second term. He was of course a steady,
unflinching supporter of the administra
tion, for the democratic rulr> of those
days admitted no other — not a frequent,
or long, or eloquent speaker, but a zeal
ous, persistent committee man, giving
his vote for the measures of his chief,
seconding the views of the South, and,
a decided man generally in his party
relations. In 1837 he left the House of Repre
sentatives for the Senate of the United
States, where he was the youngest
member of that body. His term of ser
vice embraced the whole of Mr. Van
Buren's administration and a portion
Of that of his successor, during which
his services to his party Avere resolute
and unintermitted. They were not for
gotten when an opportunity subse
quently arose to confer upon him the
highest reward. He retired from .pub
lic life .at the end of the period for
which he Avas elected, having his resi
dence now at Concord, in his native
State. He had been for some time
married to a daughter of the Rev. Dr.
Appleton, once President of BoAvdoin;
his father was now dead; fud his do-
mestic affairs required his care at home.
Thither he retired to devote himself as
siduously to his profession. His suc
cess was*immediately assured, his prac
tice at the bar yielding him a very

FRANKJL1JN fierce.

335

handsome income. In proof of his con
tentment and the sincerity of his wishes
for retirement, he declined in 1845 an
appointment by the Governor to the
United States Senate to fill the place
Vacated by Judge Woodbury, and a
proffer by the Democracy of his State
of a nomination as Governor; refusing
also in the following year a seat in the
cabinet of President Polk as Attorney-
General. He held meanwhile the post,
at home, of District Attorney of New
Hampshire. His reluctance to engage in public
life at Washington partly proceeded
from his professional duties in his own
State and partly from the health of his
Avife, to which the climate of the seat
of government was unfavorable. In his
letter to President Polk, dated Septem
ber 6", 1846, declining the' position of
Attorney-General, he made use of this
expression : " When I resigned my seat
in the senate in 1842, 1 did it with the
fixed purpose never again to be volun
tarily separated from my family, for
any considerable length of time, except
at the call of my country in time of
war." The reservation, looking to the
date, was not without its significance.
General Taylor had in May fought the
battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la
Palma, and it was evident that more
serious struggles, which would call out
a new military force, Avere impending.
Congress was slow to admit the neces
sity in making provision for the addi
tional force, but when the time came
and the bill creating ten new regiments
was passed, Franklin Pierce was looked
to and created by the President a
brigadier-general, his commission being

dated March 3, 1847. He had pre
viously enrolled his name on the first
list of volunteers at Concord as a pri-
vate soldier. He considered his accep
tance of the duty a fulfillment of his
pledge on taking leave of the Senate.
The old military spirit of two wars in
which his father and brothers had taken
part again lived in the family.
The brigade of which he was placed
in command consisted of twenty-five
hundred men, composed of the ninth
regiment of New Engenders, the twelfth
from the south-western States, and the
fifteenth from the north and west.
They were to assemble at Vera Cruz,
and join the forces of General Scott on
his march to the capital. General Pierce
sailed from Newport on the 27th of
May, with a portion of the New Eng
land regiment; the voyage was calm
and consequently long; bringing the pas
sengers to the rendezvous at the most
unhealthy season of the year. As the
vomito then prevailed at Vera Cruz,
the prospect of landing new recruits
was anything but a happy one. It was
the work before the new general, how
ever, and he courageously faced it. The
portions of his Diary published by his
biographer, show the full extent of the
difficulties which he encountered, and
which were met by him with manly
resolution. Avoiding the city, he sta
tioned his men on an extensive sand
beach in the vicinity, where they would
at least have the benefit of a free circu
lation of air. It was the beginning of
July, and no means were at hand to
expedite the departure for the interior.
A large number of wild mules had been
collected, but, inferior as they were foi

336

FRANKLIN PIERCE.

purposes of transportation, they were so
ill provided with proper attendants that
most of them broke away in a stam
pede. "The Mexicans fully believe,"
is the language of the journal of June
28, "that most of my command must
die of vomito before I can be prepared
to march into the interior." A delay
of but a day or two was expected ; it
was now running into Weeks. Then
he records the services of Major Woods,
a West Point officer " of great intelli
gence, experience, and coolness, who
kindly consented to act as my adjutant-
general." There is a serious case of
vomito in the camp, Captain Duff, who
is sent to the hospital in the city. At
length,' after three weeks on the shore,
the advance is sent off, and a few days
after the general himself follows. It is
not an easy road to travel. The great
battles of the previous expeditions had
cleared the road of extensive fortifica
tions, but left it free to be assailed by
straggling parties of guerillas, of whom
General Pierce and his men are to have
a taste as they carry their train, of men
and munitions to the main army at
Puebla. He was twice attacked on the
route, on leaving San Juan, when both
sides of the road were beset by the
Mexicans, and again at the National
Bridge, where a formidable effort was
made to arrest his progress. The ene
my had erected a barricade at the
bridge, and manned a temporary breast-
Avork on a high commanding bluff
above. General Pierce, looking around
for means of annoyance to cover --his
advance, found a position for several
pieces of cannon, but the main advan
tage was gained by a portion of his

command in charging the defences at
the bridge and gaining the enemy's
works from the rear. In this engage
ment, which seems to have been well
managed in securing the speedy retreat
of the Mexicans, General Pierce was
under fire, and received an escopette
ball through the rim of his hat, without,
however, other damage, as he adds in
his journal, " than leaving my head foi
a short time Avithout protection from
the sun." The train thus relieved ad
vanced to the Plan del Rio, where the
bridge, a work of the old Spaniards,
was found to be destroyed. Its main
arch, a span of about sixty feet, was
blown up. Below yawned a gulf of a
hundred feet." The bank in the neigh
borhood appeared impassable for wa
gons. In this emergency General Pierce
called upon one of his New England
officers, Captain Bodfish, of the Ninth
Infantry, who " had been engaged for
many years in the lumber business, and
accustomed to the construction of roads
in the wild and mountainous districts
of Maine, and Avas, Avithal, a man not
lightly to be checked by slight ob
stacles in the accomplishment of an en
terprise." This enterprising officer had
by no means the resources of Maine at
his command, for there was no timber
in the vicinity ; but the road was con
structed, nevertheless, and the train
passed in safety over it. After this
there were no extraordinary, difficulties
to be overcome, and General Pierce, on
the seventh of August, reached the head
quarters of General Scott at Puebla,
with his brigade, which, after undergo
ing some changes on the way at Perote,
consisted of some twenty-four hundred

FRANKLIN PIERCE.

337

men. The guerillas who infested his
path had not succeeded in capturing a
single wagon.
With this reenforcement General
Scott immediately began his advance
to the valley of Mexico. In the first
action, that at the heights of Contreras,
where the enemy's works, having been
approached with difficulty, were suc
cessfully stormed with great gallantry,
General Pierce was in command at the
outset in the attack upon the front of
the intrenchments. It was a duty of
peculiar toil and hazard. The ground,
the famous pedregal, was a broken,
rocky surface, impracticable for cavalry
and harassing for infantry. General
Pierce was the only mounted officer in
the brigade, and, as he was pressing to
the head of his column, after addressing
the colonels and captains of his regi
ment as they passed by him, his horse
slipped among the rocks and fell, crush
ing his rider in the fall. This was the
first of a series of disasters which
weighed heavily upon General Pierce
through the remainder of the brief cam
paign, but which his energy and spirit
enabled him in a considerable measure
to overcome. He was at first stunned
by the fall with the horse, but recover
ing his consciousness, was hurried on in
the battle, having been assisted to a
seat in the saddle. When told that he
would not be able to keep his seat,
" Then," said he, " you must tie me on."
He lay that night writhing in pain
from his wounded knee, on an ammu
nition wagon, to be mounted again the
next morning, the decisive day at Con
treras, and Avas enabled to hold his
position and lead his brigade in pur

suit. In the course of this duty he was
summoned to the commander-in-chief,
who perceived at once his shattered
condition. "Pierce, my dear felloAV,"
said the veteran kindly, " you are badly
injured; you are not fit to be in the
saddle." "Yes, general, I am," replied
Pierce, "in a case dike this." "You
cannot touch your foot to the stirrup,"
said Scott. " One of them I can," an
swered Pierce. The general, says the
authentic narrative before us, looked
again at Pierce's almost disabled figure,
and seemed on the point of taking his
irrevocable resolution. " You are rash.
General Pierce," said he; "we shall lose
you, and we cannot spare you. It is
my duty to order you back to St. Au
gustin." "For God's sake, general,"
exclaimed Pierce, " don't say that !
This is the last great battle, and I must
lead my brigade !" The commander-in-
chief made no further remonstrance,
but gave the order for Pierce to ad
vance with his brigade. The sequel
may best be told in his biographer,
Mr. Hawthorne's, interesting narrative.
"The way lay through thick, standing
corn, and over marshy ground, inter
cepted with ditches, which were filled,
or partially so, with water. Over some
of the narrower of these Pierce leaped
his horse. When the brigade had ad
vanced about a mile, however, it found
itself impeded by a ditch ten or twelve
feet wide, and six or eight feet deep.
It being impossible to leap it, General
Pierce was lifted from his saddle, and
in some incomprehensible way, hurt as
he was, contrived to wade or scramble
across this obstacle, leaving his horse
on the hither side. The troops were

338

FRANKLIN PIERCE.

noAV under fire. In the excitement of
the battle he forgot his injury and hur
ried forward, leading the brigade a dis
tance of two or three hundred yards.
But the exhaustion of his frame, and
particularly the anguish of his knee —
made more intolerable by such free use
of it — was greater than any strength of
nerve, or any degree of mental energy
could struggle against. He fell, faint
and almost insensible, within full range
of the enemy's fire. It was proposed
to bear him off the field; but, as some
of his soldiers approached to lift him,
he became aware of their purpose, and
was partially revived by his determina
tion to resist it. " No," said he, with
all the strength he had left, "don't
carry me off ! let me lie here !" And
there he lay under the tremendous fire
of Cherubusco, until the enemy, in total
rout, was driven from the field." In
the negotiations which immediately en
sued, General Pierce was honored by
the commander-in-chief with the ap
pointment of one of the commissioners
to arrange the terms of the armistice.
Jaded and worn out as he was, having
been two nights without sleep and un
able to move without assistance, he at
tended to this duty before seeking repose.
In the subsequent action of the cam
paign, at the battle of Molino del Rey, he
rendered an important service to General
Worth at the close of that bloody fight,
in interposing to receive the fire of the
enemy, and, the victory having been
gained, occupied the field. He would
have been prominently engaged in the
sequel to this battle, the storming of
Chapultepec, but he had now become
so ill as to be compelled to seek relief

at the head-quarters of General Worth,
where he remained when this conclud
ing action of the war was fought. He
rose, however, from his sick couch to
report himself to General Quitman,
ready to take part in the final assault
upon the city; but this perilous duty
was happily spared him by the timely
capitulation. On his return to the United States
at the close of 1847, General Pierce
having resigned his commission at
Washington, was received at Concord,
in his native State, with the utmost en
thusiasm. Welcomed to the town hall
in a complimentary speech by General
Low, he replied in an address of great.
propriety, skillfully turning the occasion
to the praises of his comrades in the
war. He spoke of the New England
regiment in general, of its sacrifices and
deeds of honor, and particularly of the
brave men who had fallen on the field.
He also paid a well-deserved compli
ment to the officers furnished to the
war by the Military Academy at West
Point, a tribute which came with more
emphasis from his lips, as in former
days in Congress he had opposed the
usual annual appropriation for that in
stitution. In recognition of his services,
he was shortly after presented with a
sword by the legislature of New Hamp
shire. General Pierce now passed into re
tirement and was again engaged in the
practice of his profession. He took
part, however, in the political affairs of
his party, particularly in the canvass
of 1848 when General Cass was a can
didate for the Presidency. The Demo-
cratic party then suffered a defeat, but

FKANKLIN PIERCE.

339

rallied again for action in 1852, when
General Pierce was put in nomination
for that high office. Previously to this
election his position was strengthened
in New Hampshire by his, election as
President of the convention for the re
vision of the State constitution, and as
the time for the choice of a new Presi
dent of the Union approached he was put
forward by the Democracy of the State
as a suitable candidate. The nominating
convention of his party met at Balti
more in June, 1852; there was some
difficulty in deciding upon a candidate,
and several days had passed in the dis-
cussion,whenGeneralPierce was brought
forward by the Virginia delegation on
the thirty-sixth ballot. His strength
continued to increase as the contest was
carried on, till, on the forty-ninth bal
lot, he received two hundred and eighty-
two out of the tAvo hundred and ninety-
three votes cast. In the election which
followed, he was chosen over General
Scott, the candidate of the Whig party,
by a popular majority of two hundred
and three thousand, three hundred and
six, their joint votes being two millions,
nine hundred and eighty-nine thousand,
four hundred and eighty-four. He had
the electoral votes of all the States ex
cepting Vermont, Massachusetts, Ken
tucky and Tennessee.
The presidential administration of
General Pierce from 1853 to 1857,
when he was succeeded by James Bu
chanan, was an interval of comparative
repose, marked by no extraordinary
events of foreign or domestic policy,

with the exception of the revival of
the slavery agitation in the passage
of the Kansas and Nebraska Terri
torial act in 1854, setting aside the
geographical limit imposed by the
compromise of 1850. In the late Go
vernor Marcy, President Pierce had
the services of a Secretary of State
of eminent ability, who conducted the
foreign affairs of the government with
firmness and discretion. Among the
home incidents of the time may be
mentioned- the erection of a Crystal
Palace at New York, following the ex
ample of the previous great fair at Lon
don, for the exhibition of the industry
of all nations. This undertaking, which
was brilliantly carried out, was inaugu
rated by President Pierce in July,
1853, shortly after the commencement
of his administration. After the close
of his Presidential term, General Pierce
visited the island of Madeira and made
a prolonged tour in Europe. On his
return to America, he again took up his
residence in his old home at Concord,
New Hampshire.
At the breaking out of the war, in
1861, at a mass meeting held in Con
cord, he made a speech in .which he
declared himself for the Union, opposed
to a Southern Confederacy, and urged
a cordial and hearty support of the
Administration in the suppression of
the rebellion.
The remainder of his life was passed
in retirement from public affairs, at
Concord, where his death occurred on
the 8th of October, 1869,

ANDREW HULL FOOTE.

Andeew Hull ¦ Foote was born in
New Haven, Conn., September- 12, 1806.
His father, Samuel A. Foote, is known
in the political- history of the country,
as the- mover of the resolution in the.
United States Senate on the Public
Lands, which gave occasion to the cele
brated debate on the principles of nul
lification between Daniel Webster; and
Robert Y. Hayne,, of South Carolina.
He was also Governor of Connecticut.
The son entered the navy at the age of
sixteen, as acting midshipman, making
his first cruise in the schooner Grampus,
which was attached to the squadron of
Commodore Porter, sent out in 1823,
to cruise among the West India islands,
for the suppression of piracy in- those
waters. The service was a- peculiar
one, " requiring the foe to be followed
in shallow waters,, and employing many
an, adventurous boat party in close con
flict with an unscrupulous enemy. In
this warfare young Foote learnt his
first lesson of maritime skill and daring.
The next year he obtained his Avarrant
as midshipman, when he passed three
years with Commodore Hull on the
Pacific station. On his return to the
United States he served in the West
India squadron, as master of the sloop-
of-war Hornet, and the same year be
came passed midshipman. A second

three years' cruise in the Pacific suc
ceeded, when in 1830 he was com
missioned lieutenant. -In 1833, he was
flag-lieutenant of the Mediterranean
squadron, -on board' Commodore Patter
son's flag-ship, the Delaware. The
ship cruising in the Levant, Lieutenant
Foote was one of a party which, obtain
ing leave of absence, made the tour of
the Holy Land, visiting Jerusalem, the
Dead Sea, and other spots memorable
in the scripture narrative. In 1838 we
find him first-lieutenant of the sloop-of-
war John Adams, sailing round the
globe with Commodore Read. In this
extended voyaging he was engaged in
an attack on certain towns of the island
of Sumatra, whose natives had mur
dered the captain of an American mer
chantman. He was also engaged in the
more grateful duty. to a man of his dis
position of rendering • assistance to the
American missionaries of Honolulu,
who had suffered some persecution from
the French naval commander on the
station. From 1841, to 1843 he was
on duty at the Naval Asylum, at Phila
delphia, where he was zealously en
gaged in promoting the cause of tem
perance among its sailor inmates. In
his next cruise, in the year last men-'
tioned, as first-lieutenant with Cap
tain Breese, of the Cumberland, he still

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ANDREW HULL FOOTE.

341

further endeavored to carry out his
temperance principles on the high seas,
and succeeded in persuading tne creAV
to dispense with the spirit ration, estab
lishing at the same time a religious "ser
vice in which he officiated, preaching to
and pray ing, with the men. On his re
turn home in 1845, he was employed
for several yeara at the navy yard at
Charlestown, Mass., after which, in 1849,
he was assigned to the command of the
brig Perry, and ordered to the coast of
Africa to join the squadron stationed
there, in accordance Avith the treaty
with Great Britain to enforce the laws
of the two countries for the suppression
of the slave trade. -Of this cruise,
which occupied the next tAVo years,
and which was eminently successful in
the objects of the mission, Commander
Foote, in 1854, published an ample
narrative, with incidental discussions on
slavery, its history and morality, a par
ticular account- of Liberia, and a plea
for colonization and protection of the
African race, in a volume entitled
" Africa and the American Flag."
His next cruise, on the China station
in command of the sloop-of-Avar Ports
mouth, is memorable for his prompt
vindication of the American flag in
the attack upon the Barrier Forts
in the harbor of Canton. It was
on the eve of the war between the
English and Chinese, Avhen in view
of the unsettled state of affairs, it was
necessary to afford timely protection to
American interests. In the discharge
of this duty Commander Foote was
fired upon in his boat in the Can
ton waters, and for this outrage urged
Commodore Armstrong, in command
-43

of the American squadron, to an attack
upon the forts. The Portsmouth, as
sisted by the Levant, was ordered to
this duty. The two ships gallantly
approached the forts, four in number,
and after a vigorous bombardment, a
storming party was formed which landed
and gallantly captured the works. After
visiting Siam and Japan, and other places
of interest, Commander Foote returned
to the United States in 1858, when he
was assigned to the charge of the navy
yard at New York.
There he was stationed at the out
break of the Southern rebellion, which
brought him into active service in a
new sphere of duty. Promoted to a
captaincy in July, 1861, in September
he was ordered to the command of the
river flotilla, or fleet building on the
Ohio, to operate against the rebels, and
effect the re-opening of the navigation
of the Mississippi. With his customary
energy he entered upon this'neAV career,
hastening the work of preparation of
the flotilla, which he brought nobly
into action in the successful attack
upon Fort Henry, on the Tennessee, on
the, sixth of February, 1862. Taking
the lead in the flag-ship, Cincinnati, fol
lowed by the Essex and other gunboats
of the squadron, the fort on the river
bank was attacked at short range, and
after a severe and closely-contested action
of one hour and fifteen minutes, was
compelled to surrender to the navy alone,
the cooperating land forces not being in
time for the conflict. Returning to
Cairo to refit in haste for further opera
tions, the next Sunday found Captain
Foote in the pulpit of the Presbyterian
church of that place, preaching an ex.

u.-

342

ANDREW HULL FOOTE.

cellent sermon in the absence of the
pastor, and offering humble and hearty
thanks for his victory.
The capture of Fort Henry was
speedily followed on the fourteenth, by
the attack upon Fort Donelson, on the
Cumberland, by the gunboats' under
Captain Foote, in cooperation with the
investment by land, of General Grant.
In this action Captain Foote was
wounded in the ankle, a painful and
annoying injury which brought him to
the use of crutches, but which he did
not permit to disable him from active
duty. Hastening to the Mississippi,
he advanced to the siege and capture
of Island No. X, through the months of
March and April, directing with wonted
energy and perseverance the naval ope
rations of the flotilla, which materially
assisted the army in the reduction of
that stronghold. In the midst of the
bombardment Avith which the siege
commenced, Captain Foote received, on
the deck of his flag-ship the Benton,
the news of the death of his second
son, a promising youth of thirteen,
which occurred at the family residence,
at New Haven. The island having
fallen, and the success of the naval
movements on the Mississippi being as
sured, Captain Foote, still suffering
from his wound, was relieved from
duty and returned home to recruit his
shattered health. At the suggestion
of President Lincoln, a joint resolution
was passed by Congress, thanking Cap

tain Foote for his eminent services and
gallantly at Fort Henry, Fort Donelson,
and Island No. X. He also received
the commission of Rear Admiral, the
highest rank in the service under the
new act of July, regulating the grade
of line officers of the Navy.
On partially recovering his strength,
Rear Admiral Foote was employed as
Chief of the Bureau of Equipment and
Recruiting, and his health being ap
parently established, in June, 1863, was
appointed to the command of the South
Atlantic Blockading Squadron, charged
with the operations against Charleston
and other points of that department.
He was on his way to this honorable
post of duty when he was taken ill at
the city of New York, of a disease of
the kidneys, and after . a short, and
severe illness, died at the Astor House,
June 26th. His remains were taken
to New Haven, where, in the public
funeral services every honor was paid
his memory. The Secretary of the
Navy, the Hon. Gideon Welles, in a
general order from the Navy Depart
ment, expressed the feeling of the
nation of his worth. " Among the no
ble and honored dead," was its Ian
guage, "whose names have added lus
tre to our naval renown, and must ever
adorn our national annals, few will
stand more prominent than that of the
gallant and self-sacrificing Christian
sailor and gentleman whose loss wn
now deplore."

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JAMES BUCHANAN.

James Buchanan, the" fifteenth Pre
sident of the United States, was born
in Franklin County, Pennsylvania, at a
spot called Stony Batter, -April 22,
1791. His father, of the same name,
was an emigrant to the United States
from the county of Donegal, Ireland; the
very year which closed the war of the
Revolution with the declaration of
peace. He married, in his new home
in Pennsylvania, Miss Elizabeth Spear,
the daughter of a farmer of Adams
County, in the. State. James Buchanan,
the elder, became a thriving man, plac
ing his son on the first stage of his fu
ture advancement by providing him a
collegiate education* The youth was
entered at Dickinson College, Pennsyl
vania, and graduated from that institu
tion in 1809, at the age of seventeen,
with credit.. He then immediately be
gan the study of the- law,, with Mr.
James Hopkins, of Lancaster, and was
admitted to practice in 1812. He con
tinued for, nearly thirty, years . assidu
ously devoted to the profession, reaping
a fair share of its pecuniary rewards.
His -first entrance upon political . life
was at the age of tWenty-three, when
he became a member of the Pennsylva
nia Legislature. It was the last year
of the war with England, of which,
from, the outset, he had been an earnest
843

advocate, carrying his zeal ao far as to
march as a private, soldier in a company
organized at Lancaster; to proceed to
the defence of Baltimore, when Wash
ington had been invaded by the enemy
The company actually made their way
to Baltimore, where they were dis
charged, the occasion for their services
having passed by. He was an active
supporter of. war measures in the legis
lature of his State, counselling stringent
means of defence, and advocating a loan
to the United States to pay the militia
: of the State called into the public ser
vice. In 1820, Mr. Buchanan took his seat
in the House of Representatives, and;
continued a member by successive re-
elections for ten years. This period
embraced" many important public mea
sures, in which he took a prominent
part. He was opposed to a tariff fov
protection, and to a general bankrupt
law; when John, Quincy Adams was
elected, he opposed his favorite project
of the Panama mission, and gave his
zealous support to the advancement of
General Jackson. On that chieftain's
election to the Presidency; which Avas
promoted by his influence in Pennsyl
vania, he was placed at the head of the
Judiciary committee, and was one of
the five managers chosen by the House

344

JAMES BUCHANAN.

to conduct the prosecution of Judge
James H. Peck, of the District Court
of the United States for Missouri,
against whom articles of impeachment
were passed for an undue exercise of
authority, in silencing and imprisoning
a lawyer in his court, who had presumed
to criticise one of his decisions. Judge
Peck was defended befove the Senate
by William Wirt and Jonathan Meri-
deth. The case was closed by Mr.
Buchanan. The result was the pas
sage of a law calculated to prevent a
recurrence of the offence.
In 1831, Mr. Buchanan received the
appointment from President Jackson of
Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Ple
nipotentiary to St. Petersburg, and suc
ceeded in the object of his mission in
securing a valuable commercial treaty,
opening to our merchants important
privileges in the Russian waters. On
his return, in 1833, he was elected to
the United States Senate, where he
rendered important partisan services to
the administration of General Jackson,
then closely pressed in that body by a
combination of its greatest political
leaders, Clay, Calhoun, and Webster.
He was always opposed to the agitation
of the subject of slavery in Congress,
regarding the discussion of the topic at
the North as alike injurious to the pros
pects of the slave and the integrity of
the Union. These were his views Avhen
the right of petition brought the dis
cussion before Congress, and he re
mained steadily on the side of the South
in all matters of this nature, where the
institution was concerned. An ardent
supporter of President Jack'son, he, of
3ourse, gave his influence in favor of

the expunging resolutions of Senatoi
Benton, which crowned the long list of
Congressional triumphs of the retiring
President. To the administration of
his successor, Mr. Van Buren, Mr. Bu
chanan gave important aid in his advo
cacy of the establishment of an inde
pendent treasury, and when that mea
sure' Was temporarily set aside under
the presidency of General Harrison and
Tyler, he was urgent in his efforts to
defeat the banks, or fiscal institutions,
proposed in its place. On all the test
questions of the democratic party, Mr.
Buchanan preserved political consist
ency. With one, in particular, he espe
cially identified himself — the Annexa
tion of Texas. He was for immediate
action on its first introduction into the
Senate, and when it was afterwards
adopted, at the close of Tyler's admin
istration, he stood alone in the commit
tee on foreign relations in favor of the
measure. Mr. Polk succeeded to the Presidency
in 1845, when Mr. Buchanan was called
to his cabinet as Secretary of State. It
was an important era in the foreign
relations of the country, when the office
was no sinecure. The North-western
Boundary question was to be settled
with England, and on the South-west
ern frontier another difficulty of no
ordinary magnitude existed, in the
threatened conflict with Mexico. The
former was settled on a compromise
basis, adopting the parallel of lati
tude of 49° instead of the ultra de
mand, insisted upon by certain mem ¦
bers of the party, and advocated in an
elaborate state paper by Mr. Buchanan
himself, of 54° 40'. The Government,

JAMES BUCHANAN.

345

in fact, had become pledged to the lat
ter, but the difficulty was solved by re
ferring the matter to the Senate, where
the compromise line was accepted. The
Mexican question was of graver re
sponsibility. It was met by the admin
istration as a war measure, and by the
spirit and energy of the army of the
country, and the volunteers called to
the field, was successfully carried
through, while efforts were constantly
made to bring the contest to an end by
negotiations for peace. When the en
emy was thoroughly humbled, and his
capital gained possession of, the latter
finally prevailed. It is to the credit of
our government that the war was con-
'ducted in no sanguinary spirit of cru
elty, and that its terms of reconciliation,
though they proved in the end highly
advantageous to the victors, were, all
things considered, neither exacting nor
humiliating to the conquered.
At the close of Mr. Polk's Presidency,
Mr. Buchanan retired to his home in
Pennsylvania, in the neighborhood of
Lancaster, where he lived in compara
tive retirement, tilh Mr. Pierce coming
into office in 1853, he was appointed
Minister to England. He accepted the
post and was occupied, in the course of
its duties, in a negotiation of the Cen
tral American question, and also, inci
dentally, in a discussion respecting the
possession of the island of Cuba. The
latter, known as the Ostend Conference,
grew out of the design of the President
to purchase the island if possible, from
Spain, and for this purpose a consulta
tion was had in Europe between the
American Ministers to Spain, France,
and England, who might aid the under

taking by mutual counsel. The history
of this proceeding is thus given in the
recent notice of President Buchanan in
" Appleton's Cyclopedia." " Ostend. Avas
first selected for the place of meeting,
but the conferences were subsequently
adjourned to Aix la Chapelle. The
American Ministers kept written min
utes of their proceedings, and of the
conclusions arrived at, for the purpose
of future reference, and for the informa
tion of their government at home.
These minutes were afterwards styled
a 'protocol,' though they contained
nothing, but memoranda to be for
warded for consideration to the autho
rities in Washington. They were not
intended to be submitted to a foreign
power. They contained no proposition,
laid doAvn no rule of action, and in no
manner whatever interfered with our
regular diplomatic intercourse. The
President desired to know the opinions
of our Ministers abroad on a subject
which deeply concerned the United
States, and the Ministers were bound
to furnish it to him. Their minutes ex
hibited the importance of the island to
the United States, in a commercial and
strategical point of view, the advan
tages that would accrue to Spain from
the sale of it at a fair price, such as the
United States might be willing to*pay
for it, the difficulty which Spain would
encounter in endeavoring to keep pos
session of it by mere military power,
the sympathy of the people of the
United States with the inhabitants of
the island, and, finally, the possibility
that Spain, as a last resort, might en
deavor to Africanize Cuba, and become
instrumental in the reenacting of the

346

JAMES BUCHANAN.

scenes of St. Domingo., The American
Minister believed that in case Cuba
was about to be transformed into an
other St. Domingo, the example might
act perniciously on the slave population
of the Southern States of our own con
federacy, and there excite the blacks to
similar deeds of violence. In this case,
they held that the instinct of self-pre
servation would call for the armed in
tervention of the United States, and
we should be justified in wresting the
island by force from Spain."
Mr. Buchanan returned home'in the
spring of 1856, and in the following
summer received the nomination for the
Presidency from the Democratic con
vention which met at Cincinnati. In
the contest which ensued with Colonel
Fremont, the candidate of the new
Republican party, he was elected Pre
sident of the United States by the vote
of nineteen out of thirty-one States.
The popular vote was, for Buchanan,
1,803,029 ; for Fremont, 1,342,164; for
Fillmore, 874,625. The main interest
of Mr. Buchanan's administration cen
tered in the. discussion of the control
of the territories in reference to the in
troduction of Slavery. The ominous
agitations regarding Kansas, itself the
theatre of bloody conflict, employed
much of this period. At the close of
Mr. Buchanan's term the clouds which
had been gathering since its commence
ment broke in the storm of war. The
election of his successor, Mr. Lincoln,
the candidate of the Republican party,
was followed by secession in the South
ern States, and there was no weapon
in the hands of Mr. Buchanan power
ful enough to arrest the rebellion. He
spoke entreatingly, persuasively, in fa

vor of the preservation of the Union ;
but the South, whose interests he had
so long served, was deaf to his appeals.
The crisis which had arrived was des
tined to shatter his political creed.
Deserted by his old friends in Con
gress and even in his cabinet, he sum
moned to his aid new counsellors like
Scott, Dix, Stanton, Holt, and others
whose patriotism redeemed the last
days of his administration. In weak
ness, sorrow, almost in despair of the
future of his country, he assisted at the
inauguration of his successor, and left
Washington for the retirement of his
home and estate of Wheatland in the
vicinity of Lancaster, Pennsylvania.
There his days were passed in com
parative seclusion during the four years
of the national warfare for the preser
vation of the Union, while his leisure
was employed in the preparation of a
work, a review of the rise and progress
of the anti-slavery agitation and a vin
dication of the conduct of his adminis
tration of the Presidency. Under the
new order of affairs which followed the
successful termination of the war, the
publication of this bt>ok attracted little
attention. Its- composition, however,
imparted a certain dignity to the last
days of the venerable politician who,
claiming the rectitude of his intentions
and the consistency of his course, thus
made his appeal to the judgment of the
world. He did not long survive. Af
ter a brief illness he met death with
Christian resignation at Wheatland, on
the morning of the first day of June,
1868. His funeral at Lancaster was
largely attended, without distinction
of party, and the usual public honors
were paid to his memory.

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MILLARD FILLMORE.

The faniilj of Millard Fillmore has
an honorable deseent in American his
tory. Its records are diversified by
remarkable incidents of war and ad
venture. John Fillmore, the; great
grandfather of the President of the
United States, and the common ances-'
tor of all of that name in the United
States, was born at Ipswich, Massachu
setts,, about the beginning of the eight
eenth century. He is recollected as
the hero of a brave and successful
struggle with certain pirates into whose
hands it was his luck to fall in a sail
ing venture out of BOstOn. He was
about nineteen Avhen he sailed in a
fishing vessel from that port, and" had
been but a few days at sea when the
craft was captured': by a noted pirate
ship commanded by one Captain Phil
lips, Fillmore became a prisoner, and
so continued on board the ship for nine
months; steadily refusing his liberty on
the only condition on which it would
be granted, to sign the piratical articles
of the vessel and take part in its for
tunes. Though threatened with death,
he persisted in his denial, till finally,
two others having been taken captive,
he joined with them in an attack on
the crew ; several were killed ; the ves
sel was rescued and carried safely into
Boston. The surviving pirates were

tried and executed, and the captors
were honored by the thanks of the
British government. Young Fillmore
afterwards settled in Connecticut, where
he died. His son, Nathaniel, was
an early settler in the Hampshire
Grants, at Bennington, a frontier posi
tion in those days which, as a matter
of course, made him a soldier" in the
seven years' War with France. He was
also a -gallant Whig of the Revolution,
serving, when his home became the' the
atre of hostilities, as lieutenant under
General Stark, in the spirited and deci
sive conflict at Bennington. He died
in 1814, leaving a son, Nathaniel, who
early in life migrated to what is now
called Summer Hill, in Cayuga County,
New York, where he followed the life
of a farmer. There his son Millard, the
future President, was born, January 7,
1800. The family shortly after re
moved to another place in the same
county. " The narrow means of his father,"
we are told in a narrative of these early-
years, published some years since in the
"American Review," " deprived Millard,
of any advantages of education beyond
what were afforded by the imperfect and
ill-taught common schoolsof the county
Books were scarce and dear, and at the
age of -fifteen, when more favored

-W:

348

MIILLARD FILLMORE.

youths are far advanced in their classi
cal studies, or enjoying in colleges the
benefit of well-furnished libraries, young
Fillmore had read but little except his
common-school books and the Bible. At
that period he was sent into the then
wilds of Livingston County to learn the
clothier's trade. He remained there
about four months, and was then placed
with another person to pursue the same
business, and wool-carding, in the town
of Se'mpronius, now Niles, where his
father lived. A small village library
that was formed there soon after, gave
him .the first means of acquiring gene
ral knowledge through books. He im
proved the opportunity thus offered ;
the appetite grew by what it fed upon.
The thirst for knowledge soon became
insatiate, and every leisure moment was
spent in reading. Four years were
passed in this Way, working at his
trade and storing his mind, during such
hours as he could command, with the
contents of books of history, biography,
and travels. At the age of nineteen he
fortunately made an acquaintance with
the late Walter Wood, Esquire, whom
many will remember as one of the most
estimable citizens of Cayuga County.
Judge Wood was a man of wealth and
great business capacity ; he had an ex
cellent law library, but did little pro
fessional business. He soon saw that
under the rude exterior of the clothier's
boy, were powers that only required
proper development to raise the posses
sor to high distinction and usefulness,
and advised him to quit his trade and
study law. In reply to the objection
of a lack of education, means and
friends to aid him in a course of profes

sional study, Judge Wood kindly offered
to give him a place in his office, to ad
vance money to defray his expenses, and
wait until success in business should
furnish the means of repayment. The
offer was accepted. The apprentice boy
bought his time, entered the office of
Judge Wood, and for more than two
years applied himself closely to busi
ness and study He read law and
general literature and practised sur
veying." Not content with entire dependence
upon his benefactor for his support, he
resorted to that unfailing resource of an
American youth making progress from
poverty upward to the intellectual pro
fessions — he became a schoolmaster for
a portion of the year. At the age of
twenty-one he removed to Erie County,
and entered a law office in Buffalo. His
legal studies were completed in 1823,
when, diffident of success in a city so
well stocked with the profession as his
late residence, he began the practice of
law at Aurora. He shortly after was
married" to the daughter of the Rev.
Lemuel Powers. Success came to him
gradually, affording him ample time to
develop his studies by patient applica
tion. He pursued this path, gaining
his ground surely and steadily. In
1828, he was elected a member of the
assembly in the State legislature by a
Whig constituency of his county, and
signalized himself at Albany by his ad
voeacy of the bill for the abolition of
imprisonment for debt, a portion of
which was prepared by him as a mem
ber of the committee. He now had his
residence as a member of the bar at
Buffalo.

MILLARD FILLMORE.

¦349

His congressional life commenced in
1833, Avith his election to the House of
Representatives. ' It" was :the beginning
of the' second term of Jackson's admin
istration, that period of conflict which
was to test to the uttermost the party
strength-- of' 'the "great' -chieftain; and out
ofr which he was to emerge triumph
antly. Mr. Fillmore, a young member
of the House -of 'the losing- side was
there to learn his lesson of political
wisdom in the agitation. He secured
the respect of his constituents by- his
course' ' and made a considerable step
onward- in his career, without' greatly
attracting public attention. His term
of two years having, expired, he was not
immediately a candidate for reelection,
but devoted himself to his profession at
Buffalo. He was not, however, suffered
to rest in private life. In 1836, he was
again' elected' to Congress, taking his
seat at the commencement of Mr. Van
Bui'eh's ("administration,, and. continuing
to serve by reelection" through the
whole period of his Presidency He
rose with his experience in the national
counpils, .being 'inthis second term,-, the
first session of the twenty sixth Congress,
placed at the head of the committee on
electiohSjtwhiclrthreAV into his hands the
management of the famous contested
New Jersey case. Mr. 'Fillmore Avas
again elected to the next succeeding Con
gress of 1841, by a larger majority than
ho had hitherto received. The Whigs
being nowin power, he was placed at the
head of the ' important committee on
Ways and Means, Avhere he was charged
with duties Avhich fully called forth his
resources, and placed him at length, in a
conspicuous position before the public.
n.— 44

At the close of this term, though
renominated, by his friends in Erie
County, he persisted in' declining a con
tinuance in office. His profession had
claims upon his attention to which he
was eager to respond, and his tempera
ment invited repose. His political posi
tion, however, was too well established
for him to be left in quiet by his party
He was immediately adopted as their
candidate for Governor of New York,
accepted the nomination, and was de
feated in the election of 1844. In 1847
he was chosen comptroller of the State,
by a large majority. He commenced
his new duties at Albany, at the be
ginning of 1848, and' before the year
was closed, was nominated and elected
Vice-President of the United States.
He had the same vote with his princi
pal, General Taylor, of fifteen .States,
and a majority of the, electoral vote of
thirty-.six. . >¦
-The" duties of his new office of course
involved his. resignation of the comp-
trollership. He entered upon the Pre
sidency of the Senate in March, 1849 ;
it was an office which he was well fitted
to discharge, and he left behind him,
Avhen he was called to a higher station,
an impression of his moderation and
urbanity. On the 9th of July, 1850,
while Congress Avas in session, the sud
den death of General Taylor, devolved
upon him the cares and responsibilities
of the' Presidency. In deference to tht
general feeling of regret which was
called forth by the departure of this
estimable man, and in obedience to his
successor's own feelings, his entrance
into office was conducted in the sim
plest manner. The day after the death

350

MILLARD FILLMORE.

of the late President, attended by a
committee of the two Houses and the
members of the late President's cabinet,
the oath was administered to him, not
in front of the Capitol but in the Hall
of the House of Representatives, by the
venerable Judge Cranch, of the Circuit
Court of the District of Columbia,
" which being done, President Fillmore^
without any inaugural address, bowed
and retired, and the ceremony was at
an end."1
The loss of General Taylor was the
more felt as the country was at the
time agitated with the discussions
growing out of the* subject of slavery,
which had arisen with the question of
the disposition of the territory con
quered from Mexico ; and the late Pre
sident, of moderate views, and capable
of giving great weight to them in the
national councils, by his intimate rela
tions with the South, was looked to as
tne great mediator in effecting a com
promise of the conflicting interests.
This had already been proposed by Mr.
Clay, and found an advocate in the Pre
sident. Thus, when his aid seemed
most needed, he expired, leaving the
great Avork to be accomplished by his
successor. It was undertaken by him,
so far as the influence of his office ex
tended, in a spirit of conciliation. His
choice of Daniel Webster as Secretary
of State, and of the other members of
his cabinet, from different portions of
the Union, was an earnest of his inten
tions. The boundary between Texas
and New Mexico, a matter of some dif-
' Benton's Thirty Tears' View, II. 787.

ficulty, was adjusted, California waa
admitted as a free State, Utah Territory •
was organized, and the Fugitive Slave
Law enacted. In other affairs of social
importance, President Fillmore's brief
term of office was signalized by several
incidents which will always find a place
in the history of the country. The re
duction of postage on letters to the uni
form rate of three cents, the return of
the government Arctic expedition of
Lieutenant De Haven, sent in quest of
Sir John Franklin, the visit of Kossuth
to the country in 1851, the sailing- of
Commodore Perry's expedition to Ja
pan in the following year, are events
which will be more lasting in their con
sequences than many battles which have
filled, for the time, a larger space in the
public attention.
Mr. Fillmore's term of office closed in
the spring of 1853. The following year
he made a tour in the South, where he
was well received, and in 1855 visited
Europe to return in season for the Pre
sidential canvass of 1856. He was put
forward in that election as a medium
candidate of the American party, be
tween the nominee of the Democratic
party, Mr. Buchanan, and Colonel Fre
mont, of the Republican. In such a
contest there was little strength to be
wasted by the two great divisions
which swallowed up the rest. Mr.
Fillmore received the vote only of the
single State of Maryland.
Since that period Mr. Fillmore has
not been before the public as a candi
date for office. He has continued to
reside in the western part of the State
of New York.

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NATHANIEL LYON.

The family of General Lyon has
Deen traced in direct male line to a
Scottish. knight of the sixteenth cen
tury, several of whose descendants, in
that country were driven, in the, foUow
ing century, by the disturbed state of
public affairs, to emigrate to New Eng
land, Ephraim Lyon, the grandfather
of the subject of this notice, served in
the -War. of the Revolution, and subse
quently was settled. as a -lawyer and.
farmer . in the : town of. Ashford, Connec
ticut, His third, son, Amasa, married
a daughter of Lieutenant Daniel Knowl-
ton, an. officer of reputation, in the old
French war and. the- War of the Revo
lution, and brother of the memorable
Colonel KnowLton,- whose ¦ skill and
valor- were so serviceable at -Bunker
Hill, and who ended his, days on the
field, in the army ' of Washington, at
Harlem Heights. -Nathaniel, the fourth
son of Amasa, and the seventh -of a
family of nine, children, was born at the,
old farm-house in Ashford, July 14th,
1818. A thoughtful and studious
boyj he diligently availed himself of
the means of instruction within , his
reach at the district school of^the town,
and warmed by the patriotic blood
Avhich fan in his veins, and the example
of his ancestors, early formed the reso
lution of entering the army. His pre

liminary education having been com
pleted at an academy at Brooklyn, Ct.
he was admitted a cadet at, West -Point,
in 1-8.37. . His- time was profitably
passed at, .this' institution, and. at the
expiration of/ his course in 1841, stand
ing eleventh iu a class of fifty-t,wo, ie
was sent forth -to the Avorld.' Second
Lieutenant in the .Second Regiment of
Infantry, The first service to which he. was
called was in the Florida- War, which
was then drawing to a close, after, hav
ing for six years ^axed/the best efforts Of
successive military commanders of dis
tinction. Lieutenant Lyon's company
was distinguished by its activity in the -
concluding military operations in 1-842:.
He was next stationed a,t Sacket's Har
bor, where we:find him employing his.
leisure in the reading of law and- in .
other studies, cultivating an independ
ent habit of thinking, opposed to the
annexation of Texas, -and; foreseeing in
it the germ of hostilities. When: -the
war broke out- in 1846, he was sent .
with his company to join the column
of. General Taylor on the Rio Grande.
He reached the army after the capture
of Monterey, and was presently ordered •
with his company to the command of
General Scott, then about to advance
upon the capital. Lieutenant Lyon

va

352

NATHANIEL LYON.

joined Scott's forces at Lobos Island,
and was with them- at the landing
at Vera Cruz, and in the siege ope
rations against that city. Attached to
the advanced division of General
Twiggs, he was actiyelyengaged in the
battle of Cerro' Gordo, and subse
quently, inlthe actions of Contreras and
Cherubusco, for his gallantry in which,
he. was . made Brevet Captain.
'On his return, to' the United States,
Captain Lyon was ordered to California,
where he was for several years employed
in active service in campaigns among the
Indians,1 in which' he was distinguished
by ,the promptness and celerity of his
movements. His conduct of an expe
dition in -."northern California against
the Indians of Clear Lake, who had
committed various outrages' calling for
redress, gained for him the applause of
his brother,' offieers,"-who, -, in the • words
of General Persifer F. Smith,"" the- com-'
mander of the Department, " All unite
in awarding to Captain Lyon the highest
praise for his untiring energy, zeal, and
skill." In 1852 he obtained leave of
absence to visit his home, to which he
was recalled by the illness , of his
mother, to whom he. was tenderly at
tached. She died, however, before his
arrival. Returning to California, he was or
dered the following year to the East,
and after passing a portion of the win
ter and spring of ¦ 1854 at Washington,
where the discussion of the relations.
of the nation to slavery much engaged
his attention, he was sent to the terri
tory of Kansas, where the questipn was.
about to^ be answered in physical argu
ments of a more practical character

than the speeches of Congressmen.
Lyon, by principle and the Con
stitution of his( mind, was in favor
of freedom, and he watched the ap
proach of the coming struggle witn
a solemn sense of responsibility. Im
patient of the efforts made to force
slavery upon the virgin territory, he
determined, if ordered into Kansas to
enforce the laws of the unfairly-elected
pro-slavery legislature, ^ to resign 'his
commission rather than fight * against
his convictions of duty. He was 'sent,
however, upon other service among the
Indians of the Far West, where his time
was chiefly passed in various . arduous
duties down to the period of his em
ployment in the opening scenes of the
War for the Union,' in Missouri. ' Pre
viously to these events he had written
a series of articles in favor of the suc
cess of the. Republican party in the Pre
sidential election, which were printed in
the summer and autumn of 1859 in the
"Western Kansas Express," 'arid' which
have since been collected into a volume,
and published in New York.
On the inauguration ' of President
Lincoln, Captain Lyori was' placed, in
charge of the ' arsenal at . St. ' Louis.
The forethought and "capacity which
he displayed in this command deter
mined the political fortunes of the
State. The Governor and a large party
of wealthy, influential citizens were
ready and anxious to side with the
South in the rebellion inaugurated in
South Carolina. Under the' pretence
of armed , neutrality, ' though a con
vention which had been called had
pronounced in favor of the Union, it,
was the effort of Governor Jackson and

NATHANIEL LYON.

35S

the Legislature to hold the poAver of
the State in their hands, under, in
fluence's adverse to the National Gov
ernment. To resist this, and keep Mis
souri loyal to the Union, was the work
of Captain Lyon, to which: he devoted
every energy.. With a handful of men
at the arsenal, he baffled the efforts of
a mob of insurgents who beset the
place,': and secured the removal of a
large quantity of arms stored there, to
Illinois. A few days, after this incident,
on the thirtieth of April, he was for
mally authorized by President Lincoln
to enroll a force of ten thousand citi
zens of the State, and, if necessary -for
the preservation of the peace, and the
authority of the United States,, pro
claim martial law.
On the sixth of May, .affairs at St.
Louis were approaching, a. crisis'. The
local. Police Commissioners/ demanded
the withdrawal of the Federal troops
Avhich Captain Lyon had collected,
from the grounds around the arsenal,
which Captain Lyon - refused, and a
feAV days after, on the tenth, himself
marched to disperse a band of militia
which had been established by the
Governor, in a camp near the city, and
which was named after him, Camp
Jackson. Captain Lyon surrounded
the encampment with his men, planting
cannon on the adjacent heights, and
demanded an immediate surrender.
General Frost, in command of the
militia, accordingly surrendered the
Avhole force as prisoners of war. As
they were marched to the city, an as
sault was made on Captain Lyon's
Home Guard, Avhich fired in return ; a
number were killed and Avounded, and

the greatest alarm and confusion pre
vailed that night' in. .the city. Order
was, however, restored by /the military,
The next day, General :Harriey arrived
and took command in the city; and,, a
few days after Captain Lyon was ap^
pointed by the President, Brigadier-
General of Volunteers. i
When General Harney soon, after was
recalled, in consequence of ah injudi
cious concession' in an arrangement
Avith General 'Price, of the. State militia;
General Lyon succeeded- him in. the De
partment. An interview with Governor
Jackson was. presently, (on the eleventh
of June) held/with General 'Lyon, at St.
Louis, in which the former promised tc
disband the State Guard and militia,' arid
demanded in return the breaking .up of
the Home Guard [by the General Gov
ernment, : and that ' no portion of its
troops : should . occupy any new portion
of the State. General Lyon, knowing
that Missouri could be -held only by
positive authority, refused". any such
negotiation, and Governor Jackson left
for Jefferson City, Avhere he fulminated
an address " to the people of Missouri,"
calling for 50,000 men to repel inva
sion. General Lyon accepted the issue,
and on the 13th June, the day aftei
the proclamation, ¦ sailed up the Mis
souri with 1,500 troops for the capital,
when the rebellious Governor and his
associates fled before him to Boonville,
Avhither, on the seventeenth, they were
pursued by the Union force, and offer
ing resistance in the neighborhood of
the town, were completely routed.
Having established the national au
thority in this quarter, General Lye
prepared to move southward, and pas*

354

NATHANIEL LYON.

ing by forced marches to and beyond
Springfield, again, on the twelfth of
August, met and defeated the Confede
rates at Dug Springs, nineteen miles
from the latter place. Returning to
Springfield, his small and enfeebled
force was there endangered by the ap
proach of the enemy in greatly superior
numbers. Calling in vain for reinforce
ments, he was compelled by his sense
of the necessities of the occasion, to
offer battle on disadvantageous terms.
He went out to meet the foe, attacked
them on the tenth of August in their
camp at Wilson's Creek, and in the
midst of the perils of that day which
was so gallantly sustained by the
Union forces, fell, pierced with three
wounds, in the thickest of the fight;
nobly offering up his life a sacrifice to
the cause of his bleeding country. In
the simple and truthful language of
Major Sturges, his second in command
on that day: "Thus gloriously fell as
brave a soldier as ever drew a sword ;

a man whose honesty of purpose was
proverbial; a noble patriot, and one
who held his life as nothing when his
country demanded it of him."
The remains of General Lyon were
brought in long funeral procession,
everywhere honored by expressions of
profound sympathy, through St. Louis,
Cincinnati, Pittsburg, Philadelphia,
New York, and Hartford, to his last
simple resting-place, amidst the home
scenery of his youth, at Eastford, where,
in front of the village church, in the pre
sence of the Governors of Connecticut
and Rhode Island, and others in autho
rity, and a congregation of faithful
mourners, an oration by the Hon. Ga-
lusha A. Grow, the Speaker of the
National House of Representatives, was
delivered, and the last services per
formed. Certainly among the heroes
of three wars, whose lives are recorded
in these pages, no purer or more de
voted patriot has challenged our attec
tion than Nathaniel Lyon.

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LEWIS GASS.

Lewis Cass, was bom ¦ at Exeter,
New Hampshire, October 9, 1782. His
ancestry, :both on the- father's and
mother's .side;: belongs to the early Pu
ritan ..stock! of New -England, of .which
his father, Jonathan- Cass, was a sturdy
representative; At nineteen,- leaving
the severe foils'. of the New Hampshire
forest;, to enlist, at the ; first call, ': as a
soldier., of .the Revolution, he served
through the war :frorii; Bunker Hill to
its close./ with credit, when he retired
with .the. rank of captain. He was
afterwards attached to the army on : its
reorganization, and, joining ¦ Wayne's
western army, was appointed a major,
and. stationed at Fort Hamilton, in
Ohio. Resigning, his commission not
long after, he received a tract of bounty
land! for his services, upon the Mus
kingum River, near Zanesville. This
became his homeland the home of his
family ; and it Avas thus that the sub-
ject of : our sketch was introduced to
the western, region with which he be
came so strongly identified.
The birth of Lewis Cass occurred
as we have stated, at the close of the
Revolution, at Exeter. The boy had at
least one. piece of good fortune in that
locality. It was the seat of the excel
lent academy of Benjamin Abbott,
v\-here many of the most • illustrious

sons of New England,, as Daniel Wei)'
ster, the Everetts, and Buckingham,' re
ceived their education. Young Cass
was entered there at the age of ten and
left it at seventeen, when his father re;
moved to the West. On leaving their
home. in New England, the family did
not at once proceed to their new resi
dence, but travelled thither by a round
about Way, with several detentions at
cities of importance, which gave the
young Lewis a valuable introduction
to the society of the period. They
tarried for a while at Wilmington, in
Delaware, where Lewis was employed
in teaching in the academy ;- thence they
journeyed by Harper's Ferry and Win
chester to Pittsburg ; thence by the
river Ohio- -to Marietta. At. ¦ every
step some interesting acquaintance was
formed with the; heroes of the late war,
or some fresh experience gained of the
new western' world rising before them.
When his father passed on to his land
on the Muskingum, Lewis remained at
Marietta, to study law- with Governor
¦Meigs ; Judge of the Supreme Court- of "
the territory, and. subsequently with
Mathew Baccus, a lawyer of the town.
Tavo years were thus passed when, at the
close of 1802, before he was of age, he
Avas admitted to the practice of the
.profession. Bu«dness flowed ir upon
855

356

LEWIS CASS.

ci^.

him at his office in his father's neigbor-
hood, at Zanesville, and he was speedily
accepted as one of the rising men of the
new country. He was married in 1806
to Elizabeth Spencer, daughter of a
gentleman of New York, who had
settled in Virginia, and, the same year,
was first introduced to political life by
his election as a member of the Ohio
Legislature, Avhich then assembled at
Chillicothe, the capital of the new
State. The Ohio River was at that moment
attracting the public attention as the
scene of Colonel Burr's supposed trea
sonable preparations in the equipment
of a fleet of boats, with the intention,
as some thought, of separating the
western States and dismembering the
Union. A- messenger, the Chief Clerk
in the Department of State, was sent
by President Jefferson to ascertain
the public sentiment and condition of
things in Ohio. He was in communi
cation with the Governor, and the
Governor brought the matter before
the Legislature. A special committee
was appointed, on which Mr: Cass was
placed, to investigate the affair. A
bill was in consequence reported by
him conferring power upon the Gover
nor to arrest all concerned in the con
spiracy The boats were seized and
the affair put an end to. Mr. Cass fur
ther signalized his patriotism and de
votion to Jefferson, by proposing an
address to the President, which Avas
adopted by the Legislature. It was
clear in its professions of attachment to
the Union and the Constitution. Pre
sident Jefferson replied to the address
with unusual satisfaction. " The hand

of the people," he wrote, " has given a
mortal blow to a conspiracy, which, in
other countries, would have called for
an appeal to arms, and has proved that
government to be the strongest, of
which every man feels himself a part.
It is a happy illustration, too, of pre
serving to the State authorities all the
vigor which the Constitution foresaw
would, be necessary, not only for their
own safety, but for that of the whole."
Whether owing to -the. part borne by
Mr. Cass in this affair or riot, the next
year, the President appointed him. to
the office of United States Marshal for
the State of Ohio,' which he held- till
the close of the year 1811, when the
threatening aspect of the Indians on
the frontier, and the imminent war
with; Great Britain, led to a call for
volunteer troops in the State, and he
volunteered his services as a member
of the, newly raised force. Joining this
body at the rendezvous at Dayton, in
the spring of 1812, he was assigned to
the cominarid. of one of the three regi
ments thus formed, and commissioned
as colonel. ' The whole, united with a
body of regulars under Colonel Miller,
was placed under the command of
Brigadier-General Hull, the Governor
of the Michigan Territory. The design
was to invade Canad; from Detroit,
cooperate with a similar attack at Nia
gara, and, joined by a force from Pitts
burg, advance to the conquest of
Montreal. In accordance Avith this
general plan, Colonel Cass led hia
troops a rough and Avearisome march,
two hundred miles through the wilder
ness, from the station at Urbanna to
Detroit. When, on the last day of

LEWIS LASS.

357

June, the expedition reached the rapids
of the Maumee, near its entrance into
Lake Erie, General Hull, not even then-
aAvare that war had been declared at
Washington, on the eighteenth sent his
sick, a portion of his stores and bag
gage, fonvard by water," to Detroit.
The British, it appeared, were better
informed than he was. They knew
that war had commenced, and quietly,
from their station at Maiden, captured
his vessel on its approach to the De
troit River. With the spoils were the
private papers of Hull, so that the
enemy was put in possession of all the
military details and objects of his expe
dition. The American general received
the news of the declaration after this
event. Notwithstanding, however, the
advantage thus gained, the British
made no effort to intercept the march,
which was successfully pursued to De
troit. There a council of war was
called, in which Colonel Cass advo
cated rapid action, in an attack upon
Maiden, while General Hull was irreso
lute, but presently yielded to the move
ment. The army crossed the river on
the llth of July, Colonel Cass taking
the advance, and being the first to land
on British- soil after the declaration of
war. There was some delay waiting
for artillery at Windsor, on the shore
opposite to Detroit, while a proclama
tion, written by General Cass, was cir
culated among the inhabitants. Hull
still counselled inaction. A week after
crossing, on the seventeenth, Colonel
Cass was allowed to move forward to
take possession of a bridge at an inter
mediate river, four miles from the fort.
He managed this affair with success,
n.— 45

leaving a company of riflemen to divert
the enemy at the bridge, while he
passed his men over the river above ;
he then met the British and drove
them before him with loss. This ad
vantage might have led to the conquest
of the fort, had not Hull, with inexcu
sable timidity, withdrawn the force
from the position it had so creditably
gained. His next movement was to re
turn to Detroit, in consequence of the
defeat of a party which had been sent
from the camp to assist in bringing up
some provisions- which were on the
way. This retreat took place on the
8th of August. A second detachment,
under Colonel Miller, was then sent to
escort the provision train, which was
also met by the enemy, when a sharp
engagement ensued. Though the Ame
rican party held its ground, it was re
called, the commander-in-chief having a
wholesome fear of the Indians who
took part in these contests and infested
the region. Still a third attempt was
made to open the communication with
the expected supplies, which was led
by Colonels Cass and McArthur. The
party started from Detroit on the four
teenth of the month, the very day the
energetic General Brock arrived to take
the command at Maiden, and before its
return Hull had surrendered his entire
force, including the party led by Colo
nel Cass and his brother officer. Re
luctantly were they compelled to ac
quiesce in this arrangement. Colonel
Cass, on being called to deliver his
sword, indignantly drew it from its
scabbard, and breaking it in two, threw
it away. He was released upon parole,
returned to Ohio, and thence tra veiled

358

LEWIS CASS,

to Washington at the request of his
brother soldiers, to inform the govern
ment of the particulars of this ignomi
nious surrender.
For^he remainder of the year Colo
nel Cass was incapacitated by his pa
role from any active part in the duties
of the field. He was discharged from
this obligation, however, in January,
1813, by exchange, when he was com
missioned colonel in the regular army,
and charged with raising and organiz
ing an Ohio regiment. He joined Gen
eral Harrison, the commander-in-chief
in the West, in the summer, with the
increased rank of Brigadier-General ;
was with the army in its preparatory
movements in the neighborhood of Lake
Erie ; and, after the victory of Perry, in
September had opened the way for the
invasion of Canada, crossed with Gene
ral Harrison to Maiden, and with him
entered Detroit in triumph. The Bri
tish General, Proctor, had fled before
the advancing Americans, by the way
of Lake St. Clair and the Thames. His
slow movement gave opportunity for
pursuit; he was overtaken by Harri
son, and defeated on the 5th of Octo
ber, in the Battle of the Thames, in
which Colonel Richard M. Johnson
bore so prominent a part. General
•'¦ Cass was with the American forces, act
ing with Perry as volunteer aid to- the
commanding general, and, with the
hero of Lake Erie, contributing greatly,
by his spirit and exertions, to the suc
cess of the day. On the advance of
General Harrison, he was left in com
mand of the North- Western frontier,
with his head-quarters at Detroit. He
had hardly entered upon this office,

however, before he received the ap
pointment from President Madison of
Governor of the Territory of Michigan.
This devolved upon him new and im
portant duties, both of a military and
civil character, in making provision for
the defence of the frontier, and as the
Superintendent of Indian Affairs. He
took part with General Harrison in the
grand council of the Indians at Green
ville, in July, 1814, and was afterwards
much employed in conciliating the
friendly tribes, and opposing the hosti
lities offered by others, in the region
placed under his protection.
On the conclusion of peace, General
Cass established himself with his family
at Detroit. His attention was at once
turned to the settlement and occupa
tion of the territory, which was then a
wilderness roamed over by the Indians.
The first step was to negotiate with
them for the cession of the land. This
was successfully accomplished in the
treaty which he made, in pursuance of
directions of the Government at Wash
ington, with the Indians in council at
Fort Meigs, in the spring of 1817, a
treaty by which the Indian title to four
millions of acres of land in Ohio, Indi
ana, and Michigan was extinguished,
and the policy of removal fairly adopted
— a treaty which was pronounced by
the Secretary of War, Mr. Calhoun,
" in its fiscal, moral, and political effects,
the most important of any hitherto
made with the Indians." x General Cass
was also engaged in subsequent treaties
of cession of the tribes at St. Marys and
Saginaw. A military road from San
1 Smith's Lewis Cass, p. 112.

LEWIS CASS.

35!)

dusky to Detroit was undertaken at his
instigation, and the first newspaper in
Michigan, "The Detroit Gazette," com
menced in 1817 under his auspices.
Seeing the benefits of a good understand
ing with the Indian tribes, and for the
further development of the countiy, he
advised a government expedition into
the Lake Superior region and the inter
vening territory to the Mississippi, -with
a view, in the words of his communica-
cation to the War Department at Wash
ington, in November, 1819, "to examine
the productions of its animal, vegetable,
and mineral kingdoms; to explore its
facilities for water communication; to
delineate its natural objects, and to
ascertain its present and future proba
ble value;" with the further political
objects of becoming acquainted with
the condition of the Indian tribes in
the regions, and extinguishing their
titles to the land.
The expedition was accordingly or
ganized, with a corps of scientific men,
including Mr. Henry R. Schoolcraft, as
mineralogist; Captain D. B. Douglass
Professor of engineering at West Point,
as topographer and astronomer ; a num
ber of Canadian voyageurs, interpreters,
etc., and a small military escort. Thus
armed and equipped, the party, led by
General Cass, set forth at the end of
May, 1820. Entering Lake Huron, it
pursued the Michigan shore to Macki
naw, thence by the Sault St. Marie,
where an Indian council was held, to
the copper region on the southern
coast of Lake Superior, advancing to
the Fond du Lac, at its most westerly
portion. Ascending then the St. Louis
River, and crossing by the portages to

Lake du Sable, the Mississippi River
was entered and traversed a distance
of three hundred and fifty miles, to the
Upper Red Cedar Lake. They then
descended the Mississippi fourteen hun
dred miles to Prairie du Chien, cross
ing by the Fox and Wisconsin to
Green Bay, whence General Cass re
turned to Detroit, accomplishing in
four months a journey exceeding four
thousand miles, "without the occur
rence of a single untoward accident
sufficiently important to deserve recol
lection." The interesting volume of
Mr. Schoolcraft, " Travels from Detroit
to the Sources of the Mississippi," pub
lished in the following year, made the
incidents of this tour familiar to the
public. For nearly eighteen years General
Cass administered the government of
Michigan, continuing the negotiations
with the Indians, assisting immigra
tion, and in every way developing the
resources of the region under his
charge. It was a position of great care
and responsibility, involving many ser
vices of a novel character, which will
always find their faithful record, be
coming of increasing interest as time
separates the reader and the progress
of civilization from this early period,
already, within the lifetime of General
Cass himself, grown antiquated in the
history of new States of the Union.
In August, 1831, General Cass was
appointed by President Jackson, Secre
tary of War, on the reorganization of
the Cabinet which followed the resigna
tion of Mr. Van Buren. In addition to
the political cares of that anxious pe
riod, which taxed the energies of every

360

LEWIS CASS.

member of that active administration,
and the general duties of his depart
ment, General Cass had charge of new
Indian negotiations, and even the con
duct of a war with the Sacs and Foxes,
led by the famous chieftain Black
Hawk. Nor was this all. In the same
year with this latter conflict on the Mis
sissippi, one of a more portentous cha
racter was threatened in the nullifica
tion threat of South Carolina. The
views of the President in reference to
that agitation are well known, as well
as the measures he took of counsel and
defence to maintain the integrity of the
Union. To General Cass, as Secretary
of War, fell the delicate task of commu
nicating the necessary instructions to
General Scott, who was sent to the re
gion to provide adequate security to
the public property and defences of the
nation. General Cass held the office of Secre
tary of War some three years longer,
into the second term of Jackson's ad
ministration, when, his health failing
under the continuous round of labori
ous duties at Washington, his resigna
tion was accepted, and he received im
mediately the appointment of Minister
to France. He accepted the office Avith
the condition that he might be allowed
to vary its duties by travel in other
parts of Europe and the East. The
coveted opportunity presented itself in
1837, the spring of the year succeeding
his entrance upon his new duties at
Paris. Leaving Marseilles in the frigate
Constitution, commanded by Commo
dore Elliott, he visited in turn the me
morable lands of the Mediterranean,
sacred in history and literature, Rome,

Sicily, Malta, Athens, the islands of the
^Egean, Constantinople, the coast of
Asia Minor, thence to Jaffa, whence he
travelled to Jerusalem, Damascus, and
Baalbec, crossing Lebanon to Tripoli,
where he rejoined the Constitution.
Sidon and other places of interest on
the coast were then visited, when the
voyage was extended by way of Cyprus
to Egypt, where he made the tour of
the Nile, returning to Paris in Novem
ber, after an absence of eight months.
During the whole of this journey he
was occupied with study and observa
tion, of which he has published many
interesting particulars, of the men and
condition of the various lands which he
visited. Seated once more at Paris, he had, in
the occupant of the French throne of
that period, a character to study quite
as noticeable as any vvhieh he had met
with on his travels. Louis Philippe,
a portion of whose life had been passed
in America, in scenes with which the
pioneer experiences of General Cass had
led him to be perfectly familiar, was
naturally attracted toward so intelli
gent a companion and ready listener.
He talked familiarly with him of his life
and traATels, and communicated many
interesting circumstances which, toge
ther AAdth other matters relating to the
nation, General Cass afterwards gave to
the public in a very pleasant volume,
entitled " France, its King, Court, and
Government." In 1842, General Cass was engaged in
his mission in an elaborate course of op
position to the Quintuple Treaty in re
ference to the slave trade, proposed be
tween Austria, Russia, Prussia, France

LEWIS CASS.

361

and the United States, one of the pro
visions of which involved the right of
maritime search. He appealed to the
people of France in a pamphlet upon
the subject, discussing the motives of
the British government and the position
of his own, the various essential and
practical bearings of the question, the
history of the discussion, and an exami
nation of its recent course. The treaty
was ratified neither by France nor the
United States. The matter, however,
in the view of General Cass, still existed
as ground of diplomatic jealousy be
tween his own country and England ;
and, thinking the ground which he had
taken not properly supported in the
treaty made by Mr. Webster with Lord
Ashburton, he consequently, in Septem
ber, 1842, requested his recall. Before
leaving Paris, he was entertained at a
complimentary dinner given by the
Americans in that city. He then re
turned to America, landing at Boston
in December. Thence he hastened to
Washington, and shortly after pro
ceeded to Detroit, where a hearty home
welcome awaited him.
The remainder of his public life is
familjar to the public. In 1845, he was
elected by the Legislature of Michigan
to the Senate of the United States, and
held that position till his nomination
to the Presidency, in 1848. In the
general election of that year he was the
candidate for the chief magistracy of
the Democratic party, in opposition to
General Taylor, the nominee of the
Whigs. He received the vote of fifteen
States, and an aggregate popular vote
of 1,223,795, being 138,447 less than
that of General Taylor, who was elected
by the. remaining fifteen States. The

election being thus decided, General
Cass was returned to the Senate by the
Legislature of Michigan for the re
mainder of the period for which he had
been originally chosen. In 1851, his
senatorial term having expired, he was
again chosen senator for a period of six
years. The following year his name
was again before the democratic nomi
nating convention as a candidate for the
Presidency. His election in that body
appeared probable in the early stages
of the balloting, which was protracted
for several days, when Franklin Pierce
of New Hampshire received the nomi
nation. In the subsequent election of
1856, General Cass Avas a supporter of
Mr. Buchanan, who, on taking his seat
as President, called his friend to his
side as Secretary of State. There he
remained in the honorable discharge of
his duties till near the close of the ad
ministration, when, protesting against
the want of firmness which prevailed
in treating the rebellion which had
arisen, and disheartened at the lack of
patriotism in the cabinet, he resigned
his position in December, 1860, demon
strating by the act, in the words of
Senator Baker, of California, " that he
loved his country more than he loved
either state or place, or power or
party." 1 He then retired to his home
in Michigan, where on more than one
occasion he gave the encouragement of
his voice and example to the War for
the Union into which the nation was
forced. He lived to see peace restored,
tranquilly passing the last years of his
life at his residence at Detroit, where
he died on the 17th of June, 1866.

1 Speech in the Senate, January 2, 1861.

ORMSBY MCKNIGHT MITCHELL

Ormsbt McKnight Mitchel was
born of Virginia pareritage, in Union
County, Kentucky, August 28th, 1810.
His father dying. when the' son was but
two years old, the family, in 1816, re
moved to Lebanon, Warren County,
Ohio, where young Mitchel received
his first education. At the early age
of thirteen he began life as a merchant's
clerk, serving in that capacity in the
town of Piqua, and afterwards in Leba
non and Xenia. At fifteen, he was ap
pointed to a cadetship at West Point,
studied zealously, and was graduated
in due course in 1829, ranking fifteenth
in a class of forty-six, which included
Robert E. Lee. and Joseph E. Johnston,
who, together with himself were des
tined, though on opposite sides, to ac
quire an eminent military reputation in
the great conflicts of the unparalleled
rebellion in which the fortunes of their
country Avere the stake. Young Mitchel
now received the rank of second lieuten
ant of artillery. He did not, however,
leave the Military Academy, being at
once appointed Acting Assistant Pro
fessor of Mathematics, a position which
he retained for two years, and which
sufficiently points out the strong bent
of his mind and his proficiency while
in the institution. In June, 1831,
Lieutenant Mitchel was employed in

the survey of the Philadelphia and
Morristown railroad, and in the follow
ing September was engaged upon the
Pennsylvania arid Ohio Railroad, which
occupied him about a month, when he
went to his post at : St. Augustine, Flo
rida, destined subsequently to be in
cluded in his important military com
mand. There he remained until the
following June, when he resigned his
rank in the army to engage in the pro
fession of the law, to which he had now
turned his studies, was admitted to the
bar in Cincinnati, Ohio, and was occu
pied in practice for two years, when
the bent of his disposition and the
course of his original studies led him
to open a scientific school. For ten
years, from 1834 to 1844, he held the
position of Professor of Mathematics,
Philosophy, and Astronomy, at the Cin
cinnati College, where he won a dis
tinguished reputation by his scientific
abilities, and his zeal and aptitude in
the discharge of his neAV duties. He
was meanwhile engaged, from 1836 to
1837, as Chief Engineer of the Little
Miami Railroad, and in 1841 was a
member of the Board'of Visitors to, the
Military Academy at West Point. A
project Avhich grew out of his professor
ship now engaged all the enthusiasm
of his susceptible nature. This was

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ormsby Mcknight mitchel.

363

the establishment of an observatory at
Cincinnati, an undertaking beset with
many difficulties which were finally
overcome by his energy and perse
verance. He not only took upon him
self, we are told, to raise the necessary
funds, but even devoted all the time
he could spare from his duties as
professor, to oversee the hod-carriers
and bricklayers. In November, 1843,
the corner-stone of the observatory was
laid by John Quincy Adams, and the
building was completed in 1845, when
Professor Mitchel, to supply the insti
tution with the necessary apparatus,
made a flying trip to Europe, visiting
London, Paris, and Munich, making his
contracts, and returning to .Cincinnati,
after an absence of only fourteen weeks.
He now took up his quarters at the ob
servatory, and commenced his observa
tions of the heavenly bodies, in connec
tion with which he invented a new
declination apparatus, which he made
the subject of a report to the Ameri
can Association for the Advancement
of Science, and which was favorably
reported upon by a committee of that
body. In 1846, he began and con
tinued the publication for two years of
an astronomical journal entitled the
"Siderial Messenger." In 1847, he
held the position of Adjutant-General
of the State of Ohio. In 1848, he pub
lished a series of ten lectures, a popular
exposition of the modern astronomy, in
a volume entitled "The Planetary and
Stellar Worlds," which, from his repute
as a lecturer, and its intrinsic merits,
was received with general favor. He
was the same year appointed Chief En
gineer of the Ohio and Mississippi Rail

road. In 1859, he was made Director
of the Dudley Observatory, at Albany,
still holding his supervision of the
similar institution at Cincinnati. In
1860, he published a second volume of
popular astronomy, "A concise Ele
mentary Treatise, on the Sun, Planets,
Satelites, and Comets," in which he
presented the result of his own obser
vations and the new methods which
he had employed in the observatories
at Cincinnati and Albany.
From this useful career, in which, by
his lectures in the chief cities he had
excited the enthusiasm of his country
men for his favorite science, the out
break of the Rebellion called Professor
Mitchel to new duties in the resump
tion of his early military employments.
He was among the foremost to appre
ciate the demands of the times. In the
memorable meeting at Union Square,
in the city of New York, on the twen
tieth of April, 1861, a week after the
fall of Sumter, he addressed the vast
assembly in words of stirring eloquence.
Recalling his early days, when, in his
own words, " a poor boy, working my
way with my own hands, at the age of
twelve, I turned out to take care of
myself as best I could, and beginning
by earning but four dollars a month ;
I worked my Avay onward until this
glorious government gave me a chance
at the Military Academy at West Point,
where I landed with a knapsack on my
•back and, I tell you God's truth— just
a quarter of a dollar in my pocket," he
vowed anew faithfulness to the nation
to which he had then sworn allegiance,
No one estimated more truly the sacri
fices which would be required in the

364

ormsby Mcknight mitchel.

War for the Union, and no one was
more ready to make them. "I only
ask," he exclaimed, " to be permitted to
act, and in God's name give me some
thing to do."
The proffer was not neglected. In
August, 1861, Professor Mitchel was
appointed brigadier-general of volun
teers, and ordered to the Department
of the Ohio. He was usefully employed
in the organization of the force which
was raised in Kentucky, and took the
field at the head of an important divi
sion in General Buell's army, in the ad
vance upon Bowling Green, in Febru
ary, 1862. A general order to his
troops on. that occasion was significant
of the energy and rapidity of his move
ments. In stirring words, commemo
rating thejr activity in a march of forty
miles in twenty-eight hours and a half,
and the flight of the foe, he concluded :
" I trust you feel precisely as does your
commanding general, that nothing is
done while anything remains to be
done." Another order of General
Mitchel, dated on the soil of Alabama,
at Huntsville, records the victorious
progress of his division : " Soldiers,
your march upon Bowling Green
won the thanks and confidence of
your commanding general. With en
gines and cars captured from the
enemy, our advance guard precipitated
itself upon Nashville. It was now
made your duty to seize and destroy
the Memphis and Charleston Railway
the great military road of the enemy.
With a supply train only sufficient to
feed you at a distance of two days'
march from your depot, you undertook
the herculean task of rebuilding twelve

hundred feet of heavy bridging, Avhich,
by your untiring energy, Avas accom
plished in ten days. Thus, by a rail
way of your own construction, your
depot of supplies was removed from
Nashville to ShelbyviUe, nearly sixty
miles, in the direction of the object of
your attack. The blow now became
practicable. Marching with a celerity
such as to outstrip any messenger who
might have attempted to announce
your coming, you fell upon Huntsville,
taking your enemy completely by sur
prise, and capturing not only his great
military road, but all his machine-
shops, engines, and rolling-stock. Thus
providing yourself with ample trans
portation, you have struck blow after
blow with a rapidity unparalleled.
Stevenson fell, sixty miles to the east
of Huntsville, Decatur and Tuscumbia
have been in like manner seized and
are now occupied. In three days you
have extended your front of operations
more than one hundred and twenty
miles, and your morning gun at Tus
cumbia may now be heard by your
comrades on the battle-field recently
made glorious by their victory before
Corinth." For these and other services
in Alabama, General. Mitchel was pro
moted to be Major-General.
His next important sphere of duty
Avas in South Carolina, where in Sep
tember, 1862, he succeeded General
Hunter in the command of the Depart
ment of the South. There, after be-
stowing attention upon the, military
affairs of his department, he became at
nice engaged in efforts to improve the
condition of the negro population, the
refugees and others who had gathered

ormsby Mcknight mitchel.

365

around his headquarters at Port Royal,
and at the adjacent islands. With his
accustomed enthusiasm, he spared no
pains of word or deed to arouse their
energies and'fit them for the new career
before them. After addressing a large
assembly of the hitherto despised race,
at the opening of a church built for
their use, he wrote to Secretary Chase
at Washington : " I have spoken to the
elite of Boston, the solid, and the scien
tific, and the literary men of that
learned city ; I have spoken to the
fashionable crowds of New York;' in
the Academy of Music ; I have spoken
to the rich and proud citizens of New
Orleans ; I have spoken to multitudes
in almost every State in the Union, but
I do not think I ever addressed any
audience whose presence touched me
more deeply than the sable multitude
to wrhoin I endeavored to utter words
of encouragement and hope yesterday."
Such was the spirit of General Mitchel
in whatever his hand found to do.
A fortnight after this was Avritten, be
fore the new general had opportunity —
beyond several reconnoisances which he
ordered — to test the military spirit of
his department, he was suddenly cut off
in the midst of his labors. General
Mitchel died after a brief illness of yel
low fever, at Beaufort, on the thirtieth
of October. His remains were brought
to New. York, and after simple services
at the Church of the Pilgrims, in Brook
lyn, with no display, military or civic,
were interred in the neighboring Green
wood Cemeteiy.
The moral and intellectual traits, the
personal charactei of General Mitchel,
ii.— 46

have been Avell described by a shrewd
and cultivated observer, the Rev. Henry
Norman Hudson, an army chaplain at
Hilton Head, who joyfully greeted his
arrival in the Southern Department.
" In person he is rather spare, in stature
rather short; with a head capacious,
finely shaped and firmly set, an attrac
tive and beaming countenance, every
feature and every motion full of intelli
gence and animation. Therewithal, he
is a man of keen discernment and large
discourse; swift-thoughted, fluent, and
eloquent of speech, free and genial in
his dispositions, quick and firm of pur
pose, of clear and intense perceptions,
and sound and steady judgment. All
who have met him in the lecture-room
must have admired the enthusiasm and
whole-souledness of the man in what
ever he does or says. Yet a strong
force of judiciousness goes hand-in-hand
with his enthusiasm. He is indeed
brilliant, but not flashing; his bril
liancy is that of a solid,, not of a sur
face. Whether discoursing the har
mony of the stars, or the cause of his
betrayed and bleeding country, he is
still the same embodiment of energy
and eloquence, with a remarkable
power of tickling his hearers, and flash
ing his energy through them. In brief,
his mind abounds in sinew and grip,
and his spirit is brim-full of what we
call snap; the two together making
him bold and strong in conception,
rapid and fiery in execution. As a
military commander he has, perhaps,
more of ihefelicitas audax in his com
position than any other of our generals
now in the field."

JOHN E. WOOL.

Major-General John E. Wool is a
native of the State of New York. He
was born at Newburgh, Orange County,
about the year 1784, of a family which
had been distinguished for its services
in the War of the Revolution. Five
of the sons of his grandfather, James
Wool, a respectable farmer of Rensse
laer County, bore arms in that strug
gle. Two were captured at Fort Wash
ington, and experienced the tender
mercies of the New Jersey Prison ship ;
one became ¦ a captain in Lamb's regi
ment of artillery, and was with Mont
gomery at Quebec ; a fourth was with
Stark at Bennington; the fifth, the
father of Major-General Wool Avas with
"Mad Antony" at the storming of
Storiey Point — a respectable military
lineage for an American soldier of the
nineteenth century. Young Wool, we
are told, had barely completed his
fourth year when his father died. He
was then taken to his grandfather's
farmer's home, and had such advan
tages of education as a country school
afforded. They were of course limited
and of no long continuance, for at the
age of twelve the boy was placed in a
merchant's store in Troy, where he con
tinued till eighteen, when he opened a
book and stationary store on his own
account Driven from this by a fire
866

which consumed his stock, he took re
fuge in the law and pursued the study
for more than a year with avidity, in
the office of John RusseE, an eminent
practitioner of Troy
The perseverance and energy which
he has since displayed on other fields
would, no doubt, have crowned his
labors in the profession with success,
had he not been directed to an entirely
different mode of life by an opening in
public affairs which controlled so many
of the spirited young men of his gene
ration. The second war with Great
Britain was about to be declared, and
¦new levies of volunteers were. called
into the field. The army suddenly
offered honorable means of support fas
cinating to the youthful mind. The
traditions of arms were recent in the
family of young Wool, and he natu
rally sought a commission. In the
spring of 1812, on the eve of the decla
ration of War, with the recommenda
tion of Governor Clinton, he received his
appointment as captain in the Thir
teenth regiment of United States In
fantry. He immediately set to work
recruiting his company, joined his regi
ment at Greenbush, and in September,
proceeded with the regiment to the
Niagara frontier. He was in time for
General Van Rensselaer's famous at-

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JOHN E. WOOL.

367

tempt upon the heights of Queens-
town. In the arrangement of that assault
it was designed that the force first
crossing- the river should consist of
equal parties of regulars and militia.
Colonel Chrystie, in whose ranks* Cap
tain. Wool was stationed, commanding
the former and Lieutenant-Colonel Van
Rensselaer the latter. The boats were
arranged on the morning of the thir
teenth of October for this simultaneous
movement. The force ready to cross
consisted of about three hundred men
of each division. Owing to an insuffi
cient supply of boats, it was impossible
at .once to transport both parties, and
in the haste and confusion the regulars
were naturally the first to gain the ad
vantage. The thirteen boats which set
out were mostly filled by the soldiers
of the Thirteenth regiment. Ten of
them landed in safety, three miscarried,
and in one of the latter was Lieutenant
Colonel Chrystie. This accident threw
the command of the regulars into the
hands of Captain John E. Wool. Upon
his energy the first success of the day,
so disastrous in its issue, was to de
pend. The British defences at Queenstown
at the opening of the attack consisted
of a battery on the heights, manned by
two companies of the Forty-ninth, with
another battery below on the river.
The former were speedily reinforced,
and a destructive fire from the whole
body was thrown upon the advancing
columns of the Americans. It was
Van Rensselaer's intention .to storm the
heights, and for this purpose Wool's
command Avas moA'ed forward to the

base of the hill. While in line, wait
ing further orders, an attack was made
upon this party by the British which
inflicted serious losses in its ranks. Six
out of ten officers of Wool's command
were killed or wounded. He himself
was among the latter, being shot
through both thighs ; yet in this con
dition he led one of the boldest move
ments of the day. Van Rensselaer was
also seriously wounded. Though the
enemy were repulsed in this conflict, a
retreat of the Americans seemed in
evitable, when Wool, doubly wounded
as he was, undertook to scale the
heights and storm the defences. He
was gallantly seconded by his officers.
Choosing a somewhat sheltered posi
tion under a precipice, the ascent was
commenced, the men now lifting- them
selves by the bushes, noAV supporting
themselves by their muskets, till a
neglected fisherman's path was struck,
which aided the -movement. The sum
mit was thus gained without the
loss of a man. The small force at
the works was taken by surprise, and
compelled precipitately to retreat. The
American colors were raised, * greeting
the rising sun, proclaiming at once the
triumph of the Thirteenth regiment and
the success of the expedition." 1
In the retreating party was General
Sir Isaac Brock, the British Commander-
in-chief on this frontier, who, having
the line from the mouth of the Niagara
river to guard, had hastened on the first
alarm, from his quarters at Fort George,
to reconnoitre the American movement

1 Mr. Dawson's Buttles of the United States, II. 158.
Mr. Dawson writes with the aid of original memoranda of
the battle by General Wool.

368

JOHN E. WOOL.

Ordering his troops in reserve to ad
vance to the scene of the invasion, he
now put himself at the head of the de
tachment on the spot, and moved to
wards the force of Captain Wool, who
held a position in the rear of the bat
tery above the village. The Ameri
cans, unable to sustain themselves
against superior numbers, were driven
to the high bank of the river, when
one of the officers raised a white hand
kerchief in sign of surrender. Captain
Wool, with his own hands, removed
the signal, exhorting his men to resist
to the last, and not to yield without
a final resort to the bayonet. When
their ammunition was nearly exhausted
the charge was made, resulting in a
partial repulse of the enemy. Gen
eral Brock being now reinforced was
leading On his troops to a fresh at
tack when he fell mortally wounded
by a musket ball. This event inspired
his command with fresh vigor in the
desire for revenge, but their effort
was unavailing against the determined
opposition of Captain Wool and his
unflinching band. He remained mas
ter of the position, ten prisoners and a
captured Indian chief being among the
proofs of the victory. This was the
condition of the valiant handful of
Americans at two o'clock in the day,
when, reinforcements having added to
their numbers, Lieutenant-Colonel Win-
field Scott crossed the river to take
the command, and experience his share
of the fortunes of the day. Captain
Wool then retired to pay much
needed attention to his neglected
wounds. For this service Captain Wool was

created Major, his commission bearing.
date the day of the battle of Queens-
town, October 13, 1812. He Avas at
tached to the Twenty-ninth regiment
of infantry, and continued to" be em-
ployed in the defence of the frontier.
On the invasion by the British on the
line of Lake Champlain, in September
1814, he rendered important assistance
to General Macomb in the military
movement at Plattsburgh and its vicin
ity. On the first advance of the enemy
he was sent by General Macomb with
a small force of two hundred and fifty
men to strengthen the militia, seven
hundred in number, stationed on the
upper road at the village of Beekman-
town. The approaching British column
was composed of thousands of veteran
troops. There could, of course, under
such circumstances, be nothing more
than a dignified retreat. That it was
a well-conducted retreat, repulsing at
one moment the head of the enemy's
column and retarding the movement
at various points, was due to the energy
of Major Wool, who, with his regulars,
rallied the militiamen to the work, and
availed himself of every means of re
sistance in his path. General Macomb
in his despatch called the attention of
the Government to this heroic incident
of the day, and Major Wool was, in ac-
knoAvledgment of his bravery, brevetted
Lieutenant-Colonel. In 1816 Colonel Wool was made an
army inspector, the office being en
larged in 1821 to that of inspector-
general. The duties of this office em-
brace an examination of the entire
routine and morale of the army at -its
different posts, the efficiency of officers

JOHN E. WOOL.

369

and men, the condition and economical
management of all the material of war.
The inspector is to exercise a general
supervision of all these matters, and be
prepared with special reports to the
government on the state of the service
when information may be needed. The
performance of these home duties was
varied by a visit of General Wool to
Europe in 1832, for the purpose of ac
quiring an intimate knowledge of the
foreign discipline and tactics, and im
provements in the art of war. His
reception by Louis Philippe, then on
the French throne, and by the King of
Belgium, was cordial, and opened to
him every facility in pursuing his mili
tary investigations. He witnessed a
grand review by the side of the King
of the French of seventy thousand men,
and Avas present with the King of Bel
gium, at a still larger review of one
hundred thousand. He also witnessed
the proceedings at the famous siege of
Antwerp. In 1836 he was employed in the re
moval of the Cherokee Indians to their
neAV home in Arkansas, a duty which
required both delicacy and firmness.
In. 1838 we find him engaged in a mili
tary reconnoisance in Maine, on occasion
of the boundary dispute with Great
Britain. In 1841 he was commissioned
Brigadier-General in the line, having
held the rank Of Brevet Brigadier-Ge-^
neral since 1826. The Mexican War,
of course, called him into the field.
He was early summoned to Washing
ton by the government, on the actual
outbreak of hostilities, in 1845, and be
came engaged in concentrating the
troops at the Eastward for a movement

to the seat of hostilities. The next
year in May, he was ordered by the
department to proceed to Ohio, and or
ganize and muster into service a large
force of volunteers from that State,
Kentucky, Indiana, Blinois, and Missis
sippi. He received his instructions on
the thirtieth of May; on the fifth of
the next month he was in the midst of
his duties at Columbus, holding corres
pondence with the governors of the
States from which his force was to be
drawn, and with the subordinate mili
tary officers who stood between him
and the recruits. Such was his effi
ciency that in six weeks, by July llth,
he had organized a body of twelve
thousand men. This duty accomplished.
he was ordered to San Antonio in
Texas, where, having concentrated his
troops, he was to take command of an
expedition planned against the Mexican
province of Chihuahua. Leaving Alton,
Illinois, on the fifteenth of July, the
twenty-sixth found him at New Orleans,
the first of August saw him landing his
troops at Lavacca, Texas, and the four
teenth witnessed his arrival at the
place of rendezvous, San Antonio., It
was the intention to deal a blow
at the enemy by revolutionizing one
of his important northern provinces,
supposed to be of great value to the
capital. The expedition, however, might
have proved of little value in this
respect, had it been carried out as an
ticipated, but it was found to be im
practicable, and was abandoned. Ge
neral Wool accomplished, in little more
than a month, between the 26th Sep
tember and 29th of October, a march of
six hundred miles to Monclova, with a

870

JOHN E. WOOL.

force of about six hundred regulars and
twenty-three hundred volunteers, in
cluding Colonel Harney's companies of
Dragoons, Captain Washington's com
pany of Artillery, Captain Bonneville's
tAVO companies of U. S. Infantry, a re
giment of Arkansas Cavalry under Col
onel Yell, Colonel Hardin's two regi
ments of Blinois Infantry, and Captain
Williams' single company of Kentucky
Cavalry. It was the period of repose,
after the victory at Monterey, one of the
interludes in this singular war which
was encouraged and protracted by the
vain negotiations for peace, and empty
reliance upon the friendship and power
of Santa Anna. General Worth, from
his resting-place, fully impressed with
the difficulties of the undertaking, saw
that the northern expedition which had
been projected for him beyond the
mountains, even were it successfully
accomplished, would be fruitless of re
sults. He therefore advised General
Taylor to make a better disposition of
the troops, by uniting them with his
own force in a position where they
could make head against General Santa
Anna, who was concentrating his forces
at San Luis de Potosi.
The wisdom of this counsel was evi
dent, and the proper discretion having
been reposed in General Taylor by the
War Department, he Avithdrew General
Wool's command from its route to Chi
huahua, and stationed it in the neigh
borhood of his own operations at
Parras. At this town General Wool
governed with the same discretion
which he had shown at Monclova, and
such, we are told, was the excellence
of his management, and the conduct of

his force, that upon his being summoned
to the aid of General Worth, a hundred
miles distant, at Saltillo, " only fourteen
of his men were too sick to march, and
the ladies of Parras contended for the
privilege of nursing them,"1 This
friendly reception of the American
troops by the people on the frontier, is
a feature of the war highly creditable to
the officers employed and the spirit of
the men whom they commanded. It is
proof alike of their energy and their for
bearance. An ill regulated force never
would have challenged respect ; an in
humane one never could have ob
tained it.
On the twenty-first of December,
General Wool was at Agua Nueva, nine
hundred miles distant from his place
of disembarkation at Port Lavacca, in
Texas, in communication with Generals
Butler and Worth, who were watching
the movements of Santa Anna. At
this crisis a large portion of the troops
of General Taylor, including the com
mand of General Worth, were with
drawn by General Scott for his opera
tions against the City of Mexico, by the
line of Vera Cruz, and the plan of ope
rations of the battle having fallen into
the hands of Santa Anna, by an inter
cepted despatch, it was "thought by
some that the Mexican General, leaving
behind him the diminished force on the
Rio Grande, would turn his attention
to the new scene of the war. He de
termined, on the contrary, however,
first to strike a blow at the little army
of General Taylor, who, with character
istic hardihood, resolved to meet him
1 Biography of General Wool in the Democratic Ke
viow. Nov. 1851.

JOHN E. WOOL.

371

in the field. The result is told in the
battle of Buena Vista.
This engagement commenced on the
twenty-second of February, 1847. The
spot chosen to make a stand against
the advancing army of Santa Anna at
the pass of Angostura, was admirably
chosen for defence, and had been first
pointed out as an advantageous battle
ground by General Wool, when he
passed by it, in one of the movements
of his troops on his arrival in the re
gion tAVo -months before. To him now
fell the first disposition of the troops
on the field as the enemy advanced.
General Taylor conducting a portion
of his command to Saltillo, a few miles
in advance, left the command of the
rear and the preparations for the de
fence to General Wool. He had three
thousand men under his orders, nearly
three-fourths of the entire army, which
had but four hundred and seventy-six
regulars in all. His first act was to
take possession of the road at the cen
tre of the pass, by throwing up para
pets, and stationing there the battery
of Captain Washington, supported by
an excellent disposition of the several
companies on the right and left, and in
the rear. The ground was naturally de
fended on one side by the mountain, on
the other by deeply- worn channels or fis
sures, and ravines in front. These dispo
sitions Avere all made by General Wool
early on the morning of the twenty-
second, before General Taylor, who had
passed the night at Saltillo, came up
with Bragg's and Sherman's batteries
from that place. At eleven o'clock,
Santa Anna summoned the little force to
surrender t< his tAventy thousand men, a

proposition which General Taylor " de
clined acceding to," and the day was
spent in movements preliminary to the
encounter. General Taylor again passed
the night at Saltillo, looking after its
defences ; and, before he returned the
next morning, the battle had begun,
General Wool being again in command
on the field. The attack was made
with great vigor by Santa Anna, who
sent forward his force in three divi
sions. It is not necessary here to re
count the varying fortunes of the day.
In the conduct of the engagement, as
well after the arrival of General Taylor
as before, no less than in the effective
arrangements at the outset, General
Wool was one of the master-spirits of
the day, fully sharing the honors with
the Commander-in-chief.
Again the government was called upon
to reward his services by promotion
earned in the field. As before, Queens-
town and Plattsburgh, so now Buena
Vista yielded its honors. For "gal
lant and distinguished conduct " that
day Brigadier-General Wool was bre
vetted Major-General. He continued in
command at Saltillo, until General Tay
lor left for the United States in No
vember, when he succeeded to the
entire command on the Rio Grande,
which he held till the war was ended.
Returning homeward by the way of
New Orleans, Cincinnati, and Wash
ington, in August, 1848, he reached his
residence at Troy, New York, where an
enthusiastic welcome awaited him.
In 1854 General Wool was called
from his residence at Troy, the head
quarters of his military department of
the East, to the government of the de-

372

JOHN E. WOOL.

partment of the Pacific, at a time when
the peace of the country was threatened
by " fillibuster " movements in that re
gion. After accomplishing the object
of his mission in this respect, he was
called to Oregon, where his efforts were
successfully directed to quelling a for
midable outbreak of the Indians. At
the end of three years General Wool
returned home, to be again called into
active service on the outbreak of the
great Rebellion. When that disastrous
event occurred he was one of the fore
most to rouse the spirit of the nation
by speech and pen, to a sense of the
new duties imposed upon it. In the
State of New York he was at once em
ployed in the organization of troops for
the field, and in August, 1861, was
called to the important command of
the South-Eastern District of Virginia,
with his head-quarters at Fortress
Monroe. His command in this region
was signalized in May, 1862, by the
success of an expedition which he led
in -person, to the capture of Norfolk.
When General McClellan was placed
in command of the entire force of the
district, General Wool was assigned
the Department of Maryland, with his

head-quarters at Baltimore. A few
days after he received the surrender of
Norfolk, his nomination as Major-Gene
ral of the United States Army was con
firmed by. the Senate, he having pre
viously to this time held the rank of
Brigadier-General and Major-General by
brevet. After some months passed at
Baltimore, in the important duties of
his command, he retired to assume a
new appointment, in the superintend
ence of the Eastern Department. ,Re-
lieved from active service in 1864, the
remainder of his long life was passed
at his home at Troy New York, where,
at the age of eighty-six, he died on the
10th of November, 1869.
In addition to his military duties,
General Wool was known to the public
as a prominent member of the De
mocratic party. In 1850 he delivered
the address at Weybridge, Vermont,
on occasion of the completion of a mo
nument to Silas Wright. His pen also
was ofter employed in compositions of
public interest, in reply to various in
vitations of philanthropical and other
societies, and in the discussion of po
litical affairs.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

Abraham Lincoln was born Feb
ruary 12th, 1809, in a district of Har
din County, now included in Lraue
County, Kentucky. His father and
grandfather, sprung froni a Quaker
faniily in Pennsylvania, were born in
Rockingham County, Virginia. Thence
the grandfather, Abraham Lincoln, re
moved to Kentucky, where,' encounter
ing the fortunes. of the first settlers, he
was slain by the Indians, about the
year 1784. His third and youngest son,
Thomas, brought up to a life of rude
country industry, in 1806 married Nancy
Hanks, of Kentucky, a native of Virgin
ia, so that the blood of Abraham Lin
coln is directly traceable to the. Old Do
minion — the mother of Presidents.
The parents, it is said, partly on
account of slavery, partly on account
of the disputed Kentucky land titles,
removed to a new forest home, in what
is now Spencer County, Indiana, when
their son Abraham was in his eighth
year. The task before the settlers was
the clearing of the farm in the wilder
ness; and in this labor and its inci
dents of hunting and agricultural toils
the rugged boy grew up to manhood,
receiving such elementary instruction
as the occasional schoolmasters of the
region afforded. Taken altogether, it
was very little — for the time which he
H.--4?

atterided schools of any kind, was in
the whole less than a year. His know
ledge from books was to be worked out
solely by himself; the vigorous life
around him and rough experience were
to teach him the rest. His first adven
ture in the world was at the age Of
nineteen,, when hired as an assistant to
a son of the owner, the two, without
other aid, navigated a flat boat to New
Orleans, trading by the way — an ex
cursion on which more might be learnt
of human nature than in a year at col
lege. At twenty-one, he followed his
father, who had now married a second
time, to a new settlement in Macon
County, Illinois, where a log cabin was
built by the family, and the land fenced
in by rails, vigorously and abundantly
split by the stalwart Abraham.
The rail-splitter of Blinois was yet to
be summoned to a fiercer conflict. To
build a flatrboat was no great change
of occupation for one so familiar with
the axe. He was engaged in this work
on the Sangamon River, and in taking
the craft afterward to New Orleans,
serving on his return as clerk in charge
of a store and mill at New Salem, be
longing to his employer. The breaking
out of the Black-Hawk War in Illinois,
1832, gave him new and more

m

spirited occupation. He joined a vo-

£73

374

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

lunteer company, was elected captain,
served through a three months' cam
paign, and was in due time rewarded
by his share of -bounty lands in Iowa.
A popular man in his neighborhood,
doubtless from his energy, sagacity,
humor, and innate benevolence of dis
position, admirably qualifying him as a
representative of the West, or of human
nature in its better condition anywhere,
he was, on return from the war, set up
as a Whig candidate for the Legisla
ture, in which he was beaten in the
district, though his own precinet, demo
cratic as it too was, gave him 277 out
of 284 votes. Unsettled, and on the
lookout for occupation in the world, he
now again fell in charge of a country
store at New Salem, over the counter
of Avhich he gained knowledge of men,
but little pecuniary profit. The store,
in fact, was a failure, but the man was
not. He had doubtless chopped logic,
as heretofore timber, with his neigh
bors, and democrats had felt the edge
of his argument. Some confidence of
this nature led him to think of the laAV
as a profession. Working out his prob
lem of self-education, he would borrow
a few books from a lawyer of the vil-
lage in the evening, read them at
night, and return them in the morning.
A turn at official surveying in the
county meanwhile, by its emoluments,
assisted him to live. In 1834, he was
elected, by a large vote to the Legisla
ture, and again in 1836, '38, and '40.
In 1836, he was admitted to the bar,
and the following year commenced
practice at Springfield, with his fellow-
representative in the Legislature, Major
John F. Stuart. He rapidly acquired

a reputation by his success in jury
trials, in which he cleared up difficul
ties with a sagacious, ready humor, and
a large and groAving stock of apposite
familiar illustrations. Politics and the
bar, as usual in the West, in his case
also went together; a staunch sup
porter of Whig principles in the midst
of the democracy, he canvassed the
State for Henry Clay in 1844, making
numerous speeches of signal ability,
and in 1846, was elected to Congress
from the central district of Hlinois.
During his term he was distinguished
by his advocacy of free soil principles,
voting in favor of the right ofjpetition,
and steadily supporting the Wilmot
proviso prohibiting slavery in the neAV
territories. He also proposed a plan
of compensated emancipation, with the
consent of a majority of the owners, for
the District of Columbia. A member
of the Whig National Convention - of
1848, he supported the nomination of
General Taylor for the Presidency, in
an active canvass of Blinois and In
diana. In 1856, he was recommended
by the Illinois delegation as a candidate
for the Vice Presidency," on the Repub
lican ticket with Colonel Fremont. In
1858, he was nominated as candidate
for United States Senator in opposition
to Stephen A. Douglas, and " took the
stump" in joint debate with that pow
erful antagonist of the Democratic
party. The election ended in the choice
of a Legislature which sent Mr. Douglas
to the Senate, though the Republican
candidates pledged to Mr. Lincoln re
ceived a larger aggregate vote. In the
ensuing nomination in 1860, for the Pre
sidency, by the convention at Chicago

ri

ABKAHAM LINCOLN.

375

Mr. Lincoln, on the third ballot was
preferred to Mr. Seward by a decided
vote, and placed before the country as
the candidate of the Republican free-soil
party. He had three rivals in the
field, Breckinridge, representing the
old Southern pro-slavery Democratic
party ; Douglas, its new " popular so
vereignty" modification ; Bell, a respec
table, cautious conservatism. In the
election, of the entire popular vote,
4,662,170, Mr. Lincoln received 1,857-
610 ; Mr. Douglas, 1,365,976 ; Mr.
Breckinridge, 847,953 ; and Mr. Bell,
590,631. EA-ery free State except New
Jersey, where the vote was divided,
voted for Mr. Lincoln, giving him seAren-
teen out of the thirty-three States which
then composed the Union. In nine of
the slave states, besides South Carolina,
he had no electoral ticket. Alabama,
ArkansaSj Delaware, Florida, Georgia,
Louisiana, Maryland, Mississippi, North
and South Carolina, Texas, cast their
votes for Breckinridge and Lane, 72 ;
for Bell arid Everett, 39 ; for Douglas
and Johnson, 12.
In the following February, Mr. Lincoln
left his home at Springfield, by a circui
tous route, through the Northern States
for Washington; when in consequence
of a reported conspiracy to interrupt his
progress, it was thought necessary to
hasten his journey to the capital by
night, to secure his safety. It was also
expected that some opposition would be
made to his inauguration ; but the ce

remony passed off quietly, and the new ¦
President entered on that straggle of
the loyal States with the great rebellion,
the settlement and conclusion of which
were to determine his place in history.
The story of the conduct of that war
through four years of unexampled sacri
fices by the people, of unprecedented
development of the national strength
and resources, transcends the limits of a
brief biographic sketch. Suffice it to.
say, that in patient sagacity and magna
nimity President Lincoln stood forth the
accepted representative and guardian of
the people, who, in the recurring election
of 1864, again returned him to office by
an overwhelming majority of the elec
toral vote. As the end for which he
had so faithfully labored Avas gained ?m
the assured safety of the Union — when
the long protracted war was virtually
terminated — he was on the evening of
the 14th of April, the anniversary of
the attack on Sumter, the opening
scene of the Avar, suddenly stricken
down by the pistol-shot of a cowardly
assassin as he was witnessing a theatri
cal performance at Washington, an unex
ampled act of wanton desperation and
malignity, which was regarded with de
testation and horror by the civilized
world. He survived the murderous as
sault in a state of insensibility but a
few hours, dying early on the morning
of the 15th, leaving to his countrymen
a name doubly endeared by his virtues
and his martyrdom.

WIN FIELD SCOTT.

Winfield Scott Avas born near Peters
burg, Virginia, June 13, 1786, of a family
originally derived from the Lowlands
of Scotland. His grandfather, involved
in' the disturbances of the times, be
came a refugee to America after the
battle of Culloden. He settled in Vir
ginia, and began the practice of the
law. His son, a farmer, married Ann
Mason, of one of the most respectable
families of the State. They were the
parents of Winfield Scott. The loss
of his father when he was but four
years old, and of his mother at seven
teen, threw the youth upon the world
to Avork out his own fortunes. His
early education in the high school at
Richmond introduced him to the law
lectures delivered at William and Mary
College. He had chosen for himself
the law as a profession, and following
up the study in the office of David
Robertson, was admitted to the bar in
1806 ; engaged in practice in, his native
county, and profited by residence and
intimacy with Mr. Benjamin Watkins
Leigh, eminent in the councils of the
State. In 1807 the young practitioner
turned his attention to South Carolina,
with the view of pursuing his profes
sion at Charleston, but failing to se
cure from the Legislature of that State,
the privilege of exemption from the

m

year's previous residence required in
such cases, he abandoned his intention.
There was metal more attractive for
the young man in the stirring notes of
war which sounded over the country.
It was the period of British aggression
upon the neutral rights of American
commerce, aggravated by her insulting
claims of search, brought to an open
act of defiance in the attack upon the
Chesapeake. The young blood of the
country was stirred by the outrage.
The rising tide of indignation created
soldiers,, orators, and statesmen. A
new race of our public men in the Sen
ate, and the field, and on the ocean,
date from that era. It sent Clay, Cal
houn, and others of fame to Congress.
and stirred the prompt indignation of
Jackson, thirsting for Avar, in the west
ern wilderness. Winfield Scott was
peculiarly its growth. He had volun
teered, before his visit to Charleston,
as a member of a Petersburg* troop of
horse, as a guardian of the coast, in the
measures taken after the Chesapeake
affair, and when the patiently endured
aggressions slowly ripened into the
warlike proceedings of the following
year, 1808, he received from the go
vernment the., appointment of Captain
of Light Artillery. In this capacity
he was stationed the next year under

WINFIELD SCOTT.

377

the command of General Wilkinson, at
New Orleans, of whom he entertained
a great distrust. On one occasion,
sometime in December, 1809, he com
mitted the imprudence of expressing
his opinion at a public table in Wash
ington, in the territory of Mississippi.
Wilkinson called his subordinate to
account in a court martial, and Scott
was accordingly tried for the assertion
" that he never saw but two traitors,
General Wilkinson and Burr, and that
General Wilkinson was a Har and a
scoundrel." For this, Captain Scott
was sentenced to a year's suspension
from rank, pay, and emoluments.
This enforced leisure gave the young
captain the opportunity of perfecting
himself in various military studies,
which he sedubusly pursued at the
house of his friend, Mr. Leigh, in Vir
ginia. The government was very de
liberate in entering on the impending
war, so that nothing was lost in the
way of any important occupation in
the field. In the spring of 1812, we
find him bringing his legal acquisitions
to bear in the service of his new pro
fession, as Judge Advocate in the trial
of Colonel Cushing, of which he pub
lished a report. "His able manage
ment of this interesting case, and his
eloquent and well-argued replication to
the prisoner's defence," says a compe
tent authority, " afford honorable proof
of his legal acquirements and talents." *
At length, in the summer of 1812,
war was actually declared, and Captain
Scott, promoted to the rank of lieute-

1 Biographical Sketch of General Scott, by Gulian C.
Verplanck, in the Analectic Magazine for December, 1-814.

nant-colonel in the second regiment of
artillery, was ordered to the frontier,
and took his station at Black Rock, on
the Niagara River, protecting the navy-
yard at that spot. He had not been
long at this post when he was called
upon to render assistance to Captain
Elliott, afterward the commodore, in
the affair of cutting out the Detroit
and Caledonia from beneath the guns
of Fort Erie. Scott's aid was given
with spirit in saving the larger of the
vessels from recapture. He had pre
sently an opportunity of taking the
command in a more appropriate mili
tary engagement on land. The service
was one of equal, if not greater cour
age and resolution, and though the
issue was unsuccessful, his gallantry
and resources in the field were not the
less demonstrated, and he had the rare
felicity of being honored in defeat.
The battle of Queenstown, on the Ni
agara River, has been happily character
ized by the latest historian of these
events, as " a series of engagements in
which were blended the most, perfect
plans of operations and the most incom
plete arrangements for their execution,
the most undaunted courage and the
most flagrant cowardice, the most trium
phant success and the most disastrous
defeat." 8 The most important position
on the British frontier of Niagara Ri
ver, below the Falls, was Queenstown.
It was defended by a fort on the
heights, and was in ready communica
tion with the adjacent post of Fort
George, at the mouth of the river.
Opposite these positions respectively

" Dawson's Battles of ihe United States, II, 160

378

WINFIELD SCOTT.

on the American side were LewistoAvn
and Fort Niagara. At the former, a
considerable body of militia, over two
thousand, were assembled; while, at
Black Rock and Niagara a still larger
number of regulars were stationed.
The force was sufficient, if fairly got
into the field, to meet the smaller num
ber of the enemy, which had the ad
vantage of position on the opposite
shore. The attempt, hoAvever,, to con
quer their works required the most
skillful dispositions and unflinching
courage on the part of the assailants.
The arrangements for the attack, and
the direction of the entire American
force on the occasion were entrusted to
Major-General Stephen Van Rensse
laer, of the New York State Militia.
Opposed to him on the British side
was the vigilant and estimable Gene
ral Sir Isaac Brock, a leader of dis
tinguished ability. Means of trans
port were provided, and an attack
planned for the night of the llth of
October, 1812, but owing to an unpar
donable mismanagement of the boats,
it was postponed, to be resumed, with
better precautions, in the darkness of
the following morning. Detachments
of regulars had been summoned from
Fort Niagara and Black Rock, and a
newly enlisted force of three hundred
and fifty regulars, commanded by Lieu
tenant-Colonel Chrystie, arrived, anxi
ous to take part in the action. It was
arranged that two parties, of three
hundred men each, severally of regu
lars and militia, should first cross before
daylight, and take possession of the
fort at Queenstown, and be followed
by others- of the command on the re

turn of the boats. One of these par
ties was to be led by Lieutenant- Colo
nel Chrystie, the other by Lieutenant-
Colonel Solomon Van Rensselaer, the
cousin and aid of the New York major-
general. The latter was to conduct
the movement on the British side. It
was intended that an equal number of
both divisions should join in the first
passage of the river, but there was
some confusion in the embarcation,
which consisted almost entirely of re
gulars. Lieutenant-Colonel Chrystie
did not succeed in crossing, but his
command was gallantly led by his
senior captain, John E. Wool, who
succeeded, spite of serious wounds, in
leading his men to the capture of the
fort. Lieutenant-Colonel Van Rensse
laer was wounded in several places
shortly after landing, and was conse
quently unable to keep the field.
During this early part of the engage
ment, Colonel Scott, who had arrived
in the night from Niagara Falls, was
posted with his artillery on the heights
of Lewiston, protecting the landing and
assailing the enemy's works with his
fire. General Brock, meanwhile, was
hastening, on the first summons of the
combat, from his quarters at Fort
George. He came up in time to wit
ness the Americans in possession of the
fort, and after an unsuccessful attempt
to drive them from their position, was
rallying on a fresh body of his forces
to the encounter when he fell, mortally
Wounded, at their head. Thus closed
the great first act of the day at about
eight o'clock in the forenoon.
The arrival at this moment of Colo
nel Scott marks the second act of the

WINFIELD SCOTT.

379

engagement. He was ordered across
the river to assume the entire command,
which now consisted of some three hun
dred and fifty regulars and two hun-
dred and fifty militia. He had hardly,
assisted by the skill of Captain Totten,
arranged these in a defensive position,
when he was attacked by a body of
Mohawk warriors enlisted in- the en
emy's service. This was repulsed, as
was also another attack of the British
troops, when their main body, eight
hundred and fifty in number, came up
from Fort George, under conimand of
General Sheaffe. It was an anxious
moment for the young American officer,
vainly . expecting reinforcements from
his countrymen on 4he other side. He
resolved to face the enemy while re
sistance was possible. Addressing his
men, he reminded them that they were
in a position at the beginning of a na
tional war, where their country de
manded a sacrifice, to redeem the igno
minious surrender of Hull. "Let us
die " he said, " arms in hand ;" and all
responded to the appeal. The British,
thinking this small force but an out
post, approached cautiously, and as
they closed in, the Americans for a
time withstood their superior attack.
It could not be long resisted. Their
ranks were broken, and the gallant
band escaped for the moment "by the
precipice to the banks of the river,
where boats should have _been pro
vided for their rescue. There were
none, and nothing was left but capitu
lation. But even this last resource was
environed with difficulties. Several
messengers bearing the appropriate sig
nal, were lost in the hostile bands of

Indians who beset their path. "At
length, Scott determined that he him
self would make another attempt. He
prepared a flag of truce — a white hand
kerchief fastened upon his sword — and
accompanied by Captains Totten and
GibsOn, went forth on a forlorn hope
to seek a parley. Keeping close to the
water's edge, arid under cover of the
precipice as much as possible, they de
scended along the river. They were
exposed to a continual random fire
from the Indians, until they turned up
an easy slope to gain the road from the
village to the heights. They had just
attained this road, when they were met
by two Indians, who sprang upon them.
It was in vain that Scott declared his
purpose, and claimed the protection of
his flag. They attempted to wrench it
from his hands, and at the same instant
Totten and Gibson drew their swords.
The Indians had just discharged theii
rifles at the American officers, and were
on the point of using their knives and
hatchets, when a British officer, accom
panied by some men, rushed forward
and prevented a further combat." " The
American officers surrendered to Gene
ral Sheaffe ; terms of capitulation were
entered upon, and ScOtt surrendered
his force of two hundred and ninety-
three men, with all the honors of war.
If aught could redeem the disgraceful
absence of the militia on that day, it
was the gallantry of Colonel Scott and
his brother officers and their little
band of patriots.
From Niagara Colonel Scott was
taken a prisoner to Quebec, whence he
1 Mansfield's Scott, p. 44.

380

WINFIELD SCOTT.

was presently sent in a cartel to Boston,
where his exchange was effected in
January, 1813. His release brought
him again to the scene of his former
exertions on the Niagara frontier. He
joined the army of General Dearborn,
shortly after the brilliant affair at
York, -memorable as well for the fall
of General Pike, as for the victory
achieved, with the rank of Adjutant-
General, reserving, at the same time lis
right to command his regiment when
the opportunity should arise for ser
vice. The occasion soon presented
itself in the attack upon Fort George,
on the morning of the 27th May.
In this affair Colonel Scott had the
post of honor, leading "the advanced
guard, or first division of boats
which effected a landing. He was
seconded in this movement by his
friend Captain Perry, attached to Com
modore Chauncey's marine command.
The landing was accomplished under
fire of the enemy — a service sufficient
to test the courage and resources of the
future hero of Lake Erie. Scott formed
his line on the beach, Avith the enemy
above him on the bank, fifteen hundred
strong. Immediately ascending, his
men thrust aside the bayonets of the
foe, and followed up their first onset so
spiritedly that, after an action of some
twenty minutes, the enemy were flying
before them. The fort, no longer
tenable, was abandoned, and one of its
magazines fired. Scott was struck by
a piece of timber from the explosion,
but, eager to preserve the work, dashed
on and was the first to enter the en-
closure capturing with his own hands
the enemy's flag which had been left

flying. He then pushed on the pur
suit till he was recalled. There was
some satisfaction in being victorious on
the scene where he had recently sur
rendered himself a prisoner.
Colonel Scott remained with the
army at Fort George, engaged in va
rious minor military duties till the ex
pedition of General Wilkinson, medi
tating the capture of Montreal, was set
on foot in the autumn, when, leaving
the command of the fort, he joined that
officer on the- St. Lawrence. His duties
led him into positions of danger and
responsibility on the river, but the ex
traordinary management of the cam
paign by his superiors allowed him no
opportunity of great distinction. The
public was again to be disappointed
with the-conduct of affairs on the fron
tier. Scott, patiently biding his time,
made preparation during the winter
at Albany, for the work of the follow
ing year. In March, 1814, he was pro
moted to the rank of Brigadier-General,
and joined Major Brown on his route
to the scene of former glories on the
Niagara River. Scott was left at Buf
falo to form his men, by a rigid system
of discipline, to meet the trained British
soldiers in the field. His exertions
were not intermitted till his force of
officers and men were thoroughly ac
complished in eveiy important field-
movement. Early in July, his com
mand was fully prepared for action.
The British under General Riall were
in force at Chippewa, on the bank of
the river, above the Falls. On the
3d of July, General Brown captured
•Fort Erie, and pushed Scott ahead
toward the enemy. The next day

WINFIELD SCOTT.

381

both officers, British and American,
had their stations behind two small
streams on the edge of a level plain, a
mile and a half in length and a mile in
width, from the Niagara River to a
wood. This was the battle-ground of
Chippewa, a splendid field for the dis
play of General Scott's newly-taught
tactics against the practised veterans
of the enemy. The engagement was
fought on the fifth. At the moment
of tlie British advance, Scott was about
to manoeuvre his men in one of his drill
parades on the plain. " You will haye
a fight," said General Brown, coming
up ;. " the enemy is advancing," and he
passed on to the reserve, leaving Scott
to conduct the operations of the day.
The British battalions were drawn up
in line across the field, extending into
the wood, and were well supported by
artillery. They included in their ranks
some of the choicest troops of the
army. As their whole force was
greatly superior to the American, be
ing, all told, a thousand more, it re
quired consummate generalship on the
part of Scott to overcome the de
ficiency. This was accomplished by
him by a masterly system of evolutions
on the field, outflanking the enemy to
some extent, by an oblique movement,
enabling him to give effect to a bayonet
charge, which proved decisive. This
was carried out by the different batta
lions, supported by the artillery ad
vantageously placed on the bank of the
river, and the result was one of the
neatest operations of the whole war.
The battle commenced at four in the
afternoon and continued till evening.
The American loss Avas forty-eight men
ii.— 48

killed, two hundred and thirtv-six
wounded, and but two missing; that
of the British was two hundred and
thirty-six killed, officers and men, three
hundred and twenty-one wounded, and
one officer, thirty regulars and fifteen
militia missing. The moral effect of this
action was greater than its physical
success. It demonstrated that Ameri
can troops could be safely brought face
to face with experienced British vete
rans, and that we had at least, one ge
neral who, with ability to train and
lead them, was quite willing to show
himself where honor was to be won.
Twenty days later, in the same month
of July, was fought the battle of Lun-
dy's Lane, a sequel to the engagement of
Chippewa. The British, after their late
defeat, had retreated to their defences
at the mouth of the river, on Lake On
tario, to which General Brown directed
his attention with the design of expel
ling them from the region. He was
anxious to draw on a conflict, and was
manceuvering for the purpose, when in
telligence was received at the camp at
Chippewa, on the twenty-fifth, that the
enemy had crossed the river at Queens
town, vrith the probable intention of
capturing the supplies on the American
side. The rumor was soon proved to
be false ; but its immediate result was
a movement against the works at Ni
agara, where the enemy would be
weakened by the force sent across the
river. General Scott's command, con
sisting in all of thirteen hundred men,
was instantly sent along the road from
Chippewa to accomplish this diversion.
It appears not a little singular that on
so limited and well-defined a frontier

382

WINFIELD SCOTT.

as that of the Niagara River, manned
by several posts, there should be such
uncertain intelligence of the enemy's
condition and movements. Not only
had the enemy not crossed as was sup
posed, but important reinforcements,
brought by Lieutenant-General Drum-
mond from the posts on Lake Ontario,
had been received at the mouth of the
of which the American com-

river.

mander knew nothing. In fact, General
Riall was on his march leading the ad
vance of this neAV army against the
American force, when Scott, late in the
afternoon, expecting only to encounter,
on his own terms, a portion of the force
he had already beaten, was suddenly
confronted. on his road by an imposing
array of the enemy in greatly superior
numbers. They were drawn up on a
ridge on the side of Lundy's Lane, a
road at a right-angle to the. river, in the
immediate vicinity of the cataract, op
posite the loAver end of the American
Fall. It was hazardous to advance in
the face of this line ; it Avas at least in
convenient to retreat. Scott, always
ready to decide an issue of this kind in
favor of the courageous course, resolved
upon the attack. Time might be
gained till the reinforcements which he
sent for should arrive. In this respect,
however, the enemy had again the ad
vantage, for their reserve, already in
motion, was close at hand in their
rear. They had already some eighteen
hundred men in line ; the entire com
mand with which Scott approached
was thirteen hundred. Here again the
excellent strategy of the latter proved
of avail. Discovering that the British
line began from the road along the

Niagara, leaving a space between it
and the river, he planted a part of his
force in that quarter to turn the en
emy's left. On the other hand, he was
outflanked by the British right wing,
An attempt on their part to take ad
vantage of this, led to some serious
fighting in that direction in the re
pulse. Meanwhile; Major Jessup, on
the American right, had turned the
enemy and captured Major-General
Riall, the commander at Chippewa.
The advantage at both ends of the line
was thus with the Americans. In the
centre the enemy stood firm, supported
by their battery and their advantageous '
position. They had the benefit, also,
of constant reinforcements. This was
the state of affairs at nine o'clock, when
General Brown arrived on the field
with his resent. Disengaging Scott's
brigade, who, for an hour and a half
had borne the brunt of this contest, he
interposed fresh troops and ordered the
capture of the enemy's battery. The
charge was made and was successful
The guns Avere taken and the height
carried. Fresh attacks- were then made
by the foe to regain their position.
These again brought Scott into action.
He wras already wounded in the side,
but he fought on, gallantly charging
the enemy as they advanced, till he Avas
prostrated near the close of the ensrap-e-
ment, at half-past ten, by a musket
ball in his right shoulder. Two horses
were killed under him. The loss in
his brigade Avas six officers and one
hundred and two men killed, thirty
officers and three hundred and sixty-
six men wounded and missing. In the
AArhole engagement, the American loss,

WINFIELD SCOTT.

383

out of an aggregate of twenty-six hun
dred in the battle, was one hundred
and seventy-one killed, five hundred
and -seventy-one wounded, and one
hundred and ten missing; while that
of <the British, out of an aggregate of
not less than four thousand five hun
dred, was eighty-four killed, five, hun
dred and fifty-seven wounded, one
hundred and eighty-seven missing, and
forty-two prisoners.1 Both the leading
generals on either side were wounded,
General Brown on the American, Ge
neral Drummond on the British. The
battle, in fact, was a most bloody one.
Mr. Verplanck, in the narrative which
Ave have already cited, writing shortly
after its occurrence, pronounces it " in
proportion to the numbers engaged,
the most sanguinary, and decidedly the
best fought, of any action which ever
took place on our American continent."
It was remarkable, not only for the
number of men who fell and were
wounded on both sides, but for the
fearless, repeated crossings of the bayo
net — the severest test of a veteran sol
dier's resolution. The place no less
than the time distinguished this en
gagement. It was fought in the dark
ness, lit up only by its "own deadly
fires, its smoke mingling with the spray
of the cataract, the sound of its mus
ketry and artillery blended with the
ceaseless roar of the mighty Niagara.
It has been noticed that this victory
was anticipated by Brigadier-General
Scott's preferment, the very day of the
action, to a Major-Generalship by bre
vet. If the voice of a grateful country
1 Dawson's Battles of the United States, II., 362

could lighten the severe wounds of a
soldier, Scott had this alleviation of his
severe sufferings, in the painful months
of recovery. During the brief remainder
of the Avar, General Scott had his head
quarters at Washington and Baltimore,
in command of the tenth military dis
trict, planning northern campaigns,
which happily were not required to be
executed. On the conclusion of peace he stood
so high in the estimation of the Gov
ernment, that he was offered the post
of Secretary of War, which he modestly
declined on the score of youth. He
assisted in the reduction of the army ;
but,. feeling that he was yet a learner
in his favorite science, accepted a voy
age to Europe, partly of a diplomatic
character and partly for the object of
professional study He was assisted in
the latter by some valuable introduc
tions from the patriot Kosciusko. There
was an excellent opportunity at Paris
and elsewhere, of learning the move
ments of armies from generals who had
served in the great European wars just
closed at Waterloo. Scott availed him
self of every advantage, and returned
by way of England to the United
States, in 1816. The following year he
was married to Miss Maria Mayo,
daughter of John Mayo, of Richmond,
Virginia. On his return he was assigned to the
command of the seaboard,' with his
head-quarters in the city of New York.
To the ordinary duties of the rank and
station in time of peace in which he was
sedulously employed, he added, in 1821,
the publication of a system of " General
Regulations for the Army, or Military

384

WINFIELD SCOTT

Institutes," embracing the results of his
studies and experience in the practice
of war. He afterwards presided over
a board of officers called to prescribe a
uniform system of organization and
tactics for the different departments of
the militia; and in 1835, at the call of
Congress, published a new and im
proved edition of the " Infantry Tactics."
Besides this purely professional labor,
he advocated, in an eloquent essay of
considerable length, in 1821, a " Scheme
for restricting the use of Ardent Spirits
in the United States," his efforts being
directed, not to total abstinence, but
to the limitation of the obvious evils
of intemperance. In 1829, he again
visited Europe, making the tour of
France, Belgium, and Germany.
The only opportunities for military
service in the United States between
the second war with England and the
conflict with Mexico, were in the occa
sional interruptions of friendly rela
tions with the Indian tribes on the
frontier, and the later more continuous
struggle with that domestic enemy in
Florida. Of the former of these the war
with Black Hawk was the most for
midable. This insurrection came to a
crisis in the summer of 1832, when it as
sumed the most threatening proportions.
The border of the Upper Mississippi in
Illinois, adjacent to Rock River, was
the main region of the conflict. Gene
ral Scott was ordered with a consider
able force to cooperate with General
Atkinson, who was already in the
field. This journey was a memorable
one, not for its achievements at the
close, for the savages were conquered
before he arrived on the ground, but

for the greater than warlike difficulties,
the more than military heroism, which
attended its progress. The year in
which these events occurred will be
remembered as the fatal period of the
first introduction of Asiatic Cholera
to our shores ; and it was in the first
months of that terrible scourge, aggra
vated by a still more fearful panic, that
General Scott embarked in July, at
Buffalo, conducting a force of nearly a
thousand men, in four steamboats by
the route of the Lakes, to the theatre
of the Avar in Blinois. The dreaded
pestilence broke out in the boats on the
Lake. Scott reached Chicago to wit
ness the reduction of his force to less
than one half of the number with which
he had set out. It is needless to dweL
on the sickening detail of suffering and
death. It is enough for us here to re
cord the soldier's duty and humane
kindness, in prompt obedience to which
the Commander-in-chief, himself the
while suffering the preliminary symp
toms of the disease, gave his personal
attentions to the stricken and dying.
He might have rested contented with
the best general disposition of his
troops, and left the rest to his medical
officers. "But such," says an officer
of the army, an eye-witness of his con
duct in these scenes,1 "was not his
course. He thought he had other
duties to perform, that his personal
safety must be disregarded to visit the
sick, to cheer the well, to encourage the
attendants, to set an example to all, and
to prevent a panic — in a word, to save
the lives of others at the risk of his

Mansfield's Scott, p 211.

WINFIELD SCOTT..

385

own." The simple statement of the
fact needs no rhetorical comment. It
speaks for itself, and cheerful is it, even
in the midst of such disaster, to note
the humanity of the true soldier. He
is, indeed, pledged by the honorable
vows of his profession, to meet death
in the field, but it is a new test of en
durance to encounter the malignity of
a fearful pestilence in the hospital.
Let the case be reversed. How many
medical men would leave their stations
to lead a forlorn hope in a siege ? It
is the novel, unaccustomed enemy that
tries the courage.
To these disheartening scenes of war
and pestilence succeeded the pleasing
duties of peace negotiations with the
rebel Indians. Scott was associated with
Governor Reynolds, of Illinois, in the
interviews with the tribes, and had the
chief conduct of the conferences. He
managed these with such courtesy and
address, that two important treaties
were concluded ; one with the Sacs and
Foxes, the other with the Winnebagoes,
ceding to the United States, and thus
to the civilization of the world, im
mense territories in Iowa and Wiscon
sin. Such was the employment of General
Scott in the autumn of 1832. It was
to be immediately succeeded, on his re
turn to Washington, by a mission of a
delicate nature, in furtherance of the
policy of the administration in regard
to the nullification ¦ contest of South
Carolina, which Avas now approaching
a crisis. The State, by the action of its
Legislature, had resolved to set at de
fiance the authority of the General
fiovernment in the obvious exercise of

its powers, in the collection of the
revenues, a resolution which President
Jackson had met by a full declaration
of the constitutional principles at stake,
and of his purpose to maintain them, in
his celebrated Proclamation. He was
not a man to whom a state paper, or
manifesto of any kind, to which he had
once set his hand, was an empty threat.
He accordingly took measures to en
force, if necessary, by the full strength
of the Government, its violated au
thority. On the eighteenth of Novem
ber, three weeks before the Proclama
tion was issued, General Scott was
privately directed to repair to South
Carolina and take such precautions as
might be necessary to place the United
States' defences in that region in a
ready condition for action. The Gov
ernment was not to be caught by sur
prise should the time come.' The mis
sion was executed by Scott in its full
spirit. He bore himself so discreetly
that he made every necessary arrange
ment, personally with the United States
officers, and in the strengthening of the
forts, and collection of troops and sup
plies, that all was accomplished in the
midst of a highly excited people, wi thout
interruption. He left Charleston, even,
says his biographer, Mansfield, " without
having awakened a suspicion of his be
ing connected with impending events."
In January he was again landed at his
post at Fort Moultrie, prepared to pro
tect by its guns the collection of the
revenues at the mouth of the harbor.
His purpose could now no longer ad
mit of doubt, but he bore himself with
equal prudence and courtesy, till the
occasion of his mission had passed by,

386

WINFIELD SCOTT.

after t.ie passage of the compromise
acts, and the rescinding by the State of
its obnoxious resolutions.
The next important employment of
General Scott was in his command, at
an early period of the Seminole War in
Florida. He took the field in the
month of February, 1836, advancing
his troops, consisting of a body of
twelve hundred regulars, largely rein
forced by volunteers from the Southern
States, in three divisions, from the
north into the heart of the country, to
Tampa Bay. The Indians, however,
were a politic foe, and, retreating
to their inaccessible hummocks and
swamps, kept out of the way of this
formidable demonstration; nor was a
subsequent movement, in smaller par
ties, more successful in beating up their
quarters. The season was advancing
towards summer, the health of the
troops suffered, and the short campaign,
unfruitful in results, was pronounced a
failure. There was some disappoint
ment ; but the public learnt better, by
the difficulties encountered by the brave
officers in the slow progress of this war,
to estimate the real position of Gene
ral Scott. He was, shortly after, in
the month of May, in Georgia, conduct
ing the operations against the Creeks,
when he was recalled to Washington, to
meet an inquiry into his management of
these Southern campaigns. A court was
summoned, composed of Major-Gen
eral Macomb, foremost in rank in the
service, and Brigadier-Generals Atkin
son and Brady. Appearing before this
tribunal, the verdict of which fully
justified his course, General Scott
opened his defence in the following

characteristic manner: "When a Doga
of Genoa, for some imaginary offence
imputed by Louis XIV, Avas torn from
his government and compelled to visit
France, in order to debase himself be
fore that inflated monarch, he was
asked, in the palace, what struck him
with the greatest wonder amid the
blaze of magnificence in his view. 'To
find myself here !' was the reply of the
indignant Lescaro. And so, Mr. Presi
dent, unable as I am, to remember one
blunder in my recent operations, or a
single duty neglected, I may 'say, that
to find myself in the presence of this
honorable court, while the army I but
recently commanded is still in pursuit
of the enemy, fills me with equal grief
and astonishment." The reference to
the President, the omnipotent Jackson,
who was then in the chair, could hardly
be mistaken. The relations between
the two victors of the war of 1812 had
not always been of the most friendly
character. Jackson, who, at times, suf
fered no regard for self-respect to stand
in the way of his imperious will, had
in 1817 addressed a very discreditable
letter to General Scott, calling him to
account for a legitimate expression of
opinion on what was admitted to be an
illogical assumption of authority, to
which Scott had answered with firm
ness and dignity. Some years after, a
manly overture' was made by Scott in
Washington, and a reconciliation en
sued. The management of the South
Carolina difficulties would naturally
tend to strengthen this feeling. Its in
terruption by this recall was not car
ried beyond the grave. The news of
General Jackson's death reached Gene-

WINFIELD SCOTT

387

ral Scott when he was presiding at the
board of examiners at West Point.
He spoke a few words of eulogy, and
suspended the examination for the day,
as a token of respect.1
In 1837, the prudence and judgment
of General Scott were again involved
to ward off the war Avhich seemed to
be imminent on the Canadian frontier.
Singularly enough, the spot to Avhich
his efforts were first directed, was that
portion of the Niagara River above the
falls, where his earliest laurels had been
won. It was the time of the burning
of the Caroline, that high-handed mea
sure of British retaliation, consequent
upon the invasion of a portion of their
territory by a lawless band of ma
rauders. A strong party under the
name of "Sympathizers," Avas eager to
make common cause Avith the disaffected
in the provinces. There were, anger
and outrage on both sides, when Scott
arrived to play his part of the Great
Pacificator. He stood firmly, but cour
teously betAveen both sides ; arrested,
by his influence and persuasions, the
incipient warfare, and gained time for
the sober course of political delibera
tion, and two years later, in 1839, ren
dered the same good service in Maine,
when the country appeared to be in
still greater danger of an actual out
break of hostilities. His correspondence
on the latter occasion with Sir John
Harvey, formerly his chivalric antago
nist in the war of 1812, but then Lieu
tenant-Governor of New Brunswick,
did much to smooth the pathway of
negotiation, for the withdrawal of the
O t
• Mansfield's Scott, p. 178.

troops from the disputed territory, and
the peaceful abeyance of the question
till it should be adjusted by treaty.
Nothing was more natural after this
extended series of services, both civil
and military, than that General Scott
should be talked of for the Presidency.
His political views were generally un
derstood to favor the principles of the
Whigs; he was accordingly ballotted
for in the nominating convention- of
that body, in 1839, Avhich settled upon
General Harrison. The vote cast for
him reached, in one of the ballotings,
near one-fourth of the entire number.
Henry Clay, to whose claims Scott was
ever willing to defer, was the third
candidate before the convention. In
the conventions of the Whig party in
the succeeding elections, his name Avas
not forgotten till in the canvass of 1852,
his fame in the meantime ripened by
the brilliant success of his Mexican
campaign, he Avas brought directly be
fore the public as the candidate for the
Presidency. In 1841, several years previous to
the breaking out of that Avar of annex
ation, General Scott became, by the
death of Major-General Macomb, the
senior officer of the American army,
and consequently, next, to the President,
and the department at Washington,
charged Avith its general administration.
Nothing can Avell be done without at
least consulting the experience and
listening to the recommendations of this
officer. It is his business, beside the
discharge of particular duties, to exer
cise a general supervision over the
whole army administration, and, in an
annual report, bring a statement of its

388

WINFIELD SCOTT.

condition, with such suggestions as may
occur to him for its improvement, to
the attention of the Government. Gen
eral Scott was engaged in these usual
employments of his office at the period
if the breaking out of the war Avith
Mexico. He had not been called upon
to make any preparations for the con
flict, the administration, if it had any
distinct intentions in the matter, not
thinking it advisable to bring them
tangibly to the notice of the public. Of
his own motion, however, he had called
attention to the weak condition of the
army in point of numbers, and, in his
report of November, 1845, recom
mended the filling up of the regiments,
which on a peace footing, contained
but half their complement. "This,"
says the historian of these events, Mr.
Mansfield, " was General Scott's recom
mendation, without looking at the ques
tion of war with Mexico ; although it
now appears, from official documents,
that the war was then in the contem
plation of the cabinet. Had the Pre
sident recommended and Congress ac
ceded to even this small increase of the
military force, it may be - doubted
Avhether the invasion of Mexico and the
sanguinary battles which folloAved,
would ever have occurred. General
Taylor's army would have been in
creased early in the spring, and the
Mexican general Avould, not improba
bly, have refrained from an attack, to
which he was tempted and invited by
the weakness of the American force." *
Be this, hoAvever, as it may, and
without looking at the good or evil of

1 Mansfield's Mexican War, p. 2*7.

thus drifting- into the war, it is certain
from our knowledge of all Scott's ad
ministrative course, that he would not
have gone into the struggle unprepared.
It was his disadvantage in the scenes
which ensued, not to be on terms of
perfect understanding with the Govern
ment. The general arrangements, in
deed, of forAvarding the large volunteer
force were placed in his hands, and it
was understood, when the first active
preparations were made on the break
ing out of hostilities that he was to
take the command in the field. But
while he was bending every effort, and
bringing all his resources to expedite
the army, he Avas met by what ap
peared to him at least a suspicious
proposition of the administration party
in the Senate, to create two new major-
generals, who were to enjoy such com
mand and relative rank as the Presi
dent might be pleased to assign them.
The bearing of this upon Scott is thus
described by the narrator of these cir
cumstances just cited. "The effect of
this measure, if adopted, would give
the President the power of appointing,
by law, some new, or junior, or merely
political general over the head of Scott.
That this proposition, coming from the
political friends of the President, should
excite the sensibilities of Scott, Avith
the idea that he was to be supplanted
in the command of the army, Avas most
natural. That such an idea was not
unjust to the President, or his friends,
in Congress, was sufficiently shown by
subsequent events, when the attempt
was openly made, and nearly succeeded,
to appoint a lieutenant-general to the
command of the American army."

WINFIELD SCOTT.

389

This last allusion is to the bill which
passed the House of Representatives,
but which was defeated in the Senate,
the object of which was to give that
important and responsible position to
Senator Benton, who had busily urged
an active prosecution of the war, in
place of the " masterly inactivity " re
commended by Calhoun.1
Rendered thus uneasy in his posi
tion, General Scott addressed, in some
haste, a letter to Mr. Marcy, the Secre
tary of War, who had also complained
of the dilatoriness of the commander in
taking the field, justifying his course
in making his preparations ; but, at the
same time, expressing his reluctance to
proceed on so important a mission
without " the active, candid, and steady
support of his government." He accord
ingly suggested that " some other com
mander of the new army against Mex
ico should be selected," promising his
candid aid to the new officer, " no mat
ter Avho he may be," and adding, in a
sentence which has obtained the fami
liarity of a proverb — "My explicit
meaning is, that I do not desire to place
myself in the most perilous of all posi
tions — a fire upon my rear from Wash
ington, and a fire in front from the
Mexicans." We need not here pursue
this unpleasant controversy further, or
enter into its motives,, or seek to assign
the relative success of the disputants ;
suffice it that for the time Scott re
mained at Washington till the Govern
ment, balked in its schemes of major-
generals, and growing impatient of the
ineffective though brilliant achieve-
1 Benton's Thirty Years' View, II, 678.
n.— 49

ments on the Rio Grande in the month
of November,- listened to his request
for-active employment, and called upon
General Scott to take the command of
the force intended to strike a blow at
the heart of the enemy's country, by
the line of Vera Cruz. This time there
was no interference. ' " It is not pro
posed," wrote Mr. Marcy in his order
of November 23d, "to control your
operations by definite and positive in
structions, but you are left 'to prosecute
them, as your judgment, under a full
view of all the circumstances shall dic
tate. The work is before you, and the
means provided, or to be provided, for
accomplishing it are committed to you,
in the full confidence that you Avill use
them to the best advantage."
Thus reassured for the time of the
support of the Government, and expe
riencing, doubtless, the satisfaction of
this compulsory compliment to his
military genius, he proceeded at once
to the seat of war. Under his new in
structions, it became necessary to divert
an important portion of General Tay
lor's command from his line to the new
operations on the Gulf; in fact, the re
duction of the army of the Rio Grande
was so complete as to arrest the ad
vance of its commander, and leave him
stripped of the regulars, with a small
force of volunteers, sufficient only for
defence, though the stubborn invin
cibility of Taylor presently made even
this reduced band equal to the brilliant
victory at Buena Vista.
General Scott reached the Rio
Grande, by way of New Orleans, in
January, 1847, sending before him a
letter to General Taylor, a model of

390

WINFIELD SCOTT.'

professional and gentlemanly courtesy,
in which, so far as words could allevi-
ate an unpleasant necessity, in terms in
which the motives of duty, patriotism,
and even a chivalrous appeal to friend
ship, are blended with a natural, easy
candor, he softened the withdrawal of
most of his best troops from that com
mander. The months of January and Febru
ary were passed by General Scott on
the Rio Grande, collecting his forces for
the rendezvous at the island of Lobos,
on the coast, preparatory to his descent
upon Vera Cruz. On the ninth of
March, a reconnaissance having been
previously carefully made by him, in
company with Commodore Connor,
who had charge of the naval move
ments, General Scott led the way
from the last rendezvous at Antonio
Lizardo, personally directing the de-
barcation of the army. The spot cho
sen was some three miles ' below the
city, on the bank opposite the island
of Sacrifices. Every disposition was
made to receive an attack; but the
place was found unguarded by the
enemy. With this advantage and a
smooth sea, the admirable military and
naval arrangements which had been
planned with consummate skill, were
carried out with the greatest regularity.
The landing of the whole force of some
ten thousand, was completed in the
evening, without the slightest accident.
The line of investment of the city was
immediately taken up. It was a work
of no little labor, owing to the extra
ordinary difficulties of the ground. A
raging Norther swept the loose sand-
hillocks, almost stifling the troops;

while the inefficient means of land-
transportation added greatly to their
toils. They all worked with a good
will, however, completing the line of
five miles on the twelfth. Ten days
were passed in forwarding the preli-
minary operations of the siege, landing
the heavy guns from the ships, and
opening the trenches. On the twenty-
second, the preparations for attack be
ing well advanced, General Scott sum
moned the city to surrender. A refusal
was returned and the fire from the
mortar batteries opened the same day
upon the town, seconded by some of
the smaller vessels of the squadron.
New batteries were added, and the fire
continued without abatement, and with
great damage to the town till the morn
ing of the twenty-sixth, when overtures
were received from the Mexican com
mander, which ended in the capitula
tion of the city and castle of San Juan
d'Ulloa. The town, which had offered
a gallant. resistance, was thus spared
the horrors of the impending final as
sault. The surrender of the fort, which
defended the place from the sea, and
was Considered impregnable, followed,
as a consequence of the taking of the
city After that, it would have been
compelled to' destroy what it was de
signed to protect. The surrender was
entire. This great triumph, accom
plished with little loss to the assailants,
inaugurated a series of victories, ex
tending, from this base of operations on
the sea, along the line of the national
road to the very walls of the capital.
On the eighth of April the advance is
begun by the division of General Twiggs.
The first stand is made by Santa Anna

WINFIELD SCOTT.

391

at the defile and heights of Cerro Gordo,
a strong position, some sixty miles from
Vera Cruz, walled in by mountains and
protected by a deep river. There, with
batteries skillfully disposed at the ap
proaches, in front of the crowning for
tress of Cerro Gordo, the Mexican Gen
eral, with some twelve thousand men,
partly the .remains of his army de
feated nearly two months before, at
Buena Vista, awaited the approach
of the Americans, numbering about
eight thousand five hundred. A plan
of attack was set forth by General
Scott, in a general order on the seven
teenth of April, for the following day.
" The enemy's whole line of entrench
ments and batteries," commences this
remarkable document, " will be at
tacked in front, and at the same time
turned, early in the day, to-morrow—
probably before ten o'clock, a.m. ;" — a
sentence which has its happy sequel
and consummation in the opening of
the same commander's next dispatch to
the Secretary of War, of the nineteenth :
" Sir, the plan of attack sketched in
General Order forwarded herewith,
was finely executed by this gallant
army, before two o'clock, p.m., yester
day." The history of the battle had
been thus already written. The main
incidents of this brilliant achievement
were the advance of General Twiggs by
a road opened through the wood to the
enemy's left, where, the night having
been spent in raising several heavy
guns to a captured hill, commanding
a portion of the enemy's position, the
morning witnessed the successful as
sault of the works <Jn the height of
Cerro Gordo, by the gallant Harvey

and his command, with the immediate
pursuit of the flying Mexi.cans. The
attack upon the enemy's batteries in
advance, was not at first successful but
they were soon rendered untenable by
the movements in their rear. The rout
was complete. " We are quite embar
rassed," wrote Scott, " with the results
of victory— prisoners of war, heavy ord
nance, field batteries, small arms, and
accoutrements. About three thousand
men laid down their arms, with .the
usual proportion of field and company
officers, besides five generals, several of
them of great' distinction." The cost
of this special victory to the Americans
was comparatively inconsiderable — six
ty-three killed; including three officers,
and three hundred and sixty-six wound
ed. The enemy's loss in killed and
wounded, exclusive of the prisoners
taken, was very much greater.
The losses of an army, however, are
not solely to be estimated by the dis
asters in the field. The exposures of
the camp, the wear and tear of the con
stitution on the march, the diseases of
new countries, the reaction of extraor
dinary efforts and labors, supported by
the stimulus of the hour, fill hospitals
and thicken graves more than the bul
lets of the enemy. It need not sur
prise us, therefore, that General Scott's
effective force, on his taking peaceable
possession of Puebla, on his advance
toward the capital, after his recent vic
tories, was only about four thousand
five hundred men. It was a force large
enough to maintain its position where-
ever it might be, and perhaps to meet
in a single engagement any superior
army which the Mexicans might bring

S92

WINFIELD SCOTT.

into the field ; but the further approach
to the capital involved a series of mili
tary encounters and desperate assaults,
to which so small a body, though every
man might be a Julius Caesar, was en
tirely inadequate. It was a matter of
necessity, therefore, to wait for reinforce
ments. They should have been pro
vided before; but Congress had been
uncertain and dilatory in action, and it
was not till the seventh of August, after
nearly three months' comparative in
action, that the army, reinforced by the
newly-raised regiments, took up its
march toward the city of Mexico. Its
marching force consisted of nearly ele
ven thousand men, arranged under four
divisions, commanded respectively by
Generals Worth, Twiggs, Pillow, and
Quitman, and the cavalry brigade of
Colonel Harvey. Four days pursuing
the way along the national road, brought
the advance to Ayotla, in the valley
of Mexico, fifteen miles from the capi
tal, on its eastern side. In the inter
vening space were the strongly fortified
hill El Penon, and the well-protected
pass by Mexicalcingo. A reconnaissance
was made of these points with great
hardihood, which confirmed General
Scott's previous view, that the proper
approach for .his army to the capital
would be, not by these powerful de
fences where the attack was naturally
expected, but by another route less
protected to the south. He accord
ingly, having assured himself of the
practicability of this new expedient,
reversing the line of march, directed
the course of the army to that quarter,
on the fifteenth, round the southern
side of Lake Chalco The whole of

this neAV route was rough and perilous,
and beset with difficulties calculated to
test the patience of the troops. They
were disadvantages, however, which
might be overcome with less loss of
life than the well-fortified positions and
causeway on the eastern side. In three
days the army had changed its posi
tion and was at San Augustine, the
base of operations. In front of it were
the strong position of the Heights of
Contreras, the entrenchments of Cheru-
busco, while, in the immediate neigh
borhood of the city, frowned the for
tified hill of Chepultepec, with its
adjacent defence, Molmo del Rey All
of those places, manned by the best
troops in Mexico, on the approach of
the American army offered an ob
stinate resistance, happily determined
by their enrollment on the list of Ame
rican victories. Contreras, separated
from the encampment by a rough bed
of broken rock, the famous pedregaL
when once reached, commanded a good
road to the capital, and if taken, would
turn the fortified position of San An
tonio, on the direct road from San
Augustine. To Contreras, accordingly,
General Scott first directed his atten
tion. General Valencia Avas posted
there with a battery of twenty-two
pieces of artillery and about six thou
sand men of the army of the north.
The immediate direction of the assault
fell to General Smith, who, before dawn
of the morning of the twentieth, gal
lantly carried the works, the Mexicans
almost instantly retreating before the
fierce onset in the greatest confusion,
suffering heavy*losses of killed and
Avounded, and leaving a large numbei

WINFIELD SCOTT.

393

of prisoners and a huge quantity of"
Avar material behind them.
The road in that direction was uoav
open to Cherubusco, some six miles dis
tant, and its other approach from San
Antonio having been cleared of the
enemy, that important position be
came the next object of attack. It was
defended by a field-work at the bridge
entering the town, the adjacent fortified
church and grounds of the convent
of San Pablo, and the banks of the
river. The works were supported by
the whole reserve of Santa Anna, and
the best troops about the capital, num
bering in all some twenty-seven thou
sand. The same day, so brilliantly
opened with the victory at Contreras,
saw the defeat of the Mexicans at Che
rubusco. The bridge head, or tUe du
pont, was gallantly carried by a portion
of Worth's command ; General Twiggs
directed the attack against the convent,
^ and General Shields met the outlying
forces of the enemy in a serious en
counter. The result, as in all previous
instances, Avas the undoubted superi
ority of the Americans ; who, however,
in these Mexican battles, had always
full opportunity of showing their met
tle and endurance. The capital Avas
now open to the conquerors ; but, Avith
his accustomed magnanimity, General
Scott paused before assailing the city,
to give one more opportunity to those
negotiations of peace which had fol-
•loAved and checked the whole progress
of the Avar. It was literally the con
quest of a peace. At this last moment,
Santa Anna Avas still looked to for that
desirable consummation. An armistice
was agreed upon, Avhich resulted, after

more than a fortnight's delay, in the
resumption of hostilities. On the eighth
of September Avas fought the fiercely-
contested action of Molino del Rey,
the defeat of a greatly superior force,
holding a very strong position, followed
on the thirteenth, by the last croAvning
victory of Chepultepec, and the passage
of the minor defences, opening the way
for the American army to the city of
Mexico. That night a portion of the
army was within the city. The
next day, the fourteenth, the Mex
ican army having left before morning,
the city council surrendered the capital
and the American commander entered
in triumph. It was taken, in the com
prehensive language of his dispatch,
the simplest and happiest eulogy of the
many actors of the scenes leading to
this event, " Not by any one or two
corps, but by the talent, the science,
the gallantly, the prowess of this entire
army." One last military service, not less im
posing or of inferior weight to those
we have passed in review, remains to
be recorded of the now aged general.
In the autumn and winter of 1860,
when the voice of rebellion threatened
the integrity of the Government of the
United States, and the safety of the
national capital began to be threatened
by the bold hand of treason, General
Scott, at the last moment, was called
by President Buchanan to Washington,
to assist with his council in the military
preservation of the State. The invita
tion found him ready to meet it. Once
and again, he had expressed his patri
otic sentiments in no equivocal terms :
nor was it to be doubted by any that,

394:

WINFIELD SCOTT.

though allied by birth and various ties
to the southern soil, he would suffer no
local claim or interest to interfere with
his paramount duty to his flag and
country. His presence in Washington,
in the political crisis of January, 1861,
when the powers of government, under
the unfavorable influence of the Presi
dent's recent unhappy message, seemed
for the time paralyzed, was accepted as
a happy omen for the nation. It was
soon felt, as the demand for action be
came more and more imminent, that
the old chieftain of the army would
stand forth yet again the protector of
the State Avhich his right arm had so
often assisted to strengthen. „ Nor was
the expectation disappointed. Under
his guidance and supervision, during
the last days of the administration of
Mr. Buchanan, and the startling months
of trials Avhich greeted his successor,
nothing Avas left undone by him to
secure the capital and place the scanty
military reserves of the country in the
best position to meet the coming shock.
He had the satisfaction to see those de
fences of the nation, fearfully thinned
as were the ranks of the higher officers
of the army by treason or disaffection,
growing gradually stronger under his
eye, as volunteers flocked to his com
mand, preserving the city, the palla
dium of the government,, till Congress
evoked a force capable of resisting the
vast numbers of the Confederacy in
arms. During the winter, the spring,
and summer of 1861, General Scott
remained at Washington, controlling,
directing, and supervising the vast field
of military operations, stretching from
the- Potomac to the farthest west.

At length, worn out with labors and
infirmities, the hour came when he
must resign this important command
to younger hands. Few scenes in our
national history are more impressive
than the simple and dignified with
drawal of General Scott, on the first of
November, 1861, at Washington. In a
parting letter to the Secretary of War,
he stated the physical necessities which
had rendered his retirement inevitable,
and thanked that officer and the Pre
sident for the personal kindness he had
received, and complimented the latter
on his conscientious performance of
duty in his high office. A cabinet
meeting was held, and upon the accep
tance of the resignation, that body ac
companied the Chief Magistrate to the
General's residence. The order of re
tirement Avas there read by President
Lincoln. It announced the honorable
privilege, previously accorded by Con
gress, of the continuance of the pay .
and emoluments of the Lieutenant-Gen-
eral, and added one heartfelt sentence
of gratitude and respect. " The Ameri
can people," was its language, " will
hear with sadness and deep emotion
that General Scott has withdraAvn from
the active control of the army, Avhile
the President and unanimous Cabinet
express their own and the nation's
sympathy in his personal affliction, and
their profound sense of the important
public services rendered by him to his
country during his long and brilliant
career, among which Avill ever be grate
fully distinguished his faithful devo-.
tion to the Constitution, the Union, and
the flag, when assailed by paricidal
rebellion." Nor was the parting less

WINFIELD SCOTT.

395

friendly and pathetic with the young
officer Gen. McClellan, to whom was now
delegated the vast responsibilities from
which the worn-out hero withdreAV.
General Scott was accompanied to
New York by Several members of the
cabinet, where, after a few days of rest,
declining meanAvhile all public atten
tions, he sailed on th*, ninth of Novem
ber, in the steamship Arago, for HaATe,
with the hope of benefiting his greatly
impaired health by a few months of
winter travel in Europe. In Paris he
was enabled to render an important
service to his country, in the assurance
which he . published of friendliness
between the nations, when Great Brit
ain was in a fever excitement over
the arrest of the steamer Trent, by
¦ Captain Wilkes. Anxious to be again
in America, . General Scott presently
returned and made his permanent re
sidence — in the winter months, in the
city of New York, in summer at
West Point, where, on one remarkable
occasion in 1862, a hurried visit was
paid him by President Lincoln, to
consult on a point of military expedi
ency. He also received at this place
the Prince of Wales and his attendants
in their rapid tour through the North
ern States, and at the close of the Avar
paid a signal "act of courtesey to his
great successor General Grant, on oc
casion - of his visit to the Military
Academy. General Scott now also
employed his leisure in the prepara
tion for the press of an autobiography,
a review of ,the leading events of his
career which was published in New
York in 1864.
The li earth of the veteran General

was now failing; but, cultivating social
enjoyments to the last, he bore up man
fully against the pressure of the infirm
ities of age. Seeking relief from the
rigor of a northern climate, he passed
the winter of 1365-6 in the South,
chiefly at New Orleans, returning in
the spring to New York and' his favor
ite residence at West Point. He ar
rived at the latter place early in May
in feeble health, though he was still
able to ride out, and at evening to en
gage in his favorite game of whist with
the officers of the station.
The end, however, was rapidly ap
proaching. Alarming symptoms set
in and after a few days of prostration,
on the forenoon of May 29th, 1866,
while the Chaplain of the garrison, the
Rev. Dr. French, was engaged in his
presence in the service of the Episco
pal Church for the dying, as the prayer
for the departing was uttered, General
Scott calmly closed his earthly career.
Signal honors were at once paid his
memory in bulletins and special orders
by President Johnson, by Lieut-Gen
eral Grant, by the heads of the De
partments at Washington, and by va
rious official bodies throughout the
country. The 4uneral which took place
at West Point at noon of the 1st of June,
was attended by General Grant and
his staff, numerous distinguished mili
tary officers, delegates from the Senate
of the United States and other repre
sentatives. The funeral services of the
Episcopal Church of which the deceas
ed was a member, were held at the
Chapel on the parade ground and at
the grave in the beautiful West Point
Cemetery in the vicinity.

GEORGE BANCROFT.

Geoege BaitoeoiTj the eminent' his
torian of the' United1 States, is a riative
of the State of Massachusetts. He was
born October. 3d, 180.0, at the town of
Worcester, where his father, Aaron
Bancroft; a distinguished Congrega
tional clergyman, had been settled for
many years.- ' To his -parent the son is
doubtless indebted". for. the prevailing
influence towards literary studies and
pursuits Avhich has: governed his life.
Dr. Banoroftj'.the elder, indeed was an
accomplished writer, of a well-discip
lined mind, and master of &• style of no
little felicity ; his sermons on the doc
trines of the Gospel were admired by
President John Adams, as " a chain of
diamonds set in links of gold," and his
. life of Washington is one of the most
noticeable of 'the many epitomes of a
subject which, since the day in which
the' book was written, has grown so
largely in the hands of the biographer.
A parent who had risen from the
humble, but honorable ^ pursuits of a
farmer's boy, to a "distinguished rank
in the pulpit, and a reputation as a
man Of letters, was not likely to neglect.
the education of his son. We accord
ingly find him training , the young
George with care, and early placing
him under the direction of the eminent
Dr. Abbott, at the Phillips Exeter Aca

demy in New Hampshire, a school
famous for having includedin its ranlcs
numbers cf the most distinguished men
of. New England, in every. Avalk of pro
fessional life. That, the boy was of a
quick mental turn, "fully capable of pro
fiting, by all which, might be placed in
his way, of books or instruction, we
have the testimony of a contemporary
letter written, by Dr. Nathan Parker of
Portsmouth, a divine of repute, to the
father of the pupil. It . is dated in
October, 1811,- when the boy was in
his twelfth year ; and records a visit to
the school and a conversation with
Master George, and the favorable im
pression made upon him in this inter
view. The youth was "perfectly satis
fied with his situation," which was a
good sign to begin with. He was also
in. good health, which was something
more to the point. " I was surprised,"
writes this friend of the family, " atrthe
intelligence with which he conversed,
and the maturity of mind which, he
discovered." He found the lad, though
the youngest but three in the academy,
emulous of the prizes which were dis
tributed. " He did not think he should
gain one, but he would" try. These
(he adds)," you may say are trifling
things, but they discover a disposition
of mind, with which I think you must

' P/wiptjizip/h., frunvlue
Jobnsan.By8.Co. Publishers. SWiark

 *.DJ3a2 *y Jlilvvstm.fry J- Cb.in.0u dart* ^^ e'rT:. UstrUt ^Krttvr the jju&em district & 2? I

GEORGE BANCROFT.

397

be gratified. I made inquiries of Mr.
Abbott concerning him. He observed
that he was a very fine lad ; that he
appeared to have the stamina of a dis
tinguished man ; that he took his rank
among the first scholars in the academy,
and that he wished I would send
him half a dozen such boys." Such
praises of preceptors, not always dis
interested, are, indeed, to be taken with
a grain of allowance ; but in the pre
sent instance the testimony, so well
sustained by the result, is of value. It
shows that the excellence of after life
is but the continuance of an influence
possessed or received in childhood.
The sense of obligation then assumed,
masters circumstances in every succes
sive relation of the man.
There Avas an early development in
the youth, for, entering Harvard at
thirteen, he graduated at seventeen
Avith the second honors of his class —
the class including many members Avho
have since become distinguished, among
them, the author and politician, Caleb
Cushing, and the Rev. Dr. Stephen H.
Tyng. In the following year, 1818,
Mr. Bancroft visited Europe for the
purpose of prosecuting his studies in
the eminent universities of Germany.
He Avas at Gottingen two years, profit
ing by the instructions of eminent
scholars who then illustrated that seat
of learning — Blumenbach in natural
history, Eichorn in the oriental lan
guages, Heeren in ancient histoiy,
Dissen in the antiquities and litera
ture of Greece f and Rome. With the
last he went through a complete
course of Greek philosophy, and read
in the original nearly all the writ-
n.— 50

ings of Plato, of whom the profes
sor- was a devout admirer. Having
obtained the degree of Doctor of Phi
losophy, Mr. Bancroft proceeded to
Berlin, where he listened to the lec
tures of Wolf, the editor of Homer, of
Schleiermacher and Hegel. At Heidel
berg he studied with the historian
Schlosser, all the while making the
acquaintance of the eminent scholars
of the day Before returning to Ame
rica he made the tour of England,
Switzerland, Germany, and Italy, stor
ing his mind with the ample materials
for reflection furnished in their great
galleries of art and science, and their
living social condition. At Paris, he
became acquainted with Cousin, Alex
ander Von Humboldt, and Benjamin
Constant; he had seen Goethe in Ger
many; in Italy he fell in with Lord
Byron, Manzoni at Milan, and CheATalier
Bunsen and Niebuhr at Rome. The
example of the German scholars taught
him the value of labor in research,
while their philosophical acumen
pointed out the way to make that
labor a kindling, life-imparting reality.
The thoroughness of his studies, says
the account in the " Cyclopaedia of
American Literature," is shown in the
philosophical summaries of Roman his
tory and policy,^ and of the literature
of Germany, then rapidly gaining the
ascendant, which he, not long after,
published in America; while a thin
volume of poems, published at Boston,
in 1823, witnesses to his imaginative
enthusiasm for art and nature, as he
surveyed the ruins of Italy and tra
versed the sublime scenery of Switzer
land. About this time, also, between

398

GEORGE BANCROFT.

his eighteenth and his twenty-fourth
year, he wrote a series of translations
m verse, of some of the chief minor
poems of Schiller, Goethe, and other
German authors, which were published
in the " North American Review." He
furnished, likewise, for the " American
Quarterly Review," edited by the late
Robert Walsh, a number of articles,
marked by their academic and philo
sophic spirit ; among others, a striking
paper on the Doctrine of Tempera
ments; a kindred philosophical essay
on Ennui, and papers on Poland and
Russia, of historical sagacity and pene
tration. In 1824, he published a trans
lation of Heeren's Reflections on the
Politics of Ancient Greece. He also
brought before the public other works
of Heeren on the States of antiquity,
and the political system of Europe and
its colonies, from the discovery of Ame
rica to the termination of the struggle
for freedom of the British colonies.
At the outset, Mr. Bancroft's studies
were directed to theology, and " he
preached," says Mr. Allibone in his
" Dictionary of English Literature,"
" several discourses which produced a
favorable opinion of his talents in this
department; but a love of literature
proved the stronger attachment." From
the bent of his mind, we may presume,
had he continued in that relation, he
would have distinguished himself by
his metaphysical speculations. His
able discourse on Jonathan Edwards,
read before the New York Historical
Society, and published in " Appleton's
Cyclopaedia," is an indication of the
fineness and strength of his powers in
this theological direction.

In 1822, and the following year, im
mediately after his return from Europe,
we find Mr. Bancroft's name on the list
of tutors at Harvard College, where he
gave instruction in Greek. He was
subsequently employed in the work of
education in association with Dr. Joseph
G. Cogswell, the eminent librarian of
the Astor Library, in the conduct of
the Round Hill School, at Northamp
ton, Massachusetts. All this while he
was an earnest student of politics, in
history and the national life around
him. His views led him to embrace
the principles of the Democratic party,
then in the ascendant, under the strong
influence of General Jackson's successful
administration. He became an advo
cate of the party doctrines, promoted
its interests, and was rewarded by Pre
sident Van Buren, in 1838, with the
collectorship of the port of Boston
He held the office for three years, dis
charging its duties with his accustomed
earnestness. In 1844, he was the can
didate of the Democratic minority in
Massachusetts, for the office of Governor
of the State. In the following year he
was called by President Polk to assist
in his cabinet as Secretary of the
Navy, and marked the brief period
devoted to his new duties, by the es
tablishment of the Naval School at
Annapolis, and his care of the astro
nomical observatory at the Capitol
In 1846, he was appointed Minister Ple
nipotentiary to Great Britain, holding
the office for three years, accomplish
ing, among other diplomatic business,
an important modification of the British
restrictions in their Navigation Laws.
i On his return to the United States

GEORGE BANCROFT.

399

he established his residence in the city
of New York.
He now devoted himself earnestly to
his great work, "The History of the
United States from the Discovery of
the American Continent." The first
volume was written during his resi
dence at Northampton, and was pub
lished in 1834; a second, completed
during a residence at Springfield, fol
lowed in 1837, and a third in 1840; so
that the author carried with him to
England a reputation as an historian.
His labors were welcomed by EdAvard
Everett in the "North American Re
view," and by Professor Heeren in
Germany. " We know tow modern his
toric works," said the latter, " in which
the author has reached so high an ele
vation at once as an historical inquirer
and an historical writer."
This consciousness of his great work,
the animating impulse of all historians,
from Herodotus to Macauley, has never
failed him. The successive volumes of
the series have, if possible, increased
the author's care and responsibility.
The gratitude of the public has warmed
him to new labors. His political career
and residence abroad as ambassador, so
far from interrupting his toils, only
added a weight of experience of direct
profit to the historian, with whom a
practical knowledge of affairs is of the
first importance. Resuming the record
in 1852j with the publication of the
fourth volume, which traces the period
from 1748, the author advanced rapidly
to the fifth and sixth, the last of which
brought the narrative to the immediate
commencement of the Revolution, pre

ceding the actual outbreak in Massa
chusetts. This was published in 1854
In 1858 the work was resumed Avith
the History of the Revolution, of which
the second volume, the eighth of the
whole Avork, appeared in 1860. Its
progress in events, as the theatre of
action has been enlarged, has been at
tended with a proportionate increase
of power and interest, a result which
might naturally be expected, as the
author approaches his own time and
sweeps into the vast world of modern
European diplomacy, where the sove
reigns of Europe, like the deities in
Homer, mingle in the affray, and out
of the vast contest is born the new
American liberty.
In 1855, Mr. Bancroft published a
volume of "Literary and Historical
Miscellanies," including several of the-
early compositions to which Ave haATe
already alluded, with the addition of
several occasional addresses, among
them an oration commemorative of An
drew Jackson, and an anniversary dis
course before the New York Historical
Society, on "The Necessity, the Reality,
and the Promise of the Progress of the
Human Race," one of the most elabo
rate of his philosophical essays. To
this enumeration we may add his lec
tures on "The Culture, the Support,
and the Object of Art in a Republic,"
" The Office, appropriate Culture, and
Duty of the Mechanic," an historical
oration at the celebration of the Battle
of King's Mountain, in 1855, and a
brief oration at Cleveland, Ohio, at the
inauguration of a statue of Commodore
Perry.

EDWARD EVERETT.

A life of honorable mental activity
of no common order is presented to
us in the career of Edward Everett.
From early youth he is found always
in some distinguished sphere of action,
not inharmoniously reconciling pursuits
seldom united, by his countrymen. He
brings from his study the fruits of
quiet and retired scholarship to orna
ment the utilitarian necessities of the
day-;— a man. of taste and elegance in
letters, it has been his fortune to be
deeply engaged in public affairs— from
his pOAvers of mind and ; qualifications,
he might be a professor, a preacher, a
poet, an essayist, a' consummate orator, a
popular writer, a legislator, a cabinet
minister, an ambassador, the head of a
college, or the head of a State : nay,
he has been all these and honorably
celebrated in each.
He was born in Dorchester, Massa
chusetts, April llth, 1794. His father,
Oliver Everett, known as a clergyman
and occupant at one time of the pulpit
of the Old South Church; in Boston,
and subsequently as Judge of the Court
of Common Pleas for Norfolk, belonged
to a family which had lived in the
town of Dedham from the first settle
ment of the country. " My forefathers,"
Baid on one occasion the subject of our

sketch, "were very humble men-
farmers and mechanics— arid devoted
themselves to a mos't unambitious career.
They left nothing to their descendants,
of either faine or fortune, but a good
name." Edward Everett thus sprang
from the heart Of the yeomanry of New
England, and his boyhood was edu
cated under her most wholesome in
fluences. The accomplished scholar, and
orator is emphaticallylthe child of ber
public schools, of which he has so often
sung the praises and seconded the en
deavors. He began at three years of
age with a primer in his hand at the
free village school of Dorchester; and
while quite a child in that town, ap
pears to have attracted attention by
his cleverness and aptness at recitation,
for we find that excellent scholar and
most estimable man, the Rev. Thaddeus
Mason Harris, writing a simple apo
logue expressly to be spoken at a pub
lic recitation by the little orator. . He
Avas next introduced- to the schools of
Boston, where he had, among other
preceptors, Ezekiel Webster, the elder
brother of the , statesman, and took a
turn at the memorable old Latin school
then under the rule of Master Bigelow.
Thence he passed to the famous Exeter
Academy under the superintendence

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EDWARD EVERETT.

401

of Dr Abbott, to whose long services
it has been his fortune in after life to
pay a grateful tribute ; and, after six
months' preparation at this institution,
entered Harvard College in 1807, at the
early age of thirteen, the youngest mem
ber of his class. He was noted as a stu
dent beyond the range of his prescribed
studies, and as a chief contributor to a
college magazine, published by the un
dergraduates, called the "Harvard Lyce
um." His accomplished scholarship was
thus already felt and appreciated when
he graduated in due course with the
highest honors of his class. The topics
of his commencement and subsequent
Master of Arts address, "Literary Evils,"
and the "Restoration of Greece," exhibit
the two-fold tendency of his mind as a
man of letters and man of affairs.
In 1&L2, the year after his gradua
tion, he became tutor in the college,
holding the position till 1814, mean
while increasing his reputation with
the public by' the delivery of a Phi
Beta Kappa poem on "American
Poets," in which he handled the aims
and objects, the encouragements and
discouragements of an embryo race of
bards, whose prospects were for a long
time a subject of discussion. They
have since entered the field in a. body,
proved their title to respect, and their
claims are admitted as a matter of
course, according to their deserts. Mr.
Everett has lived to see this develop
ment alike with other branches of our
literature, and no one deserves more
credit for supporting nascent author
ship in its infancy by his praises and
example, and preparing the public
mind for its full advent. The pro

phecies of his Phi Beta Kappa poem
of 1812 of the coming time,
When bards will spring beneath our natire skies,
and the native nomenclature of woods
and mountains be subdued by the poet's
art, has been realized beyond his con
ception. A tutorship at Harvard is an excel
lent resting-place to secure and perfect
previous study and -training, and look
out upon the world for future occupa
tion in professional life. Mr. Everett's
first choice, we are told, was the bar;
the influence of his friend and pastor
the amiable and all-accomplished
Joseph Stephens Buckminster, deter
mined his preference of divinity. He
accordingly, while still a tutor, deA;0ted
himself to clerical studies, and was so
highly thought of that on the 'death of
his lamented adviser just named, he
was appointed his successor, in the
Brattle street Church. This was in
1813, before he was twenty. The next
year gave birth to his first prose publi
cation, a volume entitled a " Defence of
Christianity against the Work of
George B. English, entitled the Grounds
of Christianity examined by comparing
the New Testament with the Old."
English was a graduate of Harvard, a
man of some education and various
accomplishments, who became a vagrant
adventurer of war and diplomacy in
Egypt and the Levant. His Hebrew
reading appears to have turned his
head in his earlier days, and it was to
answer his vagaries that Everett pub
lished his volume.
Everett's pulpit eloquence in Boston,

402

EDWARD EVERETT.

and in occasional discourses of a later
date, is remembered by his friends with
admiration of his powers. Judge Story,
who heard him in 1820, at Washing
ton, at the capitol, records in his cor
respondence his appreciation of his elo
quence and pathos as he spoke of the
brevity of life, and " introduced beauti
ful extracts from his sermon on the
Future Prospects of America," while
an equally excellent authority, Senator
Rufus King, of New York, who was
present, remarked " that he had never
heard a discourse so full of unction,
eloquence, and good taste." * It is noAV
long since Mr. Everett has lifted his
voice in a pulpit, at least in his clerical
capacity, but a new generation of
listeners may, doubtless, gather an ex
cellent idea of his old triumphs in this
field by his skillful and eloquent address
on Charity, which he has of late years
occasionally delivered, equally to the
. delight and improvement of his large
audiences and the welfare of the bene
ficiaries, to relieve whose necessities he
has spoken.
The Brattle street congregation in
1814, was enjoying the eloquence of
the gifted young preacher, but Harvard,
his alma mater, was not disposed to
relinquish her hold upon her favorite
son. In that year he was chosen by
the Corporation to the post of Eliot
Professor of Greek Literature, then
newly created, and according to a
liberal and enlightened provision of
the institution, equally beneficial to the
man and the scholar, was allowed time
for a preliminary course of travel and

1 Loring's Hundred Boston Orators, p. 53-t.

instruction in Europe. He accepted
the position, and in 1815, left for the
old world to pass a period of four years
abroad, a new noviciate in the society
of Great Britain, the training of Ger
man scholarship, and an instructive
tour through the central and southern
portions of the continent. He was two
years at Gottingen, where he received
his Doctorate in 1817. He passed the
winters Of that and the succeeding
year in Paris. The next season he was
in England and Scotland, making the
acquaintance of Sir Walter Scott, Byron,
Jeffrey, Mackintosh, and other lights
of the age, in politics, literature, and
science. His occasional reminiscences
of this intercourse in the " Mount Ver
non Papers," and other publications,
show his appreciation of these oppor
tunities, and the extent of his useful
occupation in the pursuit of knowledge.
His eminent friendships were the index
of his studies of every liberal art, of
languages, jurisprudence, government,
and the myriad forms of literature.
In 1819, he returned home after a
most profitable disposition of his time,
engaged in the active duties of his pro
fessorship, and joined to them the
editorship of the "North American
Review." The latter occupation gave
full scope to his various attainments and
sympathies. He brought with him to
the work not only a keen appreciation
of all foreign topics, but the most
ardent desire to establish the claims of
his countrymen before the world. His
discussion of the merits and demerits of
British travellers, in America in parti
cular, exhibited his anxiety to defend
the country from the injurious attacks

EDWARD EVERETT.

403

of prejudice and calumny; while his
papers on art, science, education, foreign
literature, showed him equally sensitive
to all that would improve and enlighten
his own land in foreign culture. A
translation of Buttman's Greek .Gram
mar was another of his literary labors
of this period. The first of those de
monstrative addresses which have given
to Mr. Everett a peculiar rank in con
temporary oratory, was spoken by him
at Cambridge, before the Phi Beta Kap
pa Society, in 1824. His subject was
one to which he had given considerable
thought, the " Circumstances favorable
to the Progress of Literature in Ame
rica." The year in which this address was
delivered introduced Mr. Everett to
public life as a member of Congress
from Middlesex, a new sphere of duty
which brought to a close his career as
a professor. He held his position in
the House of Representatives for ten
years, by successive reelections, being
during the entire period a member of the
Committee for Foreign Affairs, and for
two sessions its chairman. His reports
on the Panama Mission, and the contro
versy ' with France, are remembered
among his labors of the department,
which were various and important.
His speeches were prepared with care
and were noted not less for their in
dustry than their elegant propriety.
From Congress Mr. Everett was taken,
in 1834, to fill the office of Governor
of Massachusetts, and was continued
in this relation by annual elections for
four years. He would have remained
a fifth had he not been defeated by a
single vote, the majority of his oppo

nent, Marcus Morton. This period of
his official life was marked by a con
siderable development of the resources
of his native State, especially in the
departments of education and agricul
tural surveys and law reform — matters
in all of which his influence and ex
ertions were prominent. The public
orations and addresses .delivered by
him during his career as Governor,
show his readiness to serve the public
outside the range of his peculiar duties.
Some of his best educational discources
were pronounced at this time.
On his release from the office of
Governor in 1839, he made prepara
tions for a visit to Europe with his
family — he had married in 1832, the
daughter of the Hon. Peter C. Brooks,
a wealthy merchant of Boston — and
sailed the following year. He had
-passed one winter in Italy, and was
meditating a sojourn in the same region
during another, when he was called by
the new administration at home, to the
mission to England. He entered upon
these duties in 1841, and bore a dis
tinguished part in the complicated
discussions respecting the north-eastern
boundary, the Canadian difficulties, and
other vexed questions threatening to
disturb the peace of the two countries.
There were various changes in the
foreign department at home, but Mr.
Everett continued to represent the
country at London till 1845. On his
return to America at this date, he was
chosen President of Harvard College,
filling the interval of three years in the
government of that institution, between
Josiah Quincy and Jared Sparks, who
was his successor in 1849.

404

EDWARD EVERETT.

Mr. Everett now availed himself of
the opportunity of an interval of leisure
to revise and edit a collection of his
orations and speeches. A single volume
of the kind had been published in
1836 ; it was now, with the subsequent
productions of the author, submitted
to careful criticism. The collection in
cludes eighty-one separate orations,
speeches, addresses, varying from the
brief dinner remarks or response to a
sentiment, to the elaborate discussion
of a political or scientific theme on an
anniversary or State occasion. There
are the opening Phi Beta Kappa ad
dress on Literature ; numerous papers
on American history, " The Settlement
of Massachusetts," " The Seven Year|'j
War the School of the Revolution,"
" Anecdotes of Early Local History,"
" The First Battles of the Revolutionary
War," and the like, showing that if the
orator had not chosen to be a statesman
he might have been the historian of his
country ; a separate series of semi-scien
tific papers addressed to working men
and agriculturists ; earnest and affec
tionate advocacy of educational and
intellectual advantages ; eloquent eulo
gies on Lafayette, Bowditch, Lowell,
John Quincy Adams. There is hardly
a topic arising out of these various
themes which he has not touched upon;
he has touched on none which he has
not adorned.
Mr. Everett's next official duty was
as Secretary of State under President
Fillmore, in 1852, on the death of his
friend Daniel Webster — a short period
of service distinguished by • several
foreign negotiations of importance,
especially the consideration of the tri

partite convention with England and .
France, guaranteeing to Spain the per
manent possession of Cuba. He pre
pared the state paper on this occasion,
declining the proposition. In the ses
sion succeeding his appointment to the
Secretaryship, having in the mean time,
been elected by the Legislature of
Massachusetts, he took his seat in
the Senate of the United States. On
the next meeting of that body in De
cember, he found his health seriously
affected, but continued through the la
bors of an exhausting session, follow
ing the debates on the Nebraska Kansas
bill, till he was compelled in May to
resign his seat by the command of his
physician. It was not, however, in the nature
of Mr. Everett to be idle, though look
ing to his fortune, education, and tastes,
the charms of his ample library and the
sources of his distinguished friendships;
above all, to his successful achievements
in various departments of noble .ex
ertion, there are few men, we should
say, to whom the luxury of learned re
pose would be mote attractive, as there
are few who could more honorably
claim its enjoyment This, however, is
not the plea or the indulgence of Mr.
Everett, whose private life, within the
last few years, has introduced him to a
new field of labors altogether unique,
in the annals of literature and elo
quence. The part borne by him in the
purchase of Mount Vernon, the homo
of Washington, to be held as a perpe
tual gift to the people of the United
States, and most endearing monument
of the Father of his Country, is fami
liarly known to the public in its man

EDWARD EVERETT.

405

ner and results, as its extraordinary
details will remain a subject of admira
tion for posterity. Within a period of
three years, from the twenty-second of
February, 1856, the date of the first
delivery of Mr. Everett's Oration on
Washington, he repeated this com
position to large audiences in various
portions of the country, no less than
one hundred and nineteen times, pro
ducing for the fund the important sum
of nearly fifty-seven thousand dollars.
The circumstances which led to this
undertaking were somewhat accidental,
the oration delivered by Mr. Everett
not having been prepared originally
for this object. In the autumn of 1855,
he was invited by the Boston Mercantile
Library Association to deliver a lecture
in their approaching course. Having
accepted the invitation, and thinking
the several visits of Washington to
Boston a striking and appropriate sub
ject, he proposed the theme to himself
for an address before the society on the
twenty-second of February, with the
understanding that the proceeds of the
delivery were to be applied to some com
memorative purpose ; and they were
actually thus applied to the purchase
of a copy for the Institution, of Stuart's
full length portrait of Washington at
Newport. In the meantime a second
application for an address reached Mr.
Everett from a society in Richmond,
Virginia. He replied that he would
repeat the Washington address before
them for the benefit of the "Ladies'
Mount Vernon Association," the con
stitution and plan of which had just
attracted his attention in the " National
Intelligencer." This was a society
ii.— 51

which had grown out of a suggestion
for the purchase of Mount Vernon by
private subscription made by Miss Ann
Pamela Cunningham, of South Caro
lina, in 1853, a lady who enforced her
views in an address to her countrymen
widely circulated in the newspapers,
signed "A Southern Matron." Mr.
Everett's offer was, of course accepted,
arid in this way the repetition of his
discourse began.
It has constantly been a source of de
light to the public to hear Mr. Everett.
His reputation as an orator, his grace
ful action, the charm T)f his glowing
eloquence, the interest of his subject
matter, the skill Avith which he ever
blends the useful and agreeable have
always found attention, and when it
was found that he might be secured
at call — for the sake of the patriotic
object on which he was bent — applica
tions came to him from all parts of the
country. At first he did not entertain
the idea of any very extensive delivery
of the oration and did not stipulate for
the precise appropriation of the funds
collected, which he afterwards made a
requisite. In every case, however, they
were bestowed upon some public ob
ject ' Finding the matter grow upon
his hands, he gave up his time and at
tention to the work, and, with the zeal
and labor of a neophyte making his
private fortune in* a prosperous run of
luck, organized journeys at different
times, from Maine to Georgia, crossing
and recrossing the highways of Ahe
country by sea and land, on more than
one occasion being called upon to re
peat the lecture on the same spot. It
has thus been four times delivered at

406

EDWARD EVERETT.

New York and Philadelphia to unfail
ing audiences.1
The Address itself is marked by
many of the most attractive qualities
of Mr. Everett's style. It abounds
with the orator's favorite rhetorical
amplifications of fact and reasoning, is
eminently picturesque, and, indeed,
owes much of its charm to a series of
brilliant historical tableaux, in the pre
sentation of which no one has ever ex
celled the orator. The comparison of
Washington, to several of the great
generals of antiquity and Of modern
times, including a withering sketch of
Marlborough, bringing off Washington
the moral victor by the symmetry of
his character,, constitutes, perhaps, the
happiest portion of the address.
In addition to this oratorical labor,
Mr. Everett imposed upon himself the
qnerous obligation of writing fifty-two
consecutive essays for a weekly mis
cellaneous newspaper, the " New York
Ledger," for the express purpose of
adding the considerable sum of ten
thousand dollars to the fund. The
money was paid in advance by the pub
lisher, and contributed to that object,
Mr. Everett never failing to produce
his stated quota of manuscript for his
"Mount Vernon Papers," as he entitled
them, till the whole were finished. They
consist of sketches of different portions
of Washington's life,- of historical and
other essays, and largely of reminis
cences of European travel, and inter-
- An enumeration of various interesting facts connected
with the delivery of this Washington Discourse, by Mr.
Everett, will be found in his remarks on the subject be
fore the Massachusetts' Historical Society, published in the
Proceedings of that body for June, 1858.

course with eminent foreign authors and
statesmen. AH are written with the
accomplished orator's accustomed ease
and interesting statement of facts; Mr.
Everett never speaking or writing with
out a useful object, and enforcing it
upon the attention by some valuable
circumstance or anecdote.
While these various labors, too, have
been in progress, Mr. Everett has de
livered other discourses for public ob
jects, including an " Address on Charity
and Charitable Institutions," already
alluded to, the delivery of which on
sixteen occasions, has produced thirteen
thousand five hundred dollars for bene
volent purposes; while an oration on
the "Early days of Franklin" has
reaped a similar harvest of bounty. In
about three years the sum total real
ized for charitable and patriotic objects,
from the addresses delivered by Mr.
Everett, reached the enormous sum of
ninety thousand dollars. Was ever be
fore such a sum of money earned with
so much of benefit and pleasure to the
public, and delivered to them again in
the creation of such lasting and wel
come means of instruction and enjoy
ment ? Trees will rise and grass will
grow as generations to come will visit
the banks of the Potomac, grateful to
Mr. Everett for their patriotic satisfac
tion, and his honeyed, eloquence will
still whisper in the breezes which blow
over the hallowed spot. How many
volumes, too, sources of perennial de
light, has he summoned by his words to
the shelves of public libraries in our
large cities; how much suffering has
been relieved by his charitable appeals !
Few scholars, few statesmen, have the

EDWARD EVERETT.

407

privilege of pointing to such beneficent
employment of their leisure.
The issue of a third volume of his
collected orations and speeches (in 1859)
has been among the employments of
Mr. Everett's later years. Its forty-
three somewhat miscellaneous papers
show no. abatement but rather an in
crease of the powers of their prede
cessors. There is the same devotion to
American history, to education, the
academy, and the public school, to the
interests of the mechanic -and of the
farmer, the same careful and exalted
eulogy of departed greatness — exhibit
ing the orator ever ready to respond to
any worthy appeal which comes to him
feathered with the claims of patriotism,
literature, and benevolence.
The year 1860 opened a new period
of Mr. Everett's life, in the political
crisis terminating in the ascendancy of
the Republican party. In the Presi
dential election of that year he was
put forward as a candidate for Vice-
President on the Ticket with Mr. BeU,
of Tennessee, as the representative of a
certain moderate national conservatism.
Success in the struggle with three well-
marked political organizations, repre
sented by Lincoln, Breckinridge, and
Douglas, was not to be anticipated ; nor
did Mr. Everett look for any different
result. Having in the course of his political
career exerted his endeavors to preserve
peace to his country — when war was
forced upon it, he accepted the issue
with equanimity, and devoted his best
powers to support the nation in its day
of trial. On more than one occasion, to

public assemblies and to gathering of
troops for the field, has he spoken to
assure the hopes of the citizen and ani
mate the courage of" the soldier. His
address in particular, delivered at the
Academy of Music, New York, on the
4th of July, 1861, presents a masterly
picture of the origin and true nature of
the war. This was followed at an im
portant crisis of the war by his delivery,
at the request of the Governors of nine-1
teen loyal States, of an oration on the
occasion of the consecration of the na
tional cemetery on the battle-field of
Gettysburgh — an oration which recalls
the similar commemoration of the dead
by Pericles at Athens in the Pelopon-
nesian war. As the war wore on, Mr.
Everett lost no suitable opportunity to
confirm the hearts of his countrymen in
the great struggle for national existence
in which they were engaged. His last
appearance in public was to serve the
cause of charity and reconciliation in a
brief speech at Faneuil Hall, Boston, at
a meeting called to procure assistance
for the needy citizens of Savannah, then
recently captured by the army of Gen
eral Sherman. A few days after this
event, on the morning of Sunday, Jan
uary 15, 1865, Mr. Everett was stricken
by apoplexy, which caused his imme
diate death. The event was announced
to the nation in an official order ' from
Washington by the Secretary of State,
Mr. Seward, at the request of President
Lincoln, commemorating the "learning
and eloquence and unsurpassed and dis
interested labors of patriotism' of the
deceased.

GEORGE BRINTON MoCLELLAN.

Majob Geneeal McGlellak, of the
United States Army,- was born in Phila
delphia, Pa., December 3, 1826. His
father, as the .name indicates, of
Scottish descent, of a family originally
settled in New. England, was' an emi
nent physician and surgeon of that
city, distinguished, it is said, alike
by the boldness and skill of his ope
rations. Having pursued his studies
at the University of Pennsylvania,
the son, at the age of sixteen, en
tered the West- Point Military Aca
demy, Avhence he graduated with high
honor, second of his class, in 1846, and
was appointed second-lieutenant of en
gineers. It was the period of the war
with Mexico, whither he was imme
diately ordered on duty, as lieutenant
of a newly-organized company of sap
pers, miners, and pontoon constructors,
which he had assisted in drilling at
West Point. Joining the column of
General Taylor on the Rio Grande, the
company was presently sent, by way
of Tampico, to Vera Cruz, where it
bore a prominent part in the siege of
that city, the active duties of the com.:
mand, in consequence of the illness of
the captain, falling upon Lieutenant
Gustavus W' Smith and his associate,
McClellan. The company Avas equally
efficient in the advance toward the

capital, as the reports of Colonel Totten
General Twiggs, and other officers beai
ample testimony. For his gallant and
meritorious conduct at the battles of
Contreras and Cherubuseo, McClellan
was brevetted first-lieutenant, and cap
tain for like services at Molmo.-del Rey.
He declined the latter at the time ; but
his claim to promotion was renewed by
his distinguished services at Chapul-
tepec, which gained for him a special
tribute of honor in a despatch of Gene
ral Scott, in which he was commended
with his fellow-engineer officer and
future competitor on a very different
field, Lieutenant Beauregard. He now-
received the rank of captain, presently
took command of his company, and,
the Avar being ended, returned, to West
Point, where he was engaged as cap
tain of field labors and instructor of the
bayonet exercise. Li connection with
these duties, he translated from the
French a " Manual of Bayonet Exer
cise," Avhich was adopted for use in the
army. In the summer and autumn of
1851, he was employed in superintend
ing the construction of Fort DelaAvare,
and in the spring of the following year
accompanied Captain Marcy, Avhose
daughter he subsequently married, in
an exploring expedition to the Red
River. He was thence ordered as

403

GEORGE BRINTON Mc CLE LLAN.

409

senior engineer on the staff of General
Persifer F. Smith, to a survey of the
rivers and harbors of Texas. He was
next engaged, in 1853, under command
of Governor Stevens of Washington
Territory, in the survey of the North
Pacific Railway route, the results of
which were pronounced by the Secre
tary of War, Jefferson Davis, " highly
creditable to his capacity and re
sources." His report Avas published in
a quarto volume by the Government,
the first in the series of the Pacific
Railroad Surveys. After further em
ployment as an engineer in preliminary
investigations relating to the railway
to the Pacific and the performance of a
secret Government mission to the West
Indies, having now attained the full
rank of captain in the first cavalry, he
was, in 1855, commissioned by the
Secretary of War, Jefferson Davis, in
company with Colonel Delafield and-
Major Mordecai, "to visit Europe for
the purpose of obtaining information in
regard to the military service in general,
and especially the practical working of
the changes which have been intro
duced of late years into the military
systems of the principal nations of
Europe."1 The report of Captain
McClellan's survey, including a series
of observations in the Crimea, was
published by the United States Gov
ernment on his return, in an elaborate
quarto volume on the " Organization
of European Armies and the Conduct
of the War." The edition of this work
issued by Congress being soon ex
hausted, it was republished by the

1 Order of Jefferson Davis, Secretary of War, Washing
ton, April 2, 1855.

author in Philadelphia, in 1861, with
the title " The Armies of Europe, com
prising Descriptions in detail of the
Military Systems of England, France,
Russia, Prussia, Austria, and Sardinia."
Having resigned "his commission in
the army, in 1857, Captain McClellan
was for three years employed as Vice-
President and Engineer of the Illinois
and Central Railroad, when he became
General Superintendent, and shortly
after President of the Ohio and Missis
sippi Railroad. The outbreak of the
Rebellion found him in the discharge
of the duties of this office, from which
he was called by the Governor of Ohio,
to organize the volunteer forces of that
State, with the rank of major-general.
He was presently, May 14th, 1861,
appointed a major-general of the Regu
lar Army, and placed in command of
the Department of the Ohio, comprising
all of the States of Illinois, Indiana, and
Ohio, and that part of Virginia north of
the Great Kenawha River, and west of
the Green Brier River and the Maryland
line, with part of Pennsylvania. Rapidly
organizing his forces at his head-quar
ters at Cincinnati, General McClellan
crossed the Ohio in June, and after a
series of preliminary movements, came
up with the main army of the enemy
in Western Virginia, under Colonel
Pegram, at Rich Mountain, a spur of
the Alleghanies, in Randolph County.
General Rosecrans was sent by a cir
cuitous route to flank the enemy in
their position, while General McClellan
was ready to attack them in front.
The former movement was entirely suc
cessful. One portion of the rebel army
surrendered at once; the remainder

410

GEORGE BRINTON .McCLELLAN.

was utterly routed on its retreat. This
engagement, brilliantly closing a short
campaign, took place on the llth of
July. Ten days after occurred the dis
aster to the Union forces at Bull Run,
when General McClellan, on the instant,
was called to Washington to the com
mand of the Army of the Potomac.
He Avas now for three months em
ployed in organizing and rendering
effective the forces suddenly called into
the field, when, on the 1st of Novem
ber, on the retirement of General Scott,
from advanced age and infirmities, he
became his successor as General-in-
Chief. In this capacity he passed the
following winter completing the de
fences of Washington, accumulating
military supplies, especially of artillery,
and preparing his force, now swelled to
the largest army ever gathered on the
continent, for a decisive movement in
the spring. The long expected advance
of the Army of the Potomac against
the enemy before Washington, Avas
made at the beginning of March, 1862,
when the Confederates retreated from
the line of Bull Run and Manassas, in
the direction of Richmond. ' It had
been General McClellan's design, by a
sudden transfer of his forces to the
Yorktown peninsula, to. anticipate this
movement for the defence of the Con
federate capital, for the capture of
which there had been a steady outcry
from the beginning of the war. He
now, therefore, embarked the main
portion of his army at Alexandria,
landed in the vicinity of Fortress Mon
roe, and proceeded to the siege of
Yorktown, where the enemy were
found to be in force, and well fortified.

The gathering of his army and' the en
gineering operations before this place
occupied a month, when, on the eve
of opening his batteries, the enemy
duly impressed by the means at his
command, on the night of May 3d,
evacuated the elaborate series of Avorks
which they had constructed. The
town was taken possession of, and the
army, after driving the enemy from
their fortified lines at Williamsburgh,
and meeting them in the neighborhood
of West Point, on the York River,
advanced from the latter position,
whence its supplies were drawn, to the
Chicahominy River, in the immediate
ATicinity of Richmond. There, on the
last day of the month, was fought the
battle of Seven Pines. The Union
forces were overpowered by superior
numbers, but repulsed the enemy in the
renewal of the engagement the next
day, at Fair Oaks. The Union - army
having suffered severe loss from its un
wholesome position, the severity of the
climate, and the hardships of the cam
paign, and its communications being,
moreover, in danger, General McClellan
resolved upon the withdraAval of his
forces to a new base of operations on
the James River. On the 24th of June,
the evacuation of White House was
commenced, and from that day to< the
1st of July, were fought a series of des
perate battles on both banks of the
Chickahominy, and on the line of re
treat through the White Oak SAvamp,
ending with a decided victory for the
Union forces at the battle of Malvern
Hill, near the James River.
General McClellan now called for re
inforcements to continue the campaign

GEORGE BRINTON MoCLELLAN.

411

before Richmond/but the safety of the
capital, in the judgment of the President
and General Halleck, the new General-
in-Chief, required the presence of the
army in Virginia to swell the forces of
General Pope, who was now holding the
line of the Rappahannock. The Army
of the Potomac was accordingly with
drawn from the Peninsula to Acquia
Creek, and a considerable portion of it
Avas engaged in the series of battles
covering the retreat of General Pope
to the fortifications of Washington, of
which General McClellan was placed in
command. On the immediate transfer
of General Pope to another department,
General McClellan was restored to the
command of his old army, with which
he presently, in September, advanced
to meet the Confederate General, Lee,
who had now crossed the Potomac in
his determined invasion of Maryland.
Driving the enemy from Frederick,
General McClellan came up with th en
forces at the South Mountain, on the
fourteenth, defeated them in a double
attack, and pushing on, brought them

to a decisive action, on the sixteenth
and seventeenth, on the banks of
Antietam Creek. The enemy were
defeated with heavy loss, and hastily
retreating to the Potomac, crossed
the river into Virginia. Thus ended
Lee's first invasion of Maryland. Gene
ral McClellan now remained for a
few weeks in Maryland, when, in Oc
tober, he again took the field in pur
suit of the. enemy. Advancing from
Harper's Ferry along the eastern side
of the Blue Ridge, he had reached the
vicinity of Warrenton with the bulk
of his army, when, on the 7th of No
vember, he was relieved of the com
mand of the Army of the Potomac.
Taking leave of his troops in a farewell
address, in which he expressed a warm
affection for "the army which had
grown up under his care, and in which
he had never found doubt or coldness,"
he proceeded to the North, and has
since — up to the present time, August,
1863 — mainly resided, without being
called to active service, at his new
home in the city of New York.

HENRY WAGER HALLECK.

Majoe-Geneeal Halleck, of the
United States Army, General-in-chief
of the national forces in the War for
the Union, was born in Westernville, a
town on the Mohawk River, nearUtica,
in Oneida County, New York, in the
year 1816. On the paternal side, he is
descended from Peter Halleck, of Long
Island; and on the maternal, from
Henry Wager, an intimate friend of
Baron Steuben, and one of the early
settlers of central New York. After
the usual academy instruction, and pur
suing his studies for a while in Union
College, Schenectady, at the age of nine
teen, he entered the Military Academy
at West Point, where he occupied a
distinguished position, graduating in
1839, third in a class of thirty-one, and
receiving the appointment of second-
lieutenant in the engineer corps. He
was, for the ensuing year, assistant pro
fessor of engineering at the Academy.
In 1840-4, he was a member of the
Board of Engineers at Washington, and
for the two succeeding years was en
gaged as assistant engineer on the forti
fications in New York harbor. His
pen was employed meanwhile in the
preparation, of a treatise on "Bitumen,"
publishei in 1841, particularly with
reference to its employment in the con
struction of casemates and the masonry

of forts ; and in an elaborate report on
the means of National Defence, which
he submitted to the War Department
in 1843, and which was called for and
published by the Senate.
In 1844, Lieutenant. Halleck visited
Europe with the object of adding to his
knowledge of his profession' by study
of the military establishments of the
old world, and, with their usual cour
tesy, was aided in his observations by
eminent French engineers. In Janu
ary, 1845, he was promoted to a first
lieutenancy in the engineer corps, and
in the winter of 1845-6 was engaged ir
the delivery of a series of lectures upon
the Science of War, before the Lowell
Institute of Boston, the substance of
which was embodied in a comprehen
sive work, which he published the fol
lowing season, on "The Elements of
Military Art and Science ; or, a Course
of Instruction in Strategy, Fortifica
tions, Tactics of Battles, etc. ; embrac
ing the Duties of Staff, Infantry, Ca
valry, Artillery, and Engineers. Adapt
ed to the use of Volunteers and Mili
tia." In an introductory chapter, the
author, vindicating the claims and ne
cessities of patriotism and the laws for
the preservation of States, discusses the
question of the "Justifiableness of
War," in reference to certain positions

412

HENRY WAGER HALLECK.

413

taken by the Rev. Dr. Wayland, in his
treatise on "Moral Philosophy," on the
side of non-resistance. "No preten
sion," says the author in his preface to
this useful and interesting volume, " is
made to originality in any part of the
work ; the sole object having been to
embody, in a small compass, Avell esta
blished military principles, and to illus
trate these by reference to the events
of past history, and the opinions and
practice of the best generals."
On the opening of the Mexican War,
Lieutenant Halleck was ordered to Ca
lifornia, where he arrived, by the way
of Cape Horn, at Monterey, in January,
1847, when he was at once employed
in erecting-defences for that harbor and
other points of the coast. His admin
istrative abilities were not neglected
by General Kearney, then in command
of the United States forces in the re
gion, and he was by him, in the ensu
ing August, appointed Secretary of
State in the mixed civil and military
government Avhich then prevailed. He
continued to hold this position under
the administrations of Generals Mason
and Riley to the close of the year 1849.
While discharging this duty, and that
of engineer, he was also for a time aid-
de-camp to Commodore Shubrick • in
many of the naval and military opera
tions of that season, at Mazatlan and
elsewhere. He took part in the actions
of Palos Prietos and Urias, Nov. 19th
and 20th, 1847, for his gallantry in
Avhich, and other services in California,
he was brevetted captain ; and was also,
in the following spring, engaged in the
actions of San Antonio and Todos San
tos. n.— 52

i

The civil duties which he had per
formed in connection with the military
conquest of California, naturally caused
Captain^ Halleck to be invited, when
the war was ended, to a prominent
part in the organization of the neAV
State. He became a member, in 1849,
of the' convention called to form a State
Constitution, the draft of which was
entrusted to his hands, and the instru
ment mainly prepared by him. From
1850 to 1854 he was Light-House In
spector and Engineer and member of
the Board of Engineers for Fortifica
tions on the Pacific. In August of the
latter year, " finding the routine of mili
tary duty in time of peace insufficient
to employ his active mind, promotion
slow, and pay entirely inadequte to his
support," he resigned his commission to
engage in the pursuits of civil life in
California, for which his education and
habits of mind peculiarly qualified him.
He was, in 1855, President of the Pa
cific and Atlantic Railroad from San
Francisco to San Jose, and soon became
known as a lawyer, in which profession
he was actively employed, his acquaint
ance Avith the peculiarities of Spanish
and Mexican law causing him to be
much consulted. In 1859, he published
a " Collection of Mining Laws of Spain
and Mexico," and was. at the same time
engaged in the preparation of an elabo
rate work on the law of nations, to sup
ply a want suggested by his California
experience. He had often, while serv
ing on the staff of Commodore Shu
brick, and as Secretary of State under
the military commanders of the terri
tory, he says, been required to give opi
nions on questions of international law

414

HENRY WAGER HALLECK.

growing out of the operations of the
war. " As it was sometimes," he con
tinues, " difficult or impossible to pro
cure books of reference, except in the
libraries of ships of war which occa
sionally touched at the ports of the
Northern Pacific, he commenced a series
of nott-s and extracts, which were ar
ranged under different heads, conve
nient for use." . In this way he was
led to complete a scientific treatise,
which he published in 1861, entitled
" International Law ; or, Rules Regu
lating the Intercourse of States in Peace
and War." Opening with a review of
the previous literature on the subject, it
proceeds to a discussion of the nature
and sources of the laAV of nations, the
sovereignty of States, their inherent and
mutual rights, their treaty and other
obligations, and the special questions
on land and sea arising out of a state
of war.
While finishing this work, affairs
arose destined to give its doctrines new
importance. The war of the Rebellion
was inaugurated by the attack on Sum
ter, and theories of war and peace be
came of immediate practical moment.
The Government of the United States
had need of all her proved defenders,
and hastened to recall officers of the
old army who had been led into
other occupations to the service of the
country. McClellan, Burnside, and
others were thus summoned on the At
lantic coast, and Captain Halleck, now
¦ — August, 18.61 — commissioned Major-
General of the Regular Army, was re
called from the Pacific. Arriving at
Washington in the autumn, he was im
mediately assigned to the command of

the Department of the Missouri, upon
which he entered in November. His
head-quarters were established at St.
Louis, from which, as a base of opera
tions, he directed the military move
ments in the State. Everything was
in more or less confusion in the unset
tled relations of the country. Armies
were to be put into the field and disaf
fection overcome. Before the close of
the year, the rebel army of Price, threat
ening the interior of the State, had been
defeated and driven with vast loss to
the southern frontier. By a policy "of
blended firmness and consideration the
spirit of insurrection was in a great
measure repressed and the preservation
of the State to the Union assured.
The beginning of the next year wit
nessed the active operations of the army
in the Western Department, resulting
in the victories of Forts Henry and
Donelson, followed by the conquest
of Nashville, the important movements
on the Mississippi, and the operations
in the South-west, carrying the defence
of Missouri to Arkansas, in the battle
of Pea Ridge. The doubtful battle of
Shiloh succeeded in April, immediately
after which General Halleck, having pre
viously been fully occupied in his work
of military organization at St. Louis, in
his enlarged Department of the Missis-
sippi, joined the army at Pittsburgh
Landing. . He now in person directed
the engineering and other movements
which resulted in driving the enemy
from Corinth, and preparing the way
for the advance of the Union forces
into Mississippi. Shortly after this re
sult had been accomplished, he was,
in July, called to Washington to oc

HEKRY WAGEE HALLECK.

41 r>

cupy the position previously held in
turn by Scott and McClellan, of Gene
ral-in-Chief. It wTas a period of great difficulty
and embarrassment, and the new com
mander was called upon to decide vari
ous important questions. The most
pressing of these was the disposition of
the Army of the Potomac, which had
just been compelled to abandon its
menaced attack upon Richmond for a
position of safety on the James River.
Contrary to the remonstrance of Gene
ral McClellan, General Halleck decided
that it should be recalled to the aid of
General Pope in the defence of Wash
ington.- Soon all its remaining strength
was required to repel the army of Lee
in his invasion of Maryland. To nar
rate the subsequent history of General

Halleck's administration through vari
ous vicissitudes of fortune to the bril
liant successful campaign of the sum
mer of 1863, just closed as we write,
would be to repeat the record of the
war. In its further prosecution and
final adjustment there will doubtless
remain ample opportunity for the con
tinued display of the legal abilities and
experience, no less than the military
qualities, which have raised General
Halleck -to his high position.
General Halleck remained in his posi
tion of General-in-Chief until the grade
of Lieutenant-General was revived by
Congress and conferred upon General
Grant, when, at his own request, he was
relieved from duty. After the war he
was appointed to the military depart
ment of the Pacific.

AMBROSE EVERETT BURNSIDE.

Tins officer, who has attained the
highest rank in the volunteer service
of the Un-ited States, and whose high
personal character has seconded his
efforts in the field in raising him to
this distinction, and in securing him
several most important commands, was
born at Liberty, in Union County, In
diana, May 23/1824. His family is
from Scotland, both his grandparents
having emigrated from that country,
about the end of the last century, to
South Carolina Avhere his father was
born, married, and engaged in the prac
tice of the law. The latter removed,
in 1821, to Indiana, where he became
a circuit judge. At the age of eighteen,
his son Ambrose entered the Military
Academy at West Point, graduating in
1847, fifteenth in a class of forty-seven,
when he was appointed second-lieuten
ant in the third artillery. The war
with Mexico being then in progress,
he was ordered to the seat of war
with General Patterson's column, but
arrived too late to participate in the
brilliant action of the campaign. He
rendered efficient service,, however, in
protecting the line of communications.
Returning from Mexico, he was sta
tioned for some time at Fort Adams,
in Newport, Rhode Island, and in 1849
was ordered to New Mexico as first
416

lieutenant in Captain Bragg's' celebrat
ed battery. The command being re
organized as cavalry, Lieutenant Burn
side Avas frequently einployed. in con
flicts Avith the Indians— a service which
has always proved an effective school
in the training of the American officer.
While in NeAV Mexico, he was engaged
(1850-51) as quartermaster in the Mex
ican Boundary Commission. Return
ing to the Atlantic seaboard as bearer
of despatches, he Avas promoted to a
first-lieutenancy at the close of the year
Resigning this rank, in 1853, he made
his residence in Rhode Island, having
married a lady of that State, and .set
up an establishment at Bristol for the
manufacture of a breech-loading rifle,
which he had invented, and for the in
troduction of which into the service he
had, it is said, assurances from the Se
cretary of War, John B. Floyd. Dis
appointed in not receiving the contract
from the Government which he had
expected, he was compelled to relin
quish his manufacturing enterprise with
heavy loss. Removing to the West, he
presently found employment as cashier
in the land office of the Illinois Central
Railroad, and subsequently as treasurer
of the company, the duties of Avhich
he discharged at New York. General
McClellan was at this time at the head

AMBROSE EVERETT liURNSIDE.

417

of the company, and a Avarm friend
ship existed between the two officers.
The war of the Rebellion now break
ing out, Lieutenant Burnside was invited
by Governor Sprague to the command
of a regiment of Rhode Island volun
teers. Promptly accepting the commis
sion, four days after his arrival at Provi
dence he was at the head of his men
on his way to answer the first call of the
President for the defence of the national
capital. Energetically disciplining his
regiment^ he possessed the confidence
of the commander-in-chief, and was as
signed an important part in the battle
of Bull Run, in which he served in
command of the second brigade of Ge
neral Hunter's division. He brought
his troops gallantly into action and
sustained the conflict of the day with
great heroism, as the severe loss of the
Second Rhode Island Regiment in his
command particularly testified. His
services on this occasion were greatly
commended by General McDowell, and
gained him the appointment of briga-
¦dier-general of volunteers; He was,
during the remainder of the summer
of 1861, employed with General McClel
lan in organizing the newly-enlisted
Army of the Potomac, and in October
was appointed to a separate" command
at the head of the expedition pro
jected for the occupation of an impor
tant portion of North Carolina. The
gathering of his forces, chiefly New
England regiments, with the necessary
preparation and equipment, occupied
him at New York for the remainder of
the year ; and it was not till the mid
dle of January, 1862, that " the Burn
side Expedition," composed of about

sixteen thousand troops, with a large
naval force, under flag-officer Golds-
borough, set sail from Fortress Monroe.
The object of the expedition was the
capture of the enemy's forces on Roa
noke Island, and the permanent control
of the waters of Albemarle and Pam
lico Sounds. Unexpected difficulties
were encountered in the passage of
the entrance at Hatteras Inlet, which
proved the energy and perseverance of
General Burnside, who finally, on the
8th of February, in concert with Com
modore Goldsborough, brought his
forces into action, in the battle of Roa
noke Island, when the enemy was
thorougly routed. General Burnside
was much commended for this affair.
The Legislature of Rhode Island voted
him a sword, and he was the next month
promoted major-general of volunteers.
His success at Roanoke determined
him in an attack upon Newbern, the
defences of which were gallantly car
ried on the 14th of .March — a victory
which was the following month suc
ceeded by the reduction of Fort Macon.
Having thus triumphed in three im
portant actions in his Department of
North Carolina, General Burnside was
next summoned to the aid of General
McClellan, at the time he was about
leaving the peninsula of Virginia after
his unsuccessful siege of Richmond. In
the new campaign of General Pope he
was at first stationed on the Rappahan
nock, at Fredericksburg, whence he re
treated, with the rest of the army of Vir
ginia, to Washington. In the battles
which ensued, consequent upon Lee's in
vasion of Maryland, he bore a prominent
part. - He had at the outset the command

418

AMBKOSE EVEEETT BURNSIDE.

of the right wing of the army, composed
of the first and ninth army corpSj and
directed the operations, resulting, on
the 14th of September, 1862, in the
occupation of Turner's Gap, South
Mountain. In the action which ensued
on the seventeenth, at Antietam Creek,
General Burnside was in command of
the left wing, which was engaged in
the attack on the lower bridge, where
some of the severest fighting of the
day took place. After repeated at
tempts and much slaughter, the bridge
was carried and an advance position
gained- by General Burnside's com
mand. General Lee having been de
feated, recrossed the Potomac, and after
an interval of more than a month, was
followed by the Army of the Potomac.
General Burnside, in the new move
ment of General McClellan in Virgi
nia, had command of the ninth army
corps, and had reached, with the main
army, the vicinity of Warrentown, when
he was, on the 8th of November, unex
pectedly ordered to take the command
of the Army of the Potomac in place of
General McClellan, who was removed.
Reluctantly accepting the new and re
sponsible position, General Burnside
rapidly moved the army to the Rap-
pahanock, opposite Fredericksburg,
which he considered the best mode of
approaching Richmond, with the ad
vantage of a secure communication by
water at Aquia Creek. Here he re
mained, opposite the army of General
Lee, preparing for an assault upon the
enemy, which was finally made on the

12th of December, when the divisions
of Sumner, Hooker, and Franklin hash
ing crossed the, river, possession was
gained of the town, and a desperate
attack made upon the rebel works in
the rear. In this the Union forces, not
withstanding their gallant advance,
were repulsed with heavy losses, and
compelled to retreat to their old posi
tion. A second attempt was about to
be made by General Burnside to meet
the enemy on the 20th of January,
1863, which was prevented by a heavy
rain storm. There was some dissatis
faction also on the part of the officers
of his command, and a few days after,
at his own request, General Burnside
was relieved of the Command of the
Army of the Potomac, and succeeded by
General Hooker. General Burnside
was shortly after appointed to a new
field of operations in the West, in the
command of the important Department
of the Ohio. After pursuing and hunt
ing down the freebooter Morgan, he led
his army through East Tennessee, and
took Nashville, by a series of move
ments, in 'rapidity of execution and
complete success without bloodshed,
among the most remarkable in the war.
In the operations around Richmond at
the close of the war, General Burnside
had command of a division of the army,
and it was his misfortune to be engaged
in an unsuccessful assault with a large
body of colored troops upon the works
at Petersburg. In 1867 General Burn
side was elected Governor of Rhode
Island.

JOSEPH HOOKER.

Getseeal Hookee, of the. United
States Army was born in Hadley, Mass.,
in 1819. He .entered the Military
Academy at West Point, at the age' Of
fourteen, :arid graduated in .due course
in 1837, securing the appointment of
second-lieutenant in the first artillery.
He Avas promoted to a ffrStlieutenaney
the following year, and held the rank
of adjutant at the Military Academy
and in various duties, from r 1841 to
1846. The Mexican War, which fol
lowed, gave him ample opportunity to
prove his valor on, many well-fought
fields, in the lines of General Taylor and
General Scott. For his gallant' conduct
in the several conflicts at Monterey, on
the 21st, 22d, and 23d of . September,
1846, he was brevetted captain, and in
the ensuing. March was appointed as
sistant adjutant-general.. Engaged in
the advance, upon; the capital, he was
again, in 1847, brevetted major, for gal
lant ' and meritorious conduct .in the
action, at the National Bridge, and, be
fore the close of the campaign, lieute
nant-colonel, for his service's in the bat
tle of Chapultepec. His. "record, thus,
in the Mexican War was one of dis
tinguished bravery followed .by rapid
promotion. .
In 1848, he rose to the full rank of
captain 'ti his regiment, and relinquish

ing his rank in the line, was appointed
assistant adjutant-general with the rank
of captain, a position which he held till
1853,. when, while on/duty in Cali
fornia, he retired from the service,' pur"
chased a tract of land On the Bay,of
San Francisco,. and was there occupied
as a farmer, till the .outbreak of the. Re
bellion in 1861 again sunnrioned him to
the field. Hastening to the Atlantic sea
board, he was appointed from Cali
fornia on the first list of brigadier-gene
rals of volunteers, dated May 17th,
1861, arid was assigned. a brigade in
the Army of the Potomac, composed
of. the 1st an,d llth, Massachusetts, the
2d New Hampshire, and 26th Pennsyl
vania regiments, which acquired con
siderable distinction- under his com
mand. He afterwards was at the head
of a division of General Heritzelman'sa
corps. "While General. McClellan' Avas
perfecting, the organization of his great
army before Washington, in the win
ter of 1861-2J General Hooker, up to
the time of the -movement to the "Pen
insula, was on "duty in the southern
part of Maryland, on the left bank of
the Potomac.
. When the ' siege . of Yorktown was
.corhmenced, General- Hooker joined
the army on the Peninsula, with
his command took part in that affair,

«u

420

JOSEPH HOOKER.

and on the evacuation of that impor
tant position, in the pursuit of the
enemy which ensued, bore the brunt
of the hard-fought action in the attack
on the entrenched line of the enemy's
Avorks, known as the battle of Wil
liamsburg. Hooker, following Stone-
man's cavalry, sent to clear the way,
was engaged on the left, where the
contost was most severe, and gallantly,
with the assistance of General Kearney
at the close of the day, fought a force
of the enemy three or four times larger
than his own. " I wish," wrote Gene
ral McClellan, after the action, to the
Secretary of War, " to bear testimony
to the splendid conduct of Hooker's and
Kearney's divisions, under command of
General Heintzelman, in the battle
of Williamsburg. Their bearing was
worthy of veterans. Hooker's division
for hours gallantly withstood the at
tack of greatly superior numbers, with
very heavy loss." In consequence of
the condition of the roads during this
engagement, General Hooker's troops
were inadequately supplied with amu-
nition, but they stood their ground
with the bayonet and with such pow
der as they could collect from the car
tridge-boxes of the fallen. " I think,"
said General Hooker, on reviewing the
affair before the Congressional Com
mittee on the War, a year after, " this
was the hardest fight that has been
made this war."
General Hooker was again in action
Avith a portion of his division on the
second day of the battle begun at Fair
Oaks, on the 31st of May, 1862, and
with the other efficient corps and divi
sion command ars bore a distinguished

part in the Seven Days Battles Avhich
preceded the Avithdrawal of the army
to the James River, and particularly in
the battle of Malvern Hills, which
turned a virtual defeat into a glorious
victory. The Army of the Potomac was next
transported to the Rappahannock, to
take part in the campaign of General
Pope. In the arduous series of battles
which ensued covering the retreat to
the vicinity of Washington, culminat
ing in-rthe second battle of Manassas,
General Hooker, by the side of the
faithful .Kearney, who here sealed his
devotion to his country with his life,
proved his valor, corroborating the
title to admiration which his command
had gained, as "fighting Joe Hooker's
division." In his report of the cam
paign, says General Pope, "Generals
Kearney and Hooker have that place
in the public estimation which they
have earned by many gallant and he
roic actions, and which renders it un
necessary for me to do aught except
pay this tribute to the memory of one
and to the rising fame of the other."
General McClellan's brief and suc
cessful campaign in Maryland folloAved,
meeting the army of invasion of Lee at
the passes of the South Mountain, and
in the bloody engagement on the banks
of the Antietam. In these actions
General Hooker, who had now, with
the rank of major-general of volun
teers, succeeded General McDowell in
the command of the first army corps,
bore a distinguished part. At the bat
tie of Antietam he commanded the
right Aving and led the advance in the
attack upon the enemy's lines. On the

JOSEPH HOOKER.

421

morn.ng of the 17th of September, the
day of the battle when he again com
menced the action, after gaining an im
portant advantage in an attack upon
an advantageous position, as he Avas
reconnoitering the ground for a further
advance, he was Avounded in the foot
by a bullet and compelled to leave the
field. " At that time," as he afterwards
remarked, " my troops were in the
finest spirits ; they had whipped Jack
son, and compelled the enemy to fly,
throAving away their arms, their ban
ners, and saving themselves as they
best could. Some of the commanding
officers of the regiments were riding up
and down in front of their men Avith
the colors captured from the enemy
in their hands; the troops almost rent
the skies Avith their cheers; there
Avas the greatest good feeling that I
nave ever witnessed on the field of
battle." The veteran General Mansfield fell
in this battle, and General Hooker re
ceived the brigadiership in the regular
army left- vacant by his death. This
promotion Avas specially urged by
Genera] McClellan "as an act of justice
to the merits of a most excellent officer,
who Avas eminently conspicuous for his
gallantry and ability as a leader in
several hard-fought battles in Virginia,
and who, at the battle of Antietam
Creek, Avas Avounded at the head of his
corps while leading it fonvard in ac
tion. It would be but a fit reward for
the service General Hooker rendered
his country. I feel sure his appoint
ment Avould gratify the entire army."
Recovering from his Avound, General
Hooker was restored to the Army of
n- -53

the Potomac, noAV under General Burn
side, Avho had just succeeded General
McClellan. The army now moved to
the Rappahannock, and took up a posi
tion in front of Fredericksburg. In the
great action of December 13, Avhen the
Union forces were sent across the river
and suffered a disastrous repulse from
the enemy's superior position, General
Hooker's grand division bore its part
gallantly in the sacrifices of the day,
though he differed, from the com
mander-in-chief as to the feasibility of
the point of attack. At the close of
the folloAving month, General Burnside
was relieved of his command and Gene
ral Hooker appointed in his place.
He had novy an opportunity' to try his
own method of attack, and accordingly,
after various preparations, at the end
of April, 1863, crossed the Rappahan
nock with his army, about twenty-five
miles above Fredericksburg, Avith a
view of turning the enemy's position,
cutting off Lee's retreat to Richmond,
and compelling him to fight on terms
favorable to the Union army General
Stoneman, with a considerable cavalry
force, was meanwhile sent to cut off the
enemy's line of communications. Gene-
ral Hooker, confident of victory, rhassed
his army at Chancellorsville. On the
2d of May the action commenced by a
vigorous attack by the enemy under
General Jackson on the Union right
wing, which gave way before the impe'
tuous assault. This disaster was par
tially repaired, and the contest was
renewed with much severe fighting the
next day. On the folloAving, a violent
rain storm,. by overfloAving the river in
his rear, threatened to cut off the army

422

JOSEPH HOOKER

from its supplies, and the order was
given to retreat. Thus Chancellorsville
was added to the indecisive battles
of the war. A month of comparative
quiet now ensued on the Rappahan
nock, when the Confederate general,
Lee, suddenly set his army in motion,
crossed the river, and hastened to a
second grand invasion of Maryland and
Pennsylvania. He was promptly fol
lowed by General Hooker, who, by
forced marches, transported his army
to Washington, and was about to meet
his old antagonist in Maryland, when,
on the 28th of June, he was relieved
of the command, and succeeded by one

of the most efficient of his corps com
manders, General Meade.
Such has been General Hooker's re
cord in the field. Though of necessity
but briefly indicated in this sketch, his
career in the Army of the Potomac,
frequently illustrated by daring valor,
if not alwrays successful, has at critical
moments, on more than one occasion,
claimed for him the gratitude of his
country. After the war he was placed in com
mand of the Department of the Lakes,
comprising a large part of the northern
border of the United States. He has
since retired from the army.

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BENJAMIN Fl BUTLER.

Matoe-Gekeeal Bcttlee, of the vo
lunteer service of the United States in
the war for the suppression of the Re
bellion, is a native of the State of New
Hampshire. He was born in Deer-
field, Rockingham County, November
5, 1818. Self-reliant as a youth, and
dependent upon his own exertions, he
worked his way to a liberal education.
Entering Waterville, College, Maine,
of which institution he was a graduate
in 1838, he then applied himself to the
study of the law in Lowell, Massachu
setts, where, on his admission to the
bar, in. 1841, he began the practice of
his profession, and soon became known
as a successful advocate. Prompt, bold,
and sagacious, he was particularly dis
tinguished as a criminal lawyer. As an
evidence of his ingenuity, it is said, that
at the very commencement of his career,
he secured the small claim of a female
operative against a wealthy manufac
turer by attaching, the main wheel of
his factory. The anecdote was after
wards called to mind, when, as major-
general at New Orleans, he was dealing
with the Rebellion, and, ever fertile in
expedients, was, by some direct stroke
of the kind, constantly arresting the
movements of his adversaries.
A lawyer of the turn of mind and
professional habits of Mr. Butler is ever

likely in America to find his way into
political life, and he was no exception
to the rule. His early experience, per
haps, or native rugged force of charac
ter, attached him to the Democratic
party, of which he became an active
member, in Massachusetts, being elect
ed to the State House of Representa
tives in 1853. He was a member of
the convention for the formation of a
new State Constitution the same year,
and in 1859 was chosen a member of
the Senate; In the Presidential cam
paign of the following year he bore a
prominent part, serving as a delegate in
the Democratic Convention at Charles
ton, and subsequently at Baltimore.
A strict party man, he favored and ad
hered" to the nomination of Breckin
ridge. He was at this time an unsuc
cessful candidate for governor of Massa
chusetts. In addition to his other ac
tivities, he held the rank of brigadier-
general of militia in the military organ
ization of the State.
Such were the antecedents of General
Butler when the attack upon Sumter,
in April, 1861, summoned the nation to
arms. No one responded more promptly
to the call. Party was forgotten, or
rather thrown aside, as, placed in com
mand by General Andrews, of the Mas
sachusetts regiments, on the instant

IBS

424

BENJAMIN P. BUTLER.

gathered for the defence of Washington,
he hastened to the field. He Avas on
Ms Avay Aviuh the eighth regiment at
Philadelphia, Avhen the advance of his
command were fired on in the streets
of Baltimore. Quickly appreciating
the situation, he hastened to HaArre
de Grace, seized the steam ferry-boat
at that place, and sailed with his troops
doAvn the Chesapeake to Annapolis,
where he arrived in time to occupy the
toAvn and rescue the old frigate Con
stitution, " Old Ironsides," from the in
surgents. An order to his regiment
congratulated them on this patriotic
service. " It was given," said he of the
honored ship, "to Massachusetts and
Essex County first to man her ; it was
reserved to Massachusetts to have the
honor to retain her for the service of
the Union and the laws. This is a suf
ficient triumph of right, a sufficient tri
umph for .us." In ¦ recognition of his
position, General Butler was immedi
ately placed by the Government in
command of the Department of Anna
polis, including the city of Baltimore.
On the 5th of May, advancing, he took
possession of the Relay House, and on
the 14th entered the city, and estab
lished his head-quarters in a fortified
camp on Federal Hill. Having in this
short time restored order to his depart
ment, he was, on the 16th, appointed
major-general of volunteers, and as
signed to the new Department of East
ern Virginia, with his head-quarters at
Fortress Monroe.
General Butler arrived at the fortress
on the 22d of May, and the next day
set on foot a reconnoissance of the
neighboring country to Hampton and

the James River, forming a camp on
the main-land, and occupying the im
portant position of Newport News.
The advance of the soldiery repelled
the white population, and brcught to
the camp numbers of the negro slave
population, presenting a new problem
to the commander. This he promptly
solve*."1, in a Avay of his OAvn. Observ
ing the aid given by the blacks to their
masters in their fortifications, when ap
plication Avas made by a rebel officer
for the return of several of these fugi
tives, he refused the request, claiming
them as "contraband of war;" while
he undertook the support of those wh<
fell into his hands, setting the able
bodied at work, crediting them with
their labor, and charging them for
their maintenance. This decision gave
a neAV word, to the language — " contra
bands" from this time being, familiarlv
employed as a designation of the fugi
tive or released slave.
The chief military incident of Gen
eral Butler's command at Fortress
Monroe Avas the attack, in June,
upon the enemy in position at Great
Bethel. Like many of the early efforts
of the northern army in the war,
it proved unsuccessful, training and
experience being necessary for opera
tions in the field. In other affairs Gen-
eral Butler found himself an efficient
officer. In the middle of August he
Avas succeeded in the department by
General Wool ; ,when, remaining in
command of the volunteer forces out
side the fortress in this capacity, a few
days after he accompanied a detach
ment of the troops in the joint naval and
military expedition to Hatteras Island.

 I

BENJAMIN F. BUTLER.

425

In the operations for. the reduction of
that place on the tAventy-eighth, he
landed a portion of his small command,
and was about, on the folloAving day,
to disembark Avith the remainder, when
the enemy's forts, overcome by the na
val attack, surrendered, and the agree
able duty fell to his' lot of imposing the
terms of capitulation. He required an
unconditional surrender, which was
conceded. His Avork being thus early
accomplished, he returned in one of the
transports to Fortress" Monroe, and was
the first to bear the news of the vic
tory to the North.
After this, General Butler was placed
in command in NeAV England, where,
for the remainder of the year, he was
diligently engaged in mustering the
forces for a neAv and important expedi- ¦
tion, destined for the capture of New
Orleans. Several months were passed
in the enlistment and equipment of the
troops. At length, at the end of Feb
ruary, 1862, General Butler embarked
at Boston, in the United States steam
transport Mississippi, with fourteen
hundred troops, to join the other land
forces of the expedition, which had
been sent forward to Ship Island,, in
the Gulf of Mexico. On the voyage
the steamer ran aground on a shoal on
the coast of North Carolina, and was
compelled to stop at Port Royal to re
fit, finally reaching her destination on
the 23d of March. A month from that
date, the joint fleets of Farragut and
Porter commenced their attack upon
Forts Jackson and Saint Philip, in the
Mississippi, General Butler cooperating
with eight thousand troops in transport
vessels. In the plan of the attack it

was arranged that if the forts were not
immediately reduced by the bombard
ment, General Butler should carry his
force out of the southwest pass into
the Gulf and effect a landing in the
rear of the works, to cut them off from
supplies, or take them by assault. The
contingency arose, and the appointed
work was performed. General Butler,
under circumstances of unusual diffi
culty, landed three thousand of his
men on the morass, and invested Fort
Jackson, the most important of the de
fences. The garrison mutinied against
their officers, turned their guns against
them, and the majority of them surren
dered to the pickets preparatory to the
formal delivery of the forts to Com
mander Portei on the 28th of August
Captain Farragut meanwhile had as
cended the river to NeAV Orleans,
whither General Butler immediately
proceeded to take command of the
city. At this period commences the most
characteristic period of his career. The
peculiar state of society in NeAv Orleans,
largely composed of a violent and dis
affected population, ill disposed to ac
cept the return to the Union sud
denly enforced upon them, required
the constant exercise of vigilance on
the part of the new rulers. It Avas
an authority in which discretion Avas
as necessary as firmness. General But
ler in a remarkable degree possessed
both, united Avith a sagacity or mother
wit which anticipated evil and kept off
disaster. His first -requirement, in face
of the early exhibitions of treason and
violence, was that the flag should be
respected. " I find the city under the

426

BENJAMIN F. BUTLER.

dominion of the mob," he wrote, on his
arrival, to the Secretary of War. "They
have insulted our flag — torn it down
with indignity. This outrage will be
punished in such a manner as, in my
judgment,"will caution both the perpe
trators and abettors of the act, so that
they shall fear the stripes if they do
not reverence the stars of our banner."
For this offence, Mumford, the perpetra
tor, was afterwards tried by a military
commission, under General Butler's rule,
and executed . The example was thought
necessary, and it was said had a whole
some effect upon the future order of the
city In other memorable instances, re
spect for the laws Avas enforced by tem
porary imprisonment of influential per
sonages who showed hostility to the
Government. One of his numerous "orders" excited
much unfriendly criticism, being greatly
misrepresented, of which, indeed, from
its nature, it was readily susceptible.
It was intended to remedy an evil which
had been felt wherever the Northern
armies had come in contact with the po
pulation of the Southern cities, among
which numerous women were found
who systematically, and sometimes
grosely insulted, the Union officers
and men. This was frequently carried
to a length to be insupportable. Gene
ral Butler accordingly issued his order :
" As officers and soldiers of the United
States have been subjected to repeated
insults from. women calling themselves
ladies of NeAV Orleans, in return for the
most scrupulous non-interference and
courtesy on our part, it is ordered here
after, when any female shall, by mere
gesture or movement, insult or show

contempt for any officers or soldiers of
the United States, she shall be regard
ed and held liable to be treated as a wo-
mari-abouttown plying her vocation."
Disaffected persons chose to consider
the order ambiguous, and vented their
indignation upon what they denounced
as its impropriety accordingly. It
was simply intended to make the act
thoroughly disreputable, saying, in ef
fect, if a woman is so lost to modesty
as to insult a stranger conducting him
self with decorum, and that stranger
entitled to particular honor, as an offi
cer of the United States, let her be as
sociated with the infamy of which her
conduct is a suggestion. It was, un
doubtedly, putting the thing in a strong
light, but it was a riecessary warning,
and it cured the evil.
Repressing disturbances and counter
acting disloyalty were but parts of
General Butler's duty in New Orleans.
He had the military safety of his de
partment to provide for, which, with a
moderate force, he made amply secure;
and, most pressing of all, he had a
starving population to support. No
less than ten thousand families, num
bering about thirty-four thousand per
sons, were fed each day by the bounty
of a relief commission Avhich he insti
tuted. To provide the necessary out
lay he imposed fines upon wealthy citi
zens Avho had given their aid to the
Rebellion. The intelligent and influen
tial Avere thus made responsible for the
suffering of the poor and ignorant. A
thousand of the needy were kept con
stantly employed in improving the con-
dition of the city; and so beneficial was
this labor, that a season which was ex

]\  ;

BENJAMIN F. BUTLEE.

427

pected to be one of unusual sickness,
proved to be one of extraordinary
health. In the discharge of these and other
duties of equal utility, with a jealous
.regard for the national authority,
General Butler continued in command
of the department through the year,
closing his administration with an im
portant and successful military move
ment, bringing under his rule the lower
district of Louisiana, on the western
bank of the Mississippi. In December,
1862, he was succeeded by General
Banks. In December, 1863, General Butler
Was appointed to the command of the

eighteenth army corps, relieving Gen.
Foster in North Carolina, and in the
next . year he was again in active ser
vice in Virginia, to the south of Rich
mond, in conjunction with General
Grant's advance from the Potomac.
After the war, upon resuming his civil
life, General Butler was elected to Con
gress from Massachusetts in 1866, and
was again returned from the same State
in 1868. His congressional career has
been marked by the most determined
opposition to the President, Andrew
Johnson, in whose impeachment trial
he figured as one of the most energetic
and violent leaders of the prosecu
tion.

JAMES SHIELDS

BKiaiDIEIl-GEWEEAL J AMES SHIELDS,
of the United States Volunteers in the
War for the Union, is a native of Ire
land. He was born in the county of
Tyrone, in the year 1810 ; he emigrated
to the United States at the age of six
teen, pursued a course of liberal studies,
and in 1832 settled at Kaskaskia, Illi
nois, becoming a citizen of the State,
and engaging in the practice of the law.
Early entering on political life, he be
came a prominent member of the Demo
cratic party, and1 his promotion Avas
rapid. He Avas elected in 1836 a mem
ber of the State legislature, and in 1839
Auditor of the State. In 1843 he Avas
appointed Judge of the Supreme Court
of Illinois, and in 1845, in the adminis
tration of President Polk, removed to
Washington, having received the ap
pointment of Commissioner of the Gene
ral Land Office. The Mexican War now
breaking out, he offered his services for
the field, and was appointed by the
President, brigadier-general of volun
teers, 1st of July, 1846. In this capa
city he was with the army of General
Scott on his march to the capital by
Avay of Vera Cruz, and on several occa
sions in the campaign distinguished
himself in action. For his gallant and
meritorious conduct at Cerro Gordo,
where he Avas dangerously Avounded,

428

he was brevetted major-general of vo
lunteers. In the further advance to
ward the capital he was again severely
wounded at the battle of Chapultepec.
His ..brigade in the Valley of Mexico
consisted of a battalion of marines and
NeAV York and South Carolina regi
ments of volunteers.
The Avar being ended, General Shields
retired into private life, resuming hia
residence in Illinois, whence,, in 1849,
he was sent by the legislature to the
United States Senate. On the comple
tion of his term, in 1855, identified with
the interests of the West, he removed
to Minnesota, and settled on lands
Avhich had been bestowed upon him by
the Government for his army services.
On the adoption of a constitution by
that territory, he was again sent to the
United States Senate, in 1858, as a re
presentative of the new State, and
served through the short term, at the
conclusion of which he removed to Ca
lifornia. When the great Rebellion, in the
spring of 1861, called most of the offi
cers of the old Mexican army again into
the field, General Shields was naturally
looked to by his countrymen, who
formed so large a portion of the new
army, for active service. He responded
to the call, presented himself at Wash

Likp/upr rixmtihe. lat&:/. P7wu.7jpupp , .
Johnson. .I'Yy >&.&>. hmViElusru. i-i .-:¦..- :

ivtyssg ,U7j'.j '„ 7 iy Jc luuiori . ,

JAMES SHIELDS.

429

ington, and received the appointment,
from California, of brigadier-general of
t volunteers, . his commission bearing
date August 19, 1861. He was called
into active service on the death of Gen
eral Lander, in March, 1862, when he
succeeded that officer in his command
in Virginia on the upper Potomac. In
the campaign which immediately ensu
ed in the valley of the Shenandoah he
bore an important part, being in com
mand at the battle of Winchester. This
action, fought on the 23d of March, fol
lowed on the memorable advance of
General Banks, in command of the de
partment, into the valley from Harper's
Ferry, a movement which led to the
enemy's evacuation of their cherished
position at Manassas, and was the pre
cursor of the long series of active ope
rations of the Army of the Potomac on
the Peninsula. The advance of Gene
ral Banks with his forces at the begin
ning of the month caused the retreat of
the Confederates. Charlestown, Lees-
burgh, Martinsburgh, and presently
Winchester, on the 12th, were occupied
by the Union forces. General Shields,
with his division, was then sent forward
on a reconnoissance beyond Strasburg,
when he discovered the rebel general,
Jackson, reinforced, in a strong position
near Newmarket, within supporting dis
tance of the main body of the enemy
under Johnston. " It was necessary" —
we cite the account of General Shields
himself, in a characteristic letter to a
friend, Avritten shortly after the event —
"to decoy him from that position.
Therefore I fell back rapidly to Win
chester on the 20th, as if in retreat,
marching my whole . command nearly
ii.— 54

thirty miles in one day. My force was
placed at night in a secluded position,
two miles from Winchester, on the Mar
tinsburgh road. On the 21st the rebel
cavalry, under Ashby, showed them
selves to our pickets, within sight of
Winchester. On the 22d, all of Gene
ral Banks' command, with the excep
tion of my division, evacuated Win
chester, en route for Centreville. This
movement, and the masked position of
my division, made an impression upon
the inhabitants, some of whom were iu
secret communication with the eriemy,
that our army had left, and that nothing
remained but a few regiments to garri
son this place. Jackson was signalized
to this effect. I saw their signals and
divined their meaning. About five
o'clock on the. afternoon of the 22d,
Ashby, believing that the town was
almost evacuated, attacked our pickets
and drove them in. This success in
creased his delusion. It became neces
sary, howeVer, to repulse them for the
time being. I, therefore, ordered for
ward a brigade, and placed it in front,
between Winchester and the enemy. I
only let them see; however, two regi
ments of infantry, two batteries of ar
tillery, and a small force of cavalry,
which he mistook as the whole force
left to garrison and protect the place.
In a little skirmish that evening, while
placing the artillery in position, I was
struck by a fragment of a shell, which
broke my arm above the elbow, injured
my shoulder, and damaged me other
wise to such an extent that I have lain
prostrate ever since. •
"I commenced making preparations
for any emergency that might occur

430

JAMES SHIELDS.

that 'night or the next morning. Under
cover of the. night I ordered an entire
brigade (Kimball's) to take up a strong
position in advance. I pushed forward
four batteries, having them placed in a
strong position to support the infantry.
I placed Sullivan's brigade on both
flanks to prevent surprise and to keep
my flank from being turned, and I held
Tyler's brigade in reserve, to operate
against any point that might be. as
sailed in front. In this position I
awaited and expected the enemy's at
tack next morning. My advance bri
gade was two miles from the town, its
pickets extending perhaps a mile fur
ther along the turnpike leading to
Strasburg. About eight o'clock in
the morning, I sent forward two officers
to reconnoitre the front and report in
dications of the enemy. They returned
in an hour, reporting no enemy in sight
except Ashby's force of cavalry, infan
try, and artillery, which by this time
had become familiar and contemptible
to us. General Banks, who was yet
there in person, upon hearing the re
port, concluded that Jackson could not
be in front possibly, or be decoyed so
far away from the main body of the
rebel army. In this opinion I, too, be
gan to concur, concluding that Jackson
was too sagacious to be caught in such
a trap. General Banks therefore left
for Washington. His staff officers were
directed to follow the same day, by way
of Centreville. Knowing the crafty
enemy, however, I had to deal with, I
omitted no precaution. My whole force
was concentrated, and prepared to sup
port Kimball's brigade, which was in
advance. About half-past ten o'clock

it became evident we had a considera
ble force before us ; but the enemy still
concealed himself so ¦ adroitly in the
woods that it was impossible to estimate
his numbers. I ordered a portion of
the artillery forward to open fire and
unmask them. By degrees they began
to show themselves. They planted bat
tery after battery in strong position,. on
the centre and on both flanks. Our
artillery responded, and this continued
until about half-past three o'clock in
the afternoon, when I directed a column
of infantry to carry a battery on their
left flank and to assail that flank, which
was done promptly and splendidly by
Tyler's brigade, aided by some regi
ments from the other brigades. The
fire of our infantry was so close and de
structive that it made havoc in their
ranks. The result was the capture of
their guns on the left and the forcing
back of their wing on the centre, thus
placing them in a position to be routed
by a general attack, which was made
about five o'clock by all the infantry,
and succeeded in driving them in flight
from the field. Night fell upon us at
this stage, leaving us in possession of
the field of battle, two guns and four <-
caissons, three hundred prisoners, and
about one thousand stand of small
arms." The loss of the enemy in killed
was estimated at five hundred, and
twice that number wounded ; the Union
loss one hundred and fifty killed, and
three hundred wounded.
Such, in the narrative of General
Shields, was the battle of Winchester.
The victory was gratefully acknowledg-
ed by the Secretary of War, who pro
nounced it a " brilliant achievement ;"

JAMES SHIELDS.

431

while General McClellan, then General-
in-Chief, congratulated General Shields
and his troops upon their " energy, ac
tivity, and bravery."
General Shields in a short time re
covered from the injury which he had
received, and resumed his active duties
in the field. In May, his division was
detached from the command of General
Banks and placed under that of Gene
ral McDowell on the Rappahannock,
when it was presently sent to the upper
portion of the valley of the Shenandoah
to cut off the retreat of the Confederate
general,. Jackson, who had driven Gen

eral Banks tp the Potomac, and was
now in his turn again pursued. Gene
ral Shields in this movement cooperat
ed with General Fremont, the one pur
suing the enemy to the east of the She
nandoah River, the other on the left,
and the efforts of both to resist the
march of Jackson were unsuccessful.
A portion of Gerieral Shields' division
was defeated in the action at Port Re
public, on the 9th of June. This ended
the campaign. Other dispositions of
the forces were now required, in the
arrangement of which General Shields
was relieved from active service

THOMAS FRANCIS DUPONT.

Tins eminent officer of the United
States Navy, who has been employed
in its most responsible service and at-
tainedj its highest- honors, Was born at
Bergen Point, in the State of New-
Jersey, September' 27, 1803. As the
name indicates, the family is of French
descent; his grandfather and father
having emigrated to the United States
at the end of the last century. Young
Dupont, the subject of this notice, en
tered the navy in his boyhood, being
commissioned a midshipman at the age
of twelve. He was appointed from the
State of DelaAvare, December 19, 1815.
Of the forty-eight years which have
been passed by him since that time in the
public service, about one half the time
has been spent in active duty at sea.
His first cruise was in 1817, with Com
modore Stuart, in the old frigate Frank
lin. In 1836, being then a lieutenant,
he commanded the Warren, attached to
the squadron of Commodore Dallas in
the West Indies. Having been pro
moted to the rank of commander, in
1845 he was assigned the command of
the frigate Congress, the flag-ship of
Commodore Stockton, in a cruise in the
Pacific. The following year he com
manded the sloop-of-war Cyane, then
employed in the squadron of Commo
dores Shubrick and Jones on the Cali

fornia coast. , It was the period of the
Mexican War, and the navy was fre
quently called upon, then and for some
time after, to assist the military ;power
in that quarter.; On one occasion, in
1848, Commander Dupont landed at
San Jos6 with a body of marines and
sailors, and defeated a largely superior
force of Mexicans, rescuing a small
party under Lieutenant Heywood, who
had been beleaguered in the Mission
House. In 1856, he was promoted to
a captaincy, and. the following year
sailed in command of the steam frigate
Minnesota, on a two years' cruise in the
China Seas. On his return to the
United States, he was, in January,
1861, appointed to the command cf
the navy-yard at Philadelphia
This long-continued employment at'
sea and the regard in which he was
held in his profession, as well for his
high personal character as his executive
ability, pointed Captain Dupont out as
one well qualified for a high command
in the arduous services now required
from the navy. Accordingly, when the
department, early in the administra
tion of President Lincoln, Avas summon.
ing its resources for operations on the
Atlantic coast, Captain Dupont Avas
placed at the head of a board of in
quiry specially summoned at Wash-

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THOMAS FRANCIS DUPONT.

433

ington for deliberation on the course
to be taken. The occupation of Hat
teras Island was among the first results
of this movement, and when a larger
and more important expedition was
prepared for a descent upon the coast
of South Carolina, Captain Dupont
Was placed at the head of the imposing
fleet destined for the work. The choice
of the locality at which the demonstra
tion should be made, was, in a great
measure, left to his discretion. It was
in accordance Avith his advice, supported
by that of the able Assistant-Secretary
of the Navy, Mr. Fox, that possession
of the excellent harbor of Port Royal
Avas determined upon as the grand ob
ject of the expedition. During the
summer and autumn of 1861, prepara
tions for the work were made on the
most ample ' scale. After various de
lays, the land and naval force, the
former commanded by General T. W.
Sherman, comprising a fleet of fifty ves
sels, including transports, set sail on
the 29th of October, from Hampton
Roads, Commodore Dupont in the flag
ship Wabash, leading the way The
weather, fair at starting, after the ships
had slowly passed Hatteras, changed
into a storm of great severity, in which
the fleet Avas widely scattered, several
transport steamers foundered, many
lives Avere lost, and others preserved
only by the greatest devotion and hero-
A week was passed in suffering

ism.

and repairing the disasters, and in
making the preliminary surveys off Hil
ton Head. On the 6th of November,
the flag-ship crossed the bar, and on the
forenoon of the following day the fleet
went forward to encounter the formi

dable defences on either side of the
river, of Fort Walker and Fort Beau
regard, and the unknown strength of
the enemy's flotilla, under Commodor
Tatnall. The order of battle was ad
mirably arranged by Commodore Du
pont. As described by him in his offi
cial report, it comprised "a main
squadron ranged in a line ahead, and a
flanking squadron, which was to be
thrown off on the northern section of
the harbor to engage the enemy's flo
tilla, and preventing them taking the
rear ships of the main line Avhen it
turned to the southward, or cutting off
a disabled vessel. The plan of attack
was to pass up midway betAveen Forts
Walker and Beauregard, receiving and
returning the fire of both, to a certain
distance, about two and a half miles
north of the latter. At that point the
line was to turn to the south, round
by the west, and close in with Fort
Walker, encountering it on its weakest
flank, and at the same time enfilading
in nearly a direct line, its two water
faces. While standing to the south-
Avard, the vessels of the line were head
to tide, which kept them under com
mand, Avhilst the rate of going was
diminished. When abreast of the fort,
the engines were to be slowed, and the
movement reduced to only as much as
would be just sufficient to overcome
the tide, to preserve the order of battle
by passing the batteries in sIoav succes
sion, and to avoid becoming a fixed.
mark for the enemy's fire. On reach
ing the extremity of .Hilton Head and
the shoal ground making off from it,
the line was to turn to the north by
the east, and, passing to the northward.

434

THOMAS FRANCIS DUPONT.

to engage Fort Walker, Avith the port
battery nearer than when .first on the
same course. These evolutions were
to be repeated."
The plan thus adroitly arranged was
systematically carried out. The flag
ship in advance, commenced the move
ment, folloAved by her comrades. Three
times passing the formidable Fort
Walker — at distances of eight hundred
and six hundred yards, the Wabash
poured her destructive fire into the
work. Her immediate consort, the Sus
quehanna, gave her powerful assistance,
while the smaller vessels at the enfilad
ing point swept the fort with their
guns. "The enemy," wrote Commo
dore Dupont in a private letter to Se
cretary Fox, " fought bravely, and their
rifle guns never missed. An eighty-
pound rifle ball went through our main
mast in the very centre, making an
awful hole. They aimed at our bridge,
where they knew they could make a
hole if they were lucky. A shot in
the centre let water into the after maga
zine, but I saved a hundred lives by
keeping under way and bearing in
close. We found their sights gradu
ated at six hundred yards. When they
once broke, the stampede was intense,
and not a gun was spiked; In truth, I
never conceived of such a fire as that
of this ship on her second turn, and I
am iold that its effect upon the specta
tors outside of her was intense. I
learn 4;hat when they saw our flag fly
ing on shore, the troops were powerless
to cheer, but wept General Sherman
was deeply affected, and the soldiers
were loud and unstinting in their ex
pressions of admiration and gratitude."

This brilliant victory called forth
from the country the highest congratu
lations. The sentiment of Commodore
Dupont in his order to the officers and
men of his squadron, in which he ex
pressed his " full sympathy in the satis
faction they must feel at seeing' the
ensign -of the Union flying once more
in the State of South Carolina, which
has been the chief promoter of the
wicked and unprovoked rebellion they
have been called upon to suppress,"
was everywhere echoed. Secretary
Welles, in the name of the nation, ten
dered his heartfelt congratulations to
the commander for " the brilliant suc
cess," and Congress, at the especial re
quest of President Lincoln, by a joint
vote of tnanks, added its tribute in ac
knowledgment of "the services and
gallantry '" of officers and men.
Flag-officer Dupont continued in
command of the South Atlantic Block
ading Squadron, and in the following
spring conducted an expedition from
Hilton Head along the coast of Georgia
and Florida, compelling the surrender
or abandonment of the forts at St.
Simon's Sound, the St. Mary's, and St
John's, and establishing Union garri
sons at Fernandina, St. Augustine, and
other important points. These events
occupied the month of March ; in April,
Captain Dupont had the satisfaction of
taking part in the final proceedings, so
satisfactorily terminated by the bril
liant engineering operations of General
Gilmore, of the siege of Fort Pulaski,
As a reward for the services in his de
partment, Flag-officer Dupont was, in
August, promoted to the rank of rear-
admiral, the highest grade in the ser-

THOMAS FRANCIS DUPONT.

435

vice, created by an act of the recent
Congress. The remainder of the year was em
ployed by Admiral Dupont in various
duties in his department at Port Royal
and among the islands, in which the
fleet - bore a prominent part. In the
spring of 1863, a. squadron of powerful
iron clads having been gathered at
Hilton Head, an anxiously expected
assault was made upon the forts in
Charleston harbor. Admiral Dupont
commanded the fleet, upon which the
whole movement depended. The attack
was made on the 7th of April. The
monitors and other iron-clad A^essels
Avere led gallantly into action ; but
chiefly owing to unexpected difficulties
in the obstruction of the channel, the
fleet being kept under the concentrated
fire of the forts, the movement which
was expected to result in the capture of
Charleston failed of success. Compara
tively little injury was suffered by the
monitors, while considerable damage
was inflicted on Fort Sumter ; but no
thing was gained by the fleet beyond a
better knowledge of the situation and a

practical test of the power of the new
naval batteries.
In June, Admiral Dupont had the
satisfaction of reporting to the depart
ment the capture of the famous rebel
iron clad, the Atlanta^ in Waisaw Sound.
This vessel, formerly an English mer
chant steamer, the Fingal, had been
fitted up at a great cost at Savannah,
and much was expected from her prow
ess in attacking the blockading fleet. A
few shots, however, from the monitor
WeehawkeU, Captain John Rodgers, on
her first coming out, effectually disposed
of her pretensions.
Shortly after this, Admiral Dupont
was relieved of the command of the
South Atlantic Blockading Squadron,
which he had for nearly two years held
with distinguished honor, and returned
to his home at the North.
Admiral Dupont, after witnessing the
termination of the war, in which he had
borne so gallant and patriotic a part,
died suddenly at the La Pierre House,
in Philadelphia, on the morning of the
twentv-third of June. 18pn.

DAVID GLASCOE FARRAGUT.

Tnis energetic and intrepid naval
officer, Avhose career on the Mississippi,
from the Gulf of Mexico to Vicksburg,
has identified him Avith some of the
most substantial services rendered to his
country in the War for the Union, Avas
born in East Tennessee, near Knox
ville, about the year 1801. His father,
an intimate friend of General Jackson,
at that time held the rank of major in
a cavalry regiment in the service of the
United States — military talents being
in request in what Avas then a frontier
region infested by hostile Indians. On
one occasion, in the childhood of David,
his mother, in the absence of her hus
band, Avas required to defend her house
against a party of those savage marau
ders, which she did with spirit, remov
ing the children to a place of safety and
parleying with the assailants through a
partially barricaded door till Major Far
ragut with his squadron of horse op
portunely came to the rescue. Scenes
like this were well calculated to give
strength and hardihood to a youth of
spirit. We accordingly find young Da
vid, when his father was called to New
Orleans to take command of a gun-boat
at the opening of the war of 1812, anx
ious also to enter the service. Falling
in with Commodore Pcrter, his wishes
were gratified in a midshipman's ap-

4M

pointment on board that commander's
ship, the Essex. In this famous vessel
he made the passage of Cape Horn, and
in his boyhood participated in that no
vel and remarkable career of naval con
quest and adventure, which was termi
nated by the heroic action with two
English ships, the Phoebe and Cherub
—one of the bloodiest on record — in
the harbor of Valparaiso. Young Far
ragut, boy as he was, seems to have par
ticularly distinguished himself in this
engagement. His name is mentioned
Avith honor in the official report of
Commodore Porter as one of several
midshipmen who " exerted themselves
in the performance of their respective
duties, and gave an earnest of their va
lue to the service," adding that he Avas
prevented by his youth from recom
mending him for promotion. He was
then but thirteen, and previously to
the action had been engaged in con
ducting one of the English prizes taken
by the Essex from Guayaquil to Valpa
raiso, against the strong remonstrance
of the British captain, who objected
to being under the orders of a boy;
but the boy insisted upon performing
his duty, and was sustained in its per
formance.. Returning with the rest of the offi
ecrs of the Essex on parole to the Uni-

DAVID GLASCOE FARRAGUT.

437

ted States, young Farragut was placed
by Commodore Porter at Chester, Penn
sylvania, under the tuition of one of
Bonaparte's Swiss Guards, who taught
his pupils military tactics. Being ex
changed, the youth resumed his naval
career as midshipman till 1825, when,
being on the West India station, he Avas
commissioned a lieutenant. For the
next sixteen years we find him engag
ed in various service on board the
Brandy wine, Vandalia, and other, ves
sels, on the coast of Brazil, and on the
receiving-ship at the Norfolk Navy
Yard. He was commissioned Com
mander in 1841, and' ordered to the
sloop-of-war Decatur, in which he join
ed the Brazil squadron. Three years'
leave of absence succeeded, when he
was again on duty at Norfolk, and in
1847 was placed in command of the
sloop-of-war Saratoga, of the Home
Squadron. He Avas then for several
years second in command at the Nor
folk Navy Yard, and in 1851 was ap
pointed Assistant-Inspector of Ord
nance. He held this appointment for
three years, when he was ordered, in
1854, to the command of the new Navy
Yard established at Mare Island, near
San Francisco, California. In 1855, he
was commissioned captain, remaining
in charge of the Navy Yard on the Pa
cific till 1858, when he was ordered to
the command of the sloop-of-war Brook
lyn, of the Home Squadron, from which
he Avas relieved in 1860. The opening
of the Rebellion thus found him at
home awaiting orders.
His residence was at Norfolk, where
he was in rather a critical position
when, on the fall of Sumter, the leaders
n— 55

of the revolt in Virginia hurried the
State out of the Union. His loyalty
was well known, and of course exposed
him to suspicion and hatred. It was
evident to him that he could no longer
live in Virginia in safety, without com
promising his opinions, and at the last
moment, the day before the Navy Yard
was burned, narrowly escaping impris
onment, he left with his family for the
North," his journey being 'interrupted
by the destruction of. the railroad track
from Baltimore. Arrived at New York,
he placed his family in a cottage at
Hastings, on the Hudson, in the vicin
ity of New York, in readiness, at the
first opportunity, to enter on active
service. When the navy was reinforc
ed by the building of ships, and esta
blished on its new footing, in the first
year of President Lincoln's administra
tion of the department, when the cap
ture of Hatteras and Port Royal had
given an impulse to naval operations
for the suppression of the Rebellion,
this occasion Avas found in the organi
zation of the expedition against New
Orleans. .By an order of Secretary
Welles, dated January 20, 1862, Cap-
tain Farragut was ordered to the Gulf
of Mexico to the command of the West
ern Gulf Blockading Squadron, with
such portion of which as could be
spared, supported by a _fleet of bomb
vessels under Commander D. D. Por
ter, he was further directed to " pro
ceed up the Mississippi River and re
duce the defences which guard the ap
proaches to New Orleans, when you
will appear off that city and take pos
session of it under the guns of your
squadron and hoist the American flag

438

DAVID GLASCOE FARRAGUT.

therein, keeping possession until troops
can be sent to you."
Never was a programme of such mag
nitude more faithfully and directly car
ried out. The necessary preparations,
which involved many delays, having
been completed, at the earliest possible
moment in March, Captain Farragut en
tered the Mississippi in his flag-ship, the
steamer Hartford, accompanied by the
vessels of his squadron. He was pre
sently followed by the mortar fleet of
Porter, and eveiything was pushed for
ward to secure the object of the expedi
tion. The bombardment of Fort Jack
son was commenced on the 16th of April
by the mortar fleet, and kept up vigor
ously for several days, preparatory to the
advance of the fleet. Before dawn on the
morning of the twenty-fourth, the way
having been thus cleared and a channel
through the river obstructions opened,
Captain - Farragut, having made every
provision which ingenuity could sug
gest, set his little squadron in motion
for an attack upon and passage of the
forts. The fleet advanced in two co
lumns, the. right to attack Fort St. Phi
lip and the left Fort Jackson. The ac
tion which ensued was one of the most
exciting and, we may add, confused, in
the annals of naval warfare. Passing
chain barriers, encountering rafts, fire-
ships, portentous rams and gun-boats,
fires from the forts and batteries on
shore, the officers of the fleet pushed on
with an energy and presence of mind
Avhich nothing could thwart. In the
perils of the day, the flag-ship Avas not
the least exposed and endangered. " I
discovered" says Captain Farragut in
bis report, "a fire-raft coming down

upon us, and in attempting to avoid it
ran the ship on shore, and the ram Ma
nassas, Avhich I had net seen, lay on the
opposite of it and pushed it down upon
us. ' Our ship was soon on fire half-way
up to her tops, but we bracked off, and
through the good organization of oui
fire department and the great exertions
of Captain Wainwright and his first-
lieutenant, officers and crew, the fire was
extinguished. In the meantime our
battery was never silent, but poured in
its missiles of death into Fort St. Philip,
opposite to which we had got by this
time, and it was silenced with the ex
ception of a gun now and then. By
this time the enemy's gun-boats, some
thirteen in number, besides two iron
clad rams, the Manassas aud Louisiana,
had become more visible. We took
them in hand, and, in the course of a
short time, destroyed eleven of them.
We were now fairly past the forts, and
the victory Avas ours ; but still here and
there a gun-boat making resistance. . . .
It was a kind of guerilla ; they were
fighting in all directions."
Leaving Commander Porter to receive
the surrender of the forts, and directing
General Butler with his troops of the
land forces to follow, Captain Farragut,
Avith' a portion of his fleet, proceeded np
to New Orleans, witnessing as he ap
proached the city the enormous destruc
tion of property in cotton-loaded ships
on fire, and other signs of devastation
on the river. The forts in the immedi
ate vicinity of the city were silenced,
and on the morning of the twenty-fifth,
as the fleet came up, the levee, in the
Avords of Captain Farragut, " Avas one
scene of desolation ; ships, steamers

DAVID GLASCOE FAKRAGUl.

439

otton, coal, etc., all in one common
blaze, and our ingenuity being much
taxed to avoid the floating conflagra
tion." In the midst of thiswild scene of
destruction, the surrender of New Or
leans was demanded, and after some
parley the American flag was, on the
twenty-sixth, hoisted on the Custom
house, and the Louisiana State flag
hauled down from the City Hall.
The country hailed this decisive vic
tory with joy — the more that it was a
success which, if not unexpected, was
such as the wishes of the most sanguine
could hardly have exceeded. At the
especial request of President Lincoln,
also, a vote of thanks was passed by
both Houses of Congress to Captain
Farragut, his officers and men, for their
gallantry on the Mississippi and in the
capture of New Orleans.
More than a year of arduous labor
for the land and naval forces of the
upper and lower Mississippi remained
before the possession of that river was
secured to the Union. In these active
operations Flag-Officer Farragut — he
Avas appointed Rear- Admiral on the
creation by Congress of this highest
rank in the navy in the summer of 1862
— with his flag-ship, the Hartford, was
conspicuous. In the campaigns of two
seasons on the river from New Orleans
to Vicksburg, ending with the surren
der in July, 1863, of the latter long-de
fended stronghold and Port Hudson,
the Hartford Avas constantly in active
ervice. In these various encounters

she was struck, it was said when the
good ship returned to New York for
repairs in the ensuing month, in the
hull, masts, spars and rigging two hun
dred and forty times by round shot
and shell, and innumerable times by
Minie and rifle balls. The reception of
Admiral Farragut at New York, the
Brooklyn Navy Yard, and at his new
home at Hastings, was earnest and
heartful, becoming the occasion and
the man.
The attack on Mobile on the 8 th of
July, 1864, crowned the long series of
victories wrhich compose the record of
Admiral Farragut. The results of this
engagement were the destruction of
the Confederate fleet, the capture of
the iron-clad ram Tennessee, and the
surrender of all the forts in the har
bor, with twenty-six hundred prisoners.
As a reward for this brilliant achieve
ment and for his other services, the
rank of Vice-Admiral, corresponding
to Lieut-General in the army, was
created by Congress and conferred
upon Admiral Farragut.
Soon after "this, at his request, he
was relieved from active service, and
was called to Washington, where he
remained, directing the movements of
the navy till the end of the war.
In 1867-8, Admiral Farragut visited
the chief ports of Europe in the flag
ship Franklin, and was received with .
distinguished attention by the sover
eigns and courts of all the leading
powers.

DAVID D. PORTER

Among the (oincidences of naval and
military command in the War for the
Union, the association of the names of
Farragut and Porter, in the important
series of operations on the Mississippi,
has not escaped attention. The former,
as the reader has seen in the previous
sketch, was introduced to the service
in his childhood, under the care and
protection of Commodore David Porter,
and boy as he was, fully shared the
adventures and perils of his famous
cruise in the Pacific. Nearly fifty years
after that event, Captain Farragut, in
command of the Department of the
Gulf, entered the Mississippi in concert
with the son of his old commander of
the Essex, to vindicate the national
honor by the restoration of Noav Or
leans to the Union— a service which
was to prove the ability of both offi
cers, and lead them to the highest rank
known to the naval service, of the United
States. Looking into the future, Com
modore Porter, the hero of the War of
1812, would hardly have dreamt that the
" boy midshipman," who had been intro
duced to him at New Orleans, would,
with two of his own sons, at the end of
half a century, receive the highest honors
of their country, the reward of the most
arduous and perilous services against a
domestic foe on the Mississippi.

Of these sons of Commodore Porter
thus distinguished in -this field of duty,
William D. Porter, the elder, on inore
than one occasion, in command of the
gun-boat Essex, recalled not merely the
name of his father's, vessel, but the cou
rage and patriotism, the spirit and suc
cess which had given the old ship her
reputation. The younger, David D.
Porter, 'the subject of this notice, bOrn
in Philadelphia, entered the navy as
midshipman in the year 1829. His
first cruise Avas in the Mediterranean,
under Commodore Biddle, till 1831.
After a year's leave of absence, he re
turned to that station, which has ever
proved, in its liberal intercourse with
the men of other nations, and its undy
ing associations of nature and art, a
most important school in the education
of the young naval officers of the Uni
ted States. Having passed his exami
nation in 1835, young Porter was at
tached to the coast survey service from
1836 to 1841, when he was promoted
to a lieutenancy, and was ordered to
the frigate Congress, in which he sailed
for four years on the Mediterranean
and South American stations. In 1845
we find him attached to the National
Observatory at Washington in special
service. During the Mexican War
which succeeded he Avas in charge of the

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DAVID D. PORTER

441

naval rendezvous at New Orleans, was
subsequently aga*n employed on the
coast survey, and from 1849 to 1853
wns, by permission of the department,
in command of the California mail
steamers Panama and Georgia, running
from New York to Aspinwall, a rising
commercial service of national impor
tance, to which his experience and per
sonal character Avere of great value.
After this he was in various home
service, till 1861, when he Avas pro
moted to the rank of commander, and
placed in command of the steam sloop
Powhatan, in which he joined the Gulf
Blockading Squadron off Pensacola. He
had thus, at the outbreak of the Rebel
lion, been thirty-two years in the ser
vice, over nineteen of which had been
spent at sea and nine on shore duty.
A special service of great importance
Avas presently entrusted to him. When,
in the beginning of 1862, an expedition
Avas set on foot to open the Missis
sippi River to NeAV Orleans, he Avas
assigned to the command of a fleet of
bomb vessels to cooperate with the
squadron of Captain Farragut in that
enterprise — a service which he carried
out with distinguished ability In the
movement on Forts Jackso'n and Saint
Philip his mortar flotilla led the Avay
in the attack on the 18th of April.
His dispositions were most skillfully
made, his vessels, ranged in three di
visions, being placed under the lee of
a thick wood closely interwoven with
vines, almost impervious to shot, while
their masts, dressed off Avith bushes,
seemed part of the forest, and thus
escaped being a mark from the forts.
The fire of the mortars was well

directed, and by evening the citadel
of Fort Jackson was in flames. The
second day the fire was resumed with
destructive effect, and was continued, in
the face of the most serious opposition,
with various resources, till the twenty-
fourth, when the final passage of the
forts Avas made by the fleet of Captain
Farragut. The details of these six days
of mortar practice, as related in the re
port of Commander Porter, are of the
highest interest. From the wet and
soft nature of the soil at the fort the
bombs descended into the ground to
the depth of twenty feet before ex
ploding, which in a measure destroyed
their effect. The firing Avas performed
with great regularity, the divisions be
ing arranged in three watches of four
hours each, firing during the tAven-
ty-four hours fifteen hundred shells.
"This, I found," says Commander Porter,
" rested the crews and produced more
accurate firing. Overcome Avith fatigue,
I had seen the commanders and crews
lying fast asleep on deck with a mortar
on board the. vessel next to them thun
dering away, and shaking everything
around them like an earthquake. The
windows were broken at the Balise,
thirty miles distant."
During the advance of the fleet
through the terrible scene of carnage,
when, as the shins Avere seen, in the
words of Commander Porter, " passing
through the flames, which seemed to
be literally eating them up," the mor
tar fleet kept up a destructive enfilad
ing fire. To this divisior of the expe
dition was left the final disposition of
the forts, which, though seriously in
jured, Avere not Avithout the means of

442

DAVID D. PORTER

continuing the struggle, having, besides
their OAvn resources, several steamers
and a powerful steam battery at hand.
Commander Porter, immediately on the
passage of the ships, demanded the
surrender of the forts, Avhich was re
fused. He consequently prepared to
reneAV the bombardment, and fired a
few shots, which Avere unansAvered.
"The fight," says he, "had all been
taken out of them." He then pro
ceeded to blockade the bayous, and cut
off the garrison from escape. A second
demand for surrender Avas better re
ceived, and on the twenty-eighth the
capitulation Avas signed by Captain
Porter and the Confederate command
ers, General Duncan and Lieutenant-
Colonel Higgins, on board the Harriet
Lane. While this Avas being arranged
in the cabin, the steam battery Louisi
ana, and the rebel steamers alongside
of her, Avere treacherously set on fire,
and it became necessary to protect
the Harriet Lane from the burning
battery, a vessel of four thousand tons,
mounting sixteen heavy guns, which
was drifting down, threatening, besides
the conflagration, a fearful explosion.
The conference still Avent on in the
midst of this terrific scene. Com
mander Porter inquired of the com
manders of the forts who were negoti
ating Avith him, and who threw the re
sponsibility of the burning upon the
rebel naval officer, " if they knew if
the guns of the battery were loaded, or
if she had much powder on board.
The ansAver Avas, ' I presume so, but
we knoAV nothing about the naval mat
ters here. At this moment," continues
Porter, in his report, "the guns, being

heated, commenced going off,- with a
probability of throwing shot and shell
amidst friend and foe. I did not deign
to notice it, further than to say to the
military officers: 'If you don't mind
the effects of the explosion which is
soon to come, we can stand it.' The
conference Avas carried on calmly to its
end, the burning mass meanwhile float
ing on in the direction of Fort Saint
Philip, abreast of which it blew up
with a fearful explosion, scattering its
fragments in all directions, and killing
one of the garrison in the fort. When
the smoke cleared off, the battery was
nowhere to be seen, having sunk imme
diately in the deep Avater of the Mis
sissippi." After the capture of NeAv Orleans,
Commander Porter continued to coop
erate with Captain Farragut on the
Mississippi, being engaged in the move
ment upon Vicksburg in May. He
was afterwards ordered, in July, when
operations in this quarter had been
suspended for the season, with a por
tion of his flotilla, to the James River.
In the folloAving October he was placed
in command of the Mississippi squad
ron, Avith the rank of acting rear-admi
ral. He Avas noAV actively employed
in cooperation Avith Admiral Farragut,
and Avhen, in the ensuing year, opera
tions Avere actively resumed for the
capture of Vicksburg, his squadron, in
concert with the victorious army of
General Grant, was constantly em
ployed in the most hazardous and hon
orable service. His daring and success
ful attack, on the 29th of April, upon
the Confederate batteries at Grand
Gulf prepared the way for Grant's deci-

DAVID D. POETEE.

443

sive movement from below upon Vicks
burg. " We had a hard fight for these
forts," wrote Porter to the Secretary
,of the Navy, " and it is with great pleas
ure that I report that the navy holds
the door to Vicksburg. Grand Gulf is
the strongest place on the Mississippi."
The door being opened, Grant's forces
advanced, from A'ictory to victory, to
the final conquest, steadily assisted by
Admiral Porter. For forty-two days
preceding the surrender of Vicksburg
the mortar boats were at work throw
ing shells into the city ; a powerful
battery, placed on scows, at the same
time bombarded the water Avorks.
Other guns were mounted to assist the
army operations in the rear of the town,
while the smaller gun-boats were em
ployed in guarding the transportation
of supplies by the river.
When the final hour of deliverance
came, on the Anniversary of the Na
tional Independence, it fell to the lot
of Admiral Porter, in a dispatch dated
on board his flag-ship Blackhawk, to for
ward to the Secretary of the Navy at
Washington this brief and authoritative
announcement : " Sir, I have the honor
to inform you that Vicksburg surren
dered to the United States forces on
the 4th of July." This was the first
bulletin to the country and to the world
of this memorable event Simultaneous
with the victory of General Meade over
Lee at Gettysburg, it Avas hailed as the

croAvning disaster to the Rebellion
When the tidings were received in
Washington, and read to the President,
flags were displayed from the depart
ments, and a salute of a hundred guns
ordered by the Secretary of War. As
a reward for his services on the Missis
sippi, Porter was promoted to the full
rank of rear-admiral.
Passing over the minor operations
on the Mississippi' and Red River, the
last action of importance in which
Admiral Porter was engaged, was the
attack on Fort Fisher at Wilmington,
North Carolina. The first of these at
tacks, on Dec. 24, 1864, wras unsuccess
ful, in consequence of the failure of the
design of bloAving . up the fort by a
vessel filled with powder, which was
towed up and exploded close under the
walls, 'with no effect, however, beyond
the breaking of a few panes of glass.
The subsequent bombardment from
the monitors and fleet proved ineffec
tual from the want of co-operation ot
the assaulting party under Gen. Butler.
On the 13th of January following the
attack was resumed, and on the next
day Fort Fisher yielded to the con
certed movements of the fleet under
Admiral Porter and the army under
Geri. Terry.
In 1869, upon the formation of the
new cabinet by General Grant, Admiral
Porter was appointed Assistant-Secre
tary of the Navy.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

Tue biography of a poet is in gene
ral little more than an inventory of his
writings. He is a man whose world is
within, who must have quiet to write,
and whose genius tempts him to per
petuate the quiet which he finds. Sel
dom a man of action, his migrations are
of little more inrportance to the World
at large, save through his writings, than
those of the Vicar of Wakefield from the
blue bed to the brown. Mr. LongfelloAV,
the popular poet of England and Amer
ica at this timej is no exception to the
rule. . The incidents, of his life are
mainly to be found in the record of . his
mental emotions in his books. There
is matter abundant and voluble enough,
but the narrative belongs rather to the
critic than the biographer.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was
born at Portland, Maine, February 27,
1807. His father, the Hon. Stephen
LongfelloAV, was a lawyer of distinction,
a man of influence, highly esteemed by
his contemporaries. The son, was sent to
Bowdoin College at Brunswick, where,
in due time, he graduated in the class
with Nathaniel Hawthorne, in 1825.
Seldom has any college in one year sent
forth to the world two such ornaments
of literature. At that early period
Mr. Longfellow was addicted to verse
making, and some of these juvenile

Mi

pOems, written before the age of
eighteen, are preserved in the standard
collection of his writings. They are
mostly descriptive of nature. There is
one among them, a " Hymn of the Mo
ravian Nuns of Bethlehem, at the
Consecration of Pulaski's banner,"
Avhich was something of a favorite
when it appeared, and still has a flavor
akin to that of the many spirited, pic
turesque little poems of its class which
the author has since written.
Most college students who are led
on to pursue literature as a profession;
make their entrance to it after a pre
liminary turn at the law.. The transi
tion is easier from that profession than
from the others. The pulpit and the
scalpel are apt to hold on to their ap
prentices, but the profitless tedium of
the early years at the bar supplies a
vacuum into which anything may rush.
Besides to some, especially those of a
poetical inclination, the study is posi
tively distasteful. The dereliction is
embalmed as an adage in one of Pope's
couplets —
The clerk foredoomed his "father's soul to oross,
Who pens a stanza when he should engross.
We are not aAvare that our poet bad
any difficulty in choosing his vocation!
Probably not, for he fell so readily and

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HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

445

happily into the habits of the scholar
that all must have acquiesced in his
selection of the calling. He was only
nineteen in fact when he was ap
pointed Professor of Modern Languages
at his college at Brunswick, and, ac
cording to a judicious custom in these
New England seats of learning, was
granted the privilege of a preliminary
tour in Europe to qualify himself hand
somely for the post. In 1826, and the
two following years, accordingly, he
made the tour of Europe, plunging at
once into the study of the various lan
guages where they. are best learned,
among the natives of the countiy. He
visited France, Spain, Italy, Germany,
Holland and England. On his return
he lectured at Bowdoin on the modern
languages he had acquired, wrote arti
cles for the " North American Review/'
translated with great felicity the exqui
site stanzas of the Spanish soldier poet
Manrique on the death of his father,
and penned the sketches of his travels
which, with a little romance intermin
gled, make up his pleasant volume, the
first of his collected prose works, en
titled "Outre Mer." In all that he
did there was a nice hand visible, the
touch of a dainty lover of good books,
and appreciator of literary delicacies.
The quaint, the marvellous, the re
mote, the picturesque, were his idols.
He had been to the old curiosity shop
of Europe, and brought home a stock
of antiquated fancies of curious work-,
manship, Avhich, with a little modern
burnishing, would well bear revival.
They were henceforth the decorations
of his verse, the ornaments of his
prose. Everywhere you will find in
n.— 56

his writings, in his own phrase, " some
thing to tickle the imagination " either
of Ms own contrivance, or credited to
the wit and Wisdom, the marrowy con
ceits, of an antique worthy. From
Hans Sachs to Jean Paul; from Dante
to Filicaia ; from Rabelais to Beranger ;
from old Fuller to Charles Lambj the
rare moralists and humorists were at
his disposal. He was never at a loss
for a happy quotation, and he who
quotes well is half an original. His
genius and benevolent nature, its
kindly fellow worker,- supplied the
other half. Such was the promise of
" Outre Mer," a bright, fresh, inviting
book, which a man, taking up at a
happy moment — and every book re
quires its own happy moment— -would
bear in mind, and look out for the next
appearance of its author in print
Then came, in 1835, one of the mi
grations - from the blue bed to the
brown — the Professor of Modern Lan
guages at Bowdoin became Professor
of Modern Languages andLiterature at
Harvard, in the honorable place of Mr.
George Ticknor, resigned. The new
appointment generated another tour in
Europe, and this time the professor
elect chose new ground for his travels.
He visited a '• region then rarely tra
versed by Americans. He went to the
north of Europe, presenting himself in
Denmark and Sweden, beside a pro
tracted stay in Holland, and a second
visit to Germany, France and England
— a profitable tour for his studies, but
a sad one to the poet's heart, for at
Rotterdam, on this tour, he lost his
young wife, the companion of his. jour
ney.

446

HENRI WADSWORTH LONGFELOW.

Returning to America with his inti
macy with his beloved German authors
refreshed by participation in their
home scenes, and a newly acquired
fondness for the northern sagas, des
tined to bear vigorous and healthy
fruit in his writings, he commenced his
duties at Harvard. He removed his
household gods, his "midnight folios,"
to Cambridge, and one summer after
noon, in 1837, as it has been prettily
set forth by his friend Curtis — "the
Howadji," in his sketches of the Homes
of American Authors — established him
self as a lodger in the old Cragie house,
whilom the celebrated head-quarters of
General Washington in the.Revolution.
The house had a history; it was the
very place for the brain-haunted
scholar to live and dream in. A
stately mansion with royalist memories
before the rebel days of Washington,
with flavors of good cheer lingering
about its cellars, and shadoAvy trains of
stately damsels flitting along its halls
and up its wide stairway. Tha place
was rich with traditions of wealthy
merchants and costly hospitalities, nor
had it degenerated, according to the
habit of most honored old mansions, as
it approached the present day. Vene
rable and learned men of Harvard, still
alive, had consecrated it by their studies.
No wonder that the poet professor found
there his "coigne of vantage," and made
there " the pendent bed and procreant
cradle" of his quick-coming fancies.
Many a poem of his goodly volumes has
been generated by the whispers of those
old walls, and thence came forth " from
his still, southeastern upper chamber, in
which Washington nau aiso siept, me i

most delectable of his prose writings,
the romance of " Hyperion."
We well remember the impression
this work made on its appearance,
about 1839, with its wide-spread type
and ample margin, and the pleasant kind
ling thoughts of love, and the beauty
of nature, and old romantic glories, and
quaint Jean Paul, "the only one" —
its criticism of taste and the heart.
It was the first specimen given to
America, we believe, of the art novel,
and a fit audience of youths and
maidens welcomed its sweet utterances.
Everything in it was choice and fra
grant ; the old thoughts from the clois
tered books were scented anew with
living fragrance from the mountains
and the fields. It was a scholars
book with no odor of the musty parch
ment or smell of the midnight lamp.
All was cheerful with the gaiety of
travel ; the sorrow and the pathos were
tempered by the romance — and over all
was the purple light of youth.
" Then came, in a little volume of
verse, the first collection, we believe, of
the author's original poems, "The
Voices of the Night," published at
Cambridge in 1839. It was the great
est hit, we think, take it all together,
ever made by an American poet, for it
created a distinguished poetical reputa
tion at a single blow. Its "Hymn to
the Night," drawing repose
From the cool oisterns of the midnight air ;
its " Psalm of Life "—what the heart of
the young man said to the Psalmist :
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream 1
For the snul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

447

Life is real ! life is earnest !
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul 1
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long and time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle I
Be a hero in the strife !
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant 1
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act — act in the living Present I
' Heart within and God o'erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
n The Reaper and the Flowers," " The
Light of Stars," "The Footsteps of An

gels :"

When the hours of day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;
Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and taL,
Shadows from the fitful firelight
Dance upon the parlor wall ;
Then the forms of, the departed
Enter at the open door ;
The beloved, the true-hearted,
Gome to visit me once more

and, with others, the " Midnight Mass
of the Dying Year:" — these all at
once became popular favorites, and the
echoes of their praises have not yet
died away from the lips of their first
fair admirers. The success, doubtless,
gave the poet confidence — -for, to sing
from the heart, the hearts of others
must respond. It is a game at which
there are two parties, the poet and the
public, and one can do nothing without
the other. The public plighted its
faith to the new poet, and no meddling
critics have since been able to break
the alliance.
Since that first volume appeared,
many others have followed in cream-
colored paper and the brown cloth of
Fields — sacred to poets — all of kindred
excellence, Ballads with Excelsior, and
the lay of Nuremberg, and the " Belfry
of Bruges," Tegner's pastoral, " Children
of the' Lord's Supper," Poems of the
"Seaside and Fireside," "Waifs and
Estrays," "The Spanish Student," a
drama, in rapid sequence. Encouraged
by the reception of these generally
brief and occasional efforts, the poet,
in 1847, essayed a longer flight in his
elaborate poem "Evangeline, A Tale
of Acadie." It Avas written in hexa
meters, a bold attempt upon the public
in the adaptation of a classic measure,
but greatly differing from the severe
crabbed verses of this kind which Sir
Philip Sidney sought to engraft upon
English literature, and failed in attempt
ing. The lines of Mr. Longfellow are
not rugged, nor the pauses difficult to
manage. On the contrary, the verse is
harmonious, an I, if there be any defect,
cloys from its recurring cadence and

448

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

uniformity Goethe had adopted the
measure in his narrative, semi-pastoral
poem, "Herman and Dorothea," the
treatment of Avhich doubtless sug
gested " Evangeline." Beyond this sanc
tion of a great example, the American
poem was little indebted to its German
predecessor. The theme was new and
striking, singularly adapted to the
poet's powers. All readers know the
story, and few have not admired the
beauty of the descriptions, the pictur
esque manners and customs, the exqui
site tenderness of the poem — a tale of
wonderful beauty and pathos, of a rare
setting in the American landscape. It
is by many accounted Mr. Longfellow's
happiest Avork, and is certainly one of
the most inviting and best sustained of
his compositions, felicitous alike in sub
ject and execution.
To "Evangeline," in 1849, succeeded
"Kavanagh," a tale in prose, a New
England idyll. The hero is a poetical
clergyman, who attracts all the beauty
and refinement of the village, unless
the interest which he creates is divided
with the schoolmaster Churchill. There
is much that is pleasant in the manner
of the piece, which has a gentle humor
everywhere lighted up by a poetical
fancy. The " Golden Legend," a bundle 'of
poems tied by a. silken string, carrying
us into the very heart of the middle
ages, was the next production of Mr.
LongfelloAv's muse. It appeared in
1851, was well received, perhaps not
as closely taken to the popular heart
as "Evangeline" — but that could
not be expected with a more remote

deal of reading with much learned in
genuity. The invention, curious and
felicitous, admits of and receives very
wide illustration throughout the medi
eval world of Europe, its religion, its
arts, its schools, its government.
The "Golden Legend" — we thus
chronicled it on its first appearance — is
a volume of three hundred pages of po
etical thoughts and fancies strung upon
the thread of a simple ballad incident
of a knight who grew very unhappy
in the world on account of wickedness
and melancholy, with no better pros
pect for recovery, after a pretty vigor
ous course of church discipline, than
the luck of some maiden's offering up
her life for him — a prescription of the
learned Italian doctors of Salern. Such
a maiden does present herself, one of
his forest peasantry, and, as the prince
belongs to the Rhine, and the event is
to come off in Italy, a journey through
out Europe is the consequence. With
constant variety, as one topic is deli
cately touched upon after another, we
are most agreeably entertained with
forest scenes, town scenes, priestly cere
monies, learned arts, the sanctities of
the cloister, its profanities, quaintly
narrated in a species of rhyme which
is neither heroic nor commonplace, but
singularly in consonance with the half-
earnest, half-ludicrous associations of
the subject. Lucifer, a la Mephisto-
philes, is employed as a mocking spirit,
inspiring evil suggestions, a delighted
showman of evil scenes. Walter de
Vogelweide, the Minnesinger, enters
with a melodious rustling of his gar
ments. A Mystery of the Nativity, a

scholastic subject. It displays a great I fine bit of scholarship of that olden

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

449

time, is celebrated at Strasburg. The
grim legend of Macaber is painted on
the Avails as the monks revel in the
refectories. The School of Salern
thickens with strange forms of living
and dying. These are the outward
circumstances and decorations of a tale
of passion, the object of which is the
evolution of immortal affection. The
catastrophe is of course the .marriage
of the prince, and the peasant girl, and
a happy return to the hereditaiy castle
on the Rhine.
Four years later, in 1855, the poet
made another venture in a novel walk
of composition. The "Song of Hia
watha," a collection of legends of
the North American Indians, in tro
chaic octosyllabic measure, fell strangely
upon American ears. The book was
hardly launched, when, from every
quarter of the heavens, the winds of
criticism blew over the agitated lite
rary sea upon the apparently devoted
bark. Eurus and Notus, and squally
Africus, rushed together and rolled
their vast billows of hostile denuncia
tion upon the publisher's counter. But
propitious Venus held her guardian
course aloft and Neptune reared his
placid head above the tempestuous
waters. In a fortnight the loud blast
of the critics was reduced to4 a piping
treble; indignation subsided to laugh
ter, and laughter gave place to an old
knack of affection, which the public has
always shown for its favorite. The only
crime of Hiawatha was its novelty, its
originality. The olive was liked after
it was tasted. The legends once read,
were read again, and the trochaics were
echoed in a thousand parodies. The

story of the reception of the book is one
of the curiosities of American literature.
The materials of the volume were
rescued from the Dryasdusts and anti
quarians, like Tennyson's legends of
King Arthur's Court, to be preserved
in a gallery of enduring beauty. The
task of the American writer was the
more difficult of the two, in • the appa
rent intractability of the subject. The
fancies of the American savage, painted
on the mists of their meadows, and in
the shadows of their forests, have a
vagueness and unreality, too slight and
vanishing even for verse. These wild,
airy nothings were hardly food sub
stantial enough for a poet's dream. To
catch and cage them in verse was a
master's triumph.
"The Courtship of Miles Standish,"
published in 1858, followed. It is a
return to the measure, the tilting hexa
meters, of " Evangeline," celebrating an
anecdote of love and beauty with the
moral of a grim old suitor employing
youth in his service as an agent to en
trap for him the gentle heart of woman
hood. The warrior achieved many
triumphs in his day over rebels and
Indians, but, stern Achilles as he was,
he had to yield his lovely Briseis.
Fair Priscilla, the Puritan girl, in the solitude of the
forest,
Making the humble house and the modest apparel of
home-spun
Beautiful with her beauty, and rich with the wealth
of her being,
Was not for him, but for John Alden, the fair-haired
taciturn stripling.
That is the whole moral, and quaintly
and picturesquely is it set forth in the
historic costume of the period of the
Pilgrim Fathers.

450

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

These, with the addition of a collec
tion of translations by others of " The
Poets and Poetry of Europe," and a
few "Poems on Slavery," dated 1842,
embrace, Ave believe, the whole of Mr.
Longfellow's acknowledged writings to
the present time. The same general
characteristics run through them: a
learned, exuberant fancy, prodigal of im
agery ; a taste for all that is delicate and
refined, pure and elevated in nature and
art ; a skillful adaptation of old world
sentiment to new world incidents and
impressions; a heightened religious fer
vor as his muse transcends things tem
poral, and reaches forward to the things
which are eternal. The gentle ministry
of poetry, fertile in consolation, has sel

dom soothed human sorrow in more
winning, pathetic tones than have fallen
from the lip£ of this amiable bard, ever
delighting and instructing his race.
It is now some years since Mr. Long
fellow resigned his professorship at
Harvard, to be succeeded by another
disciple of the muses, the accomplished
poet, Lowell ; but he still continues to
breathe the old atmosphere in the
house of Washington, cheered amid
the trials of life by the affections of his
countrymen, and of those who read
the English language throughout the
world. There are few men whom
America has so delighted to honor;
there are none who have better de
served the happy privilege.

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WILLIAM STARK ROSECRANS.

Major-Gekerai, RoseoeAjS's, of the
United States Army, was ;born in
Kingston, . Delaware County, Ohio,
September : 6,, 1819. Of- Prussian de
scent, .the family were among the early
emigrants, by way- of Holland, to the
Dutch- settlement of New" Netherlands,
on the Hudson, out of which grew the
prosperous colony of NeAV York. The
.parents of the subject of this sketch,
natives of Pennsylvania, after their
marriage removed to Ohio, where the
father, an enterprising farmer and man
of business, renowned for his integrity,
acquired a high character for his in
fluence in the region. He served in
the War- of 1812, as adjutairt to a
company of horse, under General Harr
rison. His son William., was intro
duced in his boyhood to tha precocious
activity of the frontier.. " At ' thir
teen," we are told, "he had become
quite a man upon the farm, and at
fourteen Avas sent to the store °f one
David Messenger; seven miles from his
home; to close up the' business, which
he did successfully At times he acted
as book-keeper in, the store, collected-
debts,, and" for some months,- in 1837,
was clerk in a clothing store,."1 It was
in this year, at the age of sighteen,
1 An interesting memoir, in " Annate of the Army of the
Cumberland," by an officer. Philadelphia, 1863.

that he received an appointment to -the
Military Academy at West Point, from
which institution he graduated, with
good' standing as a student,, in 1842,
Avhen he began his military career as
second-lieutenant- of engineers.- After
serving for a- time in this capacity at
Fortress Monroe, he was employed for
several years at West Point as Assistant
Professor of Philosophy and of Engi
neering. From 1847 to 1852 he had
charge of the construction of the har
bor fortifications at Newport, Rhode
Island,. after which he was assigned to
special • duty as constructing engineer
at the Washington Navy Yard. -In
this capacity his ingenuity, and scien
tific . resources proved of eminent use
fulness ; his health failing, however, he
was obliged to ask'for leave of absence,
and presently to retire from the service.
The Government reluctantly accepted
his resignation, when,- in the spring of
1854, he established himself in Cincin
nati as an architect and consulting en
gineer. The next year he Avas induced
to take charge of the interests of an
English and American coal company
in Kanawha County, Virginia, an un
dertaking which he conducted with' his
accustomed scientific ability, surveying
the region, and reporting various plans
of improvement. It was from his prac-
461

452

WILLIAM STARK ROSECRANS.

tical knowledge, gained in these pur
suits, that he was led to engage in
business at Cincinnati as a manufac
turer of coal oil, for which he set up an
extensive establishment. "His first
partner failing to make a marketable
article, General Rosecrans," as we are
informed in the narrative already cited,
" determined to try it himself, and, ac
cordingly, entered the laboratory and
began a series of experiments Avith a
view to the manufacture of a pure and
odorless oil. After sixteen days' labor,
he had about succeeded in his efforts,
when he was terribly burned by the
combustion of benzole gas, caused by
using Avhat was then supposed to be
a pa'tent safety-lamp. Although his
clothes and flesh were badly burned,
he had the presence of mind to make
such dispositions that the fire was ex
tinguished without injury to the works.
He then walked home — a mile and a
half— and took to his bed, where he
lay nearly eighteen months, and for a
time it was doubtful whether he could
recover." At the end of this period
of suffering he Avas enabled to 'resume
his business, which had necessarily suf
fered from his absence, and was en
gaged in this pursuit when the Rebel
lion summoned all persons of military
experience to the field.
Rosecrans was not the man to avoid
such an appeal. Accordingly Ave find
him early engaged in the service of
Ohio, under Governoi Dennison, making
arrangements for the organization and
equipment of the State troops. He had
just been commissioned colonel of the
twenty-third Ohio regiment, when
he received from Washington the ap

pointment which he had solicited, of
brigadier-general of volunteers in the
national service. Reporting himself,
according to orders, to General McClel
lan, he entered at once with that
officer upon the campaign in West'
ern Virginia, which led, on the 9th of
July, 1861, to the Battle of Rich Moun-
tain. In this engagement General Rose
crans bore the' prominent part. The
enemy, it will be remembered, with
about two thousand men, commanded
by Colonel Pegram, were holding the
Beverley Road, at the foot of the
mountain, a pass of the main charge!
of communication between Eastern and
Western Virginia. To secure this po
sition and get in the rear of the main
rebel force in this region, under Gene
ral Garnett, was now the object of
General McClellan. On approaching
the enemy's camp it was ascertained
that a path led over the mountain on
their left to the summit commanding
their position. General Rosecrans was
ordered forward to make the attack
from this point, wheri General McClel
lan would advance in front and secure
the victory. Setting out at dawn,
marching his forces through the woods
in a driving rain, General Rosecrans
came upon the entrenched outpost, of
the enemy in the afternoon, when a
sharp contest occurred, ending in driv
ing them from their position with the
loss of two guns. That night he held
the battle-field, overlooking the rebel
camp, while General McClellan was
preparing for an attack by the road.
The enemy thus invested did not wait
the next day's assault, but before morn
ing began a retreat, in which they were

WILLIAM STARK ROSECRANS.

453

interrupted by General Rosecrans, Avho
captured their camp equipage and a
large number of prisoners.
Their remaining force after this was
rapidly dispersed, General McClellan
was immediately called to the command
of the Army of the Potomac and Gene
ral Rosecrans left to conduct operations
in Western Virginia. In September
his command was again in action in an
advance upon General Floyd's force on
the Gauley River, at Carnifex Ferry.
On reaching the enemy, after a rapid
march, on the tenth, the engagement
began in the afternoon in a reconnois
sance of their position,, which would
have been succeeded by an assault had
not darkness prevented, That .night
General Floyd escaped across the river,
destroying the bridge, and thus secur
ing his retreat. The month of Novem
ber, after various military, evolutions,
found both parties in array in the
region at the head of the Kanawha
Valley, bounded by the New and Gau
ley Rivers. General Rosecrans held
the right bank of the New River, Gene
ral Floyd the left , Dispositions were
skillfully made by the former for the
passage of the river and the capture of
the foe, who again fled at the .'near ap
proach of the Union forces. The year's
campaign, in the words of General
Rosecraris' address to his troops, closed
Avith "the substantial fruits of victory
Western Virginia belongs to herself,
and. the invader is expelled from her
soiL" .
General Rosecrans remained in com
mand in Western Virginia, actively
, employing the. limited resources at his
disposal, anxiously seeking to coope-
n.— 57

rate with the main Army of the Poto
mac, till, in the spring of 1862, he Avas
superseded, by the creation of the Moun
tain Department, assigned to General
Fremont. In. May he was ordered to
report to General Halleck, then before.
Corinth, Mississippi, and arrived at this
new theatre of operations, in which he
was destined to be so conspicuous, in
time to .participate in the capture of
that stronghold of the enemy When,
in the following month, General Pope
was called to Virginia, General Rose
crans succeeded to the command of
his army corps in the department. The
division was known as the Army ofrthe
Mississippi. In September it was called
upon to resist the advance of a large
Confederate force, under General Price.
who was operating to assist the move
ment of General Bragg upon Kentucky.
General Rosecrans, from his head-quar
ters near Corinth, went forward and
victoriously met the enemy at Iuka.
General Rosecrans now strengthened
his position at Corinth, diligently for
tifying and preparing for the enemy
who were gathering their forces for a
renewed attack. Price was joined by
Van Dora, and the positions of Grant
in Tennessee and Rosecrans in. Missis
sippi were alike threatened. It was
the expectation of the latter, that the
enemy, masking his strong position,
would advance to the north, when he
could give battle and cut off their re
treat. Their intention, however, Avas
to attack Corinth, which, taking advan
tage of the favorable condition of the
country in the dry season, they ap
proached by way of Chewalla. They
came up, were met by the Union army

454

WILLIAM ST A RFC ROSECRANS.

on the 3d and 4th of October, and
Avere signally defeated.
Immediately after this second battle
of Corinth, General Rosecrans was
assigned to the command of the new
Department of the Cumberland, Avith
its field of operations in Central Ten
nessee. Carefully restoring the lines
of communication which had been
broken in the recent invasion of Ken
tucky, he advanced from the latter
State and established his head-quarters,
in November, at Nashville. There, in
his camp before the city, he devoted
himself, with his usual assiduity to the
organization and equipment of the re
cent levies, of which his force was
largely composed — in fact, to the crea
tion of an army. When his communi
cations Avere fully established, sufficient
supplies secured, and his army in con
dition, at the end of December he re
solved upon a forward movement
against the enemy, who, under the
command of General Bragg, were en
camped in A'arious positions in front of
Murfreesboro, about thirty miles south
east of Nashville. The Union army,
numbering in all about ' forty-seven
thousand, of which, only about three
thousand were cavalry, began its ad
vance on the morning of the 26th of
December, by different roads, in three
divisions, under Generals McCook, Tho
mas, and Crittenden. On the thirtieth,
after heavy skirmishing by the way,
the several divisions had succeeded in
occupying positions immediately in
front of the enemy, whose forces Avere
noAV draAvn up in a line about three
miles in length, extending from the
Stono River, irregularly, to the south-

Avest, and being about tAvo miles dis
tant from Murfreesboro, the river Avind
ing between. The hostile fronts were,
for the most part, within half a mile
apart. General McCook held the Union
right, Thomas the centre, and Critten
den the left. It was the plan of. Gene
ral Rosecrans to hold the force engaged
which Avas opposed to his right and
centre, while Crittenden, on his left,
was to cross the river by a ford, attack
the division of Breckinridge in that
quarter, and open a way to Murfrees
boro. The rear of the Confederate
army would thus be gained, when a
vigorous movement, on both sides.
might be expected to rout it -utterly.
This -calculation was defeated in the
action of the following day, by the
enemy massing his troops on his left,
attacking McCook's forces on the Union
right, one division of which after an
other was compelled to retire before
the resistless shock. The main effort
of General Rosecrans was thus turned
to repair this disaster and meet the foe,
by bringing up and strengthening his
centre. The left of the right wing was
thus relieved of pressure. The artil
lery was advantageously placed, in
flicting heavy losses upon the foe, wha
quailed before it. The enemy was re
pulsed from the new line, the original
position on the left being undisturbed.
Thus closed the Slst of December.
"We had lost heavily," says General
Rosecrans in his report, " in killed and
wounded, and a considerable number in
stragglers and prisoners ; also twenty-
eight pieces of artillery, the horses
having been slain, and our troops being
unable to Avithdraw them by hand over

the rough ground ; but the enemy had
been , roughly handled and badly da
maged at all points. . . . Orders
were given for the issue of all the
spare ammunition, and we found that
we had enough for another battle, the
only question being where that battle
was to be fought."
Armed with this resolution, General
Rosecrans still retaining his hold on
the river, retired a portion of his left
to more advantageous ground, and so
skillfully were his dispositions made
that two demonstrations made by the
enemy the next day, the 1st of January,
were readily repulsed. On the second
there was another attack by the foe
upon a portion of Crittenden's division,
which had crossed the river, which was
compelled to retire when that general
brought his batteries to bear from the
west side of the river, with fearful effect.
" The firing," says General Rosecrans,
" Avas terrific, and the havoc terrible.
The enemy retreated more rapidly than
they had advanced ; in forty minutes
they lost two thousand men." Some
important advantage was also gained
on the enemy's left flank. Night and
a storm of rain prevented their being
pursued into Murfreesboro. The next
day a heavy rain impeded army move
ments, but there was some sharp-skir
mishing, showing the unabated spirit
of the Union troops. " Sunday morning,
the 4th of January," says General Rose
crans, " it -was not deemed advisable
to commence offensive movements, and
n :ws soon reached us that the enemy

had fled from Murfreesboro. Burial
parties were sent out to bury the dead,
and the cavalry was sent to recon
noitre." The severely contested battle
Avas ended. In these engagements fully
one-fifth of the entire Union force in
action was killed or wounded. The
enemy, according to a calculation made
by General Rosecrans, numbered about
a third more than his own forces, and
suffered in a still greater proportion.
Well might the Union commander-in-
chief, with a piety characterizing his
disposition, exclaim : " With ail the
facts of this battle fully before me, the
relative numbers and positions of our
troops and those of the rebels, the gal
lantry and obstinacy of the contest,
and the final result, I say, from convic
tion, and as, a public acknowledgment
due to Almighty God, in closing this
report, ' non nobis, Domine, non nobis,
sed nomine tuo da gloriam.' "
In the campaign in the Department
of the Cumberland in the autumn of
1863, Rosecrans advanced in the face
of the superior forces of the Confeder
ates, until he was checked at the battle
of Chickamauga by General Bragg,
after which General Grant coming up
with his army, took the command.
In January, 1864, General Rosecrans'
Department was enlarged, and the
troops under him were divided into
four army corps. He Avas subsequently
made military commander of Missouri,
At the close of President Johnson's ad
ministration, General Rosecrans wa?
sent as minister to Mexico,

ULYSSES S. GRANT

General I nvssEs S. Grant, of the
United States Army, was born at Point
Pleasant, Clermont County, Ohio, April
27th, 1822. Entering the Military
Academy at West Point, from his native
State, at the age of seventeen, he grad
uated at that institution with distinction
in 1843, when he received the brevet
appointment of second-lieutenant in the
fourth infantry. He served with distinc
tion in all the various campaigns under
Taylor and Scott, in the Mexican War.
In the summer of 1854, he resigned his
commission and settled in St. Louis
County, Missouri, whence in 1860, he re
moved to Galena, Illinois, where he was
engaged in commercial pursuits when the
outbreak of the Great Rebellion again
summoned him to the field. He im
mediately offered his services to Gover
nor Yates, was appointed colonel' of the
twenty- first regiment of Illinois volun
teers, and was at once employed in
active service in Missouri. '
In August, 1861,^ he was created a
brigadier-general of volunteers, his com
mission dating from j;he 19th of May.
He was now placed in commarid of the
district of south-eastern Missouri, at
the junction of the Ohio and Missis
sippi Rivers, with his head-quarters at
Cairo. On the 6th of November he
led an expedition against the position

of the enemy at Belm6nt, opposite
Columbus, on the. Mississippi. Their
camp was attacked the following' day,
and a severe engagement ensued, with
heavy losses on both sides, the enemy
remaining masters of the field. He had
previously, in September, on the ad
vance of the rebels to Columbus, taken
military possession of Paducah, at the
mouth of the : Tennessee River, in
Kentucky — a timely proceeding of the
utmost importance. The reduction of
Fort Henry, a Confederate stronghold
on the Tennessee River, Avas one of the
first fruits of the movement The joint
military and naval expedition which
successfully accomplished this work on
the 6th of Eebruary, was led by General
Grant and Commodore Foote. The
gun- boats attacked the fort in -front
while the troops landed aud made: a
detour, coming np in the rear.
Fort Henry was taken by the navy.
In the attack on Fort Donelson, on the
Cumberland, Avhich immediately fol
lowed, the victory was gained by the
army. The Avell-entrenched, advanta
geous position of the enemy presented
many difficulties ; but they Avere over
come by the energy of General Giant
and the officers under his command.
The land operations, which commenced
on the 12th of February were con-

450

ULYSSES S. GRANT.

457

tinued with frequent conflicts — the gun
boats being beaten off in the river on
one of the days — till the morning of the
sixteenth, when the enemy, having been
repulsed in their attack Of the previous
day, and a decisive advantage gained
by the Union forces, it was determined
by the rebel officers in command to
surrender the fort Generals Pillow
and Floyd, with a portion of the garri
son, had already abandoned the works,
leaving General Buckner to arrange
the' terms of capitulation. He" asked
for terms and an armistice, to which
General Grant replied, "No terms ex
cept unconditional and immediate sur
render can be accepted. I propose to
move immediately on your works."
The situation was such that General
Buckner was compelled to accept the
terms. Ten thousand prisoners conse
quently laid down their arms, and the
fort, with its forty cannon and vast
quantities of stores and equipments,
passed into the hands of General Grant.
For this achievement he was created a
major-general of volunteers.
Two months later, occurred the battle
of Pittsburgh Landing, on the Tennessee
River. The first day of the action the
field was swept by the enemy, and the
Union forces driven to the river, where
they were partially protected by the gu n-
boats. The next day, General Buell's
army and other reinforcements having
arrived, the contest was resumed, and
after a series of severe contests, the
enemy, commanded by Generals A. S.
Johnston and Beauregard, was routed
and compelled to retreat. At the begin
ning of the battle, General Grant was
at his head-quarters at SaA'annah, but
hearing of the action, immediately

reached the ground, and was engaged
on the field in the afternoon rallying
his broken divisions, while he bore ;a
conspicuous part in the decisive repulse
of the following day. General Halleck,
the head of the department, presently
taking the field, General Grant became
second in command.
Subsequently, after the evacuation of
Corinth by the enemy, when General
Halleck was called to Washington as
General-in-Chief, General Grant was,
in September, assigned to the command
of the Army of West Tennessee. The
battles of Iuka and the second battle
at Corinth, in September and October,
proved the successful management of
his department. His command having
been greatly increased, he established
his head-quarters, in December, at
Holly Springs, in Mississippi, and
thenceforth was engaged in the arduous
operations in that State, which for
many months employed the forces on
the Mississippi, till final Arictory crowned
their efforts in the capture of Vicks
burg, with its garrison — a triumph
doubly memorable by its association
with the day of Independence— the full
surrender being made and the* flag
raised on the vaunted rebel stronghold
on the 4th of July, 1863. For this
eminent service, General Grant was
promoted major-general in the regular
army. General Grant remained in his de
partment of the Mississippi, till in, Oc
tober he was again called to the field, in
consequence of the defeat of Rosencrans
at Chickamauga. In the succeeding
battle of Chattanooga, he attacked the
enemy in his own position, and after a
series of conflicts, among the severest

458

ULYSSES S. GRANT.

in the war, the Union troops led by
Hooker and Sherman drove the rebels
from their lines, forcing Bragg to re
treat into Georgia, and thus exposing
the centre of the Confederate States.
In consequence of these brilliant suc
cesses, the grade of Lieutenant-General
was revived by Congress and conferred
upon General Grant. He was now
Commander-in-Chief of all the armies
of the United States. Having the
whole country now open before him to
choose his field of operations, he deter
mined to attack the enemy in Virginia,
where the head-quarters of the Rebel
lion had hitherto resisted the successive
attacks of the Northern Generals.
Grant took the command of the
army of the Potomac in person, and
moved from his head-quarters at Cul
pepper Court-House on the 4th of
May, with the object of putting him
self between Richmond and Lee's army
which was then a few miles distant
at Orange Court-House. The enemy,
however, apprised of his movement,
fell upon his flank and the two days
fighting in the Wilderness that en
sued were among the bloodiest conflicts
of the war. Grant barely held his
ground, but although the losses he
sustained were as great as those which
had driven Hooker and Meade back to
Washington, he held on to the design
of cutting the rebel line, and before the
last gun was fired in the Wilderness,
his front had again encountered Lee's
troops at Spottsylvania. Here the
contest was renewed, and lasted with
various movements and great slaughter
for twelve days. Failing in this, by a
flank movement, he then directed his I
forces to strategic points of importance j

on the road to Richmond, successfully
accomplishing, though not without op
position the passage of the North Anna,
to encamp again on the old battle
grounds of McClellan. The struggle was
renewed in a desperate but impracti
cable assault on the enemy's line at
Chickahominy. From this point the contest was
rapidly transferred to the James River ;
Petersburg was invested and the effort
henceforth was to command the enemy's
supplies and draw closer the lines of
the siege by cutting off his communica
tions by railroad with the granaries of
the South. When that region was de
vastated by the march of Sherman to
the sea, and the force of the Rebellion in
men and provisions Avas fairly exhaust
ed, then, and not till then, he yielded
to the steady and repeated blows of
Grant and his generals. The surren
der took place at Appomattox Court-
House, on the 9th of April, 1865, in a
personal interview between the two
commanders, Grant accepting liberal
terms of capitulation. '
These successes of Grant in the field,
in terminating the war, with the good
sense and ability, mingled firmness
and moderation which he had uniformly
displayed as a leader of events, marked
him out as the inevitable candidate foi
the presidency of the party to Avhom
had fallen the conduct of the war, and
when the Republican National Con
vention met at Chicago in May, 1868,
Grant was unanimously nominated for
President, in the first ballot. -This
nomination was ratified at the election
in November, by the vote of twenty-six
States, his majority in the direct vote
being more than three hundred thousand.

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NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS

Nathaniel Prentiss Banks was born
at the manufacturing toAvn of Wal-
tham, Mass.; January, 30th, 1816. His
father was .overseer of a cotton mill, and
¦early introduced his. son to/an indus
trial employment in -the establishment,
from which he derived his familiar
appellation—" the. bobbin boy." With
this practical species- of education he
received some instruction at the village
school in the elementary branches of
knoAvledge. The. training was slight,
but the seed soAvn fell in no reluctant
soil. The youth exhibited, a fondness
for intellectual pursuits, and profited
by the means everywhere inviting him
in a New England atmosphere. Join
ing a dramatic company composed of
his associates, we are told by one of
his biographers, he soon displayed
such ability in. that. direction as to be
offered inducements to become a pro
fessional actor. He was of too- solid a
disposition, however, to listen to such
allurements, and preferred a less attrac
tive calling. He learned the trade of a
machinest, arid worked at it as a jour
neyman, in Boston He also, we are
told, taught an evening school some
time, and conducted a newspaper at
Waltham — thus practising the two pro
fessions of schoolmaster and editor,
which have been at the- basis- of the

advancement, in political life, of many
men in America. In addition to these
multifarious employments, he occasion
ally lectured before lyceuins, tempe
rance meetings, and political gather
ings. From this varied discipline the
young man emerged into political life.
His first entrance .upon a career in
which he was to become so distin
guished, was not Avithout its difficul
ties. Six times he Avas a candidate of
the Democratic party for representa
tive to the Massachusetts Legislature,
and was as often defeated. On a
seventh trial, in 1849, he Avas elected.
He held, about this time, under the
administration of President Polk, an
office in the Boston Custom House.
Applying himself,- meanwhile, to the
study of the law, he was admitted to
the bar in 1850. The following year
he was chosen Speaker of the Lower
House of the Legislature, and in 1852,
was, by a coalition of the Democratic
with the Free-Soil party, elected , a
member of the national House of Re
presentatives. In 1853 he presided
over ,the Convention held in Massachu-
settsfor the revision-of the State Con
stitution. His course in Congress
marked him out as a man of ability,
and gave indications of the future poli-

iS*

4G0

NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS.

tical leader of the -Republican party,
then in its infancy A second time he
had the good fortune to secure his
election to the House of Representa
tives, in this instance by a union of
the Know Nothings and Republicans.
Then, in the new.Congress of 1855, came
the protracted struggle for Speaker,
which, battled for more than twO
months and in more than a hundred bal
lotings, resulted in his election to that
office. The courtesy and .fairness with
which he performed the duty, secured
the respect of all parties. A third
time chosen to Congress, he resigned
to accept the office of Governor of Mas
sachusetts, to Which he was elected by
the American and Republican party
in 1857, and again in 1858 ; refusing to
become again a candidate, With the
desire of making some better provision
for his family, he removed to the West,
accepting the lucrative position of Gen
eral Superintendent of the Illinois Cen
tral Railroad.
The election of President Lincoln
had now given the sanction of the pub
lic to the principles which Governor
Banks had advocated, and the Rebellion
of the South was bringing them, to a
sharper controversy than the old poli
tical agitations of Congress. Mr. Banks
saw clearly the nature of the coming
contest, and was ready to take the field
in defence of his faith. He offered his
services in the war, and was appointed,
on the 30th May, 1861, major-general
of volunteers His first duty was, as
the successor of General Butler, in com
mand of the Department of Annapolis.
In the unsettled condition of Maryland,
and especially of its capital, where he

established his head-quarters, it was a
delicate office which he had to main
tain in holding the State steady to its
allegiance. He brought to the task,
however, an integrity and love of jus
tice — a courtesy blended with firmness
which carried him through all difficul
ties. His reform of the Police Depart
ment was conducted with military en
ergy, and when, after the battle of Bull
Rim, he was called to active service, to
take command at Harper's Ferry, he
left his department — so far as his efforts
to establish order were concerned — in
a satisfactory condition.
General Banks was in command on
the Upper Potomac during the pro
tracted interval of military preparation
which succeeded, and in the following
spring of 1862, on the reorganization
of the army, he was assigned to the
command of the fifth corps. In the
general advance of the Army of the
Potomac, he led the way in the occu
pation of Harper's Ferry and the lower
portion of the Valley of Virginia, in
concert with the movement of General
McClellan upon Manassas. The battle
of Winchester was fought on the 23d
of March, by a portion of his com
mand, under General Shields. General
Banks immediately followed the enemy,
pursuing them in their rapid retreat up
the valley to the vicinity of Staunton.
This was accomplished by the middle
of April; but the advantages of the
movement proved less than had been
expected. The Union troops were pre
sently withdrawn nearer their base of
supplies, to Strasburgh, and, toward
the end of May were attacked at Front
Royal by the adArance of Jackson's and

NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANES.

461

Swell's force, Avhich was sent down the
valley to effect a diversion to prevent
the meditated reinforcement of General
McClellan's army, now before Rich
mond. The movement was made with
spirit and in overwhelming force, com
pelling General Banks to seek safety
from utter destruction in a prudent re
treat. This he accomplished with great
skill, anticipating the enemy in a rapid
movement of the main column to Win
chester, whence, after a sharp engage
ment with a portion of their forces in
the vicinity of that place, he without
delay hastened onward, by way of Mar-
tinsburg, to. the Potomac. The column
arrived at the river at sundown, on the
eArening of the 25th of May, forty-eight
hours after the first news of the attack
on Port Royal.
In August, General Banks was again'
in action, in the campaign of General
Pope, in the battle of Cedar Mountain,
on the line of the railway, beyond Cul
pepper, when the Union troops were
again confronted by the forces of Ewell
and Jackson. General Banks held an
important position, a few miles south
of Culpepper, when the enemy, on the
tenth, advanced to Cedar Mountain.
The engagement took place in the even
ing between six and seven, General
Banks advancing to the attack, and
was continued by the artillery during
the night. It was a closely-contested
battle, both sides suffering severely.
In the ensuing autumn General
Banks was employed in collecting and
organizing an expedition, with which
he set sail from New York at the be
ginning of December. Its destination,

which at the time was carefully con
cealed, proved to be New Orleans,
whither General Banks was sent with
a considerable force, to succeed General
Butler in command of the Department
of the Gulf, with a view of carrying on
a new series of military operations in
Mississippi, Western Louisiana, and
Texas. Having thoroughly organized
his forces, he took the field in the spring
of 1863, in an expedition into the Teche
region, in Louisiana, west of the Missis
sippi. The enemy were routed in sev
eral engagements in April, and impor
tant conquests effected, cutting off the
rebel supplies sent to Port Hudson, to
which General Banks next turned his
attention. This advantageous position
had been fortified with skill, and now
rivalled Vicksburg, as a stronghold of
the enemy on the river. It Avas closely
invested by General Banks, and after
more than two months' siege, marked
by severe fighting, the garrison surren
dered on the 8th of July, a feAV days
after the fall of Vicksburg. Thus was
effectually accomplished one of the
prime objects of General Banks' South
ern expedition, the long- desired "re
opening of the navigation of the Mis
sissippi^ The failure of the bloody and disas
trous campaign in Western Louisiana
caused General Banks to be superseded
in his command. During the remain
der of the war, and for a period after
its close, he remained in New Orleans,
and was admitted to the bar of Louisi-
Returning to the North, he was

ana.

elected to Congress from Massachusetts
in 1865.

h.— 58

ANDREW JOHNSON.

Among the many public men in the
United States who have risen to dis
tinction from humble circumstances by
industry and natural force of character,
Andrew Johnson, of Tennessee, by for
tune and position, is certainly not the
least noticeable. Born of poor parents,
in Raleigh, North Carolina, December
29th, 1808, he was apprenticed in his
boyhood to a tailor, and was engaged
in this occupation in South Carolina till
the age of. seventeen. He subsequently
established himself at Greenville, Ten
nessee. Pursuing there . a life of in
dustry, working out meanwhile by his
own exertions the problem of educa
tion— for he had never attended school
— :he prospered in the world, and hav
ing a disposition to public life!, with a
talent for speaking, he soon became
known as a politician. He was elected
Mayor, of (Jreenyille in 1830,was chos
en a member o.t the State. Legislature.
in 1835," and, of , the State- Senate in
1841. In 1857, crowning this rapid
series of honorable political promotions,
he took his seat as, United States Sena
tor for the full term.ending in 1863.,
A man of the people, he. represented.
in the Senate the strongly-nurtured
democratic energy and instincts of the
West. In that memorable session, in
the closing months of President Bu

chanan's administration when Ahe
Southern members were abandoning
their posts, preparatory to their work
of treason, he stood unmoved^ strenu
ously opposing every exhibition of dis
loyalty, and calling resolutely on all
to maintain -the Constitution and the
integrity" of the Union as the secure
and only basis of popular rights. -
In the struggle which followed, Sen
ator Johnson rendered eminent service
by his speeches and : influence to the
national cause. At - length, in the
spring of 1862, the Union victories in
Tennessee having resulted, in the .mili
tary occupation of Nashville, his patri
otism was rewarded by the' appoint
ment, with the rank . of brigadier-
general of volunteers, of military Gov
ernor of Tennessee.; .
At the meeting of the National Con
vention of theRepublican party, which
assembled at; Baltimore on the 7th of
June,1864, Andrew; Johnson was nom
inated for Vice President ori the ticket
with, President Lipcoln. After his elec
tion he remained; in Washington, and
was one of .the eminent heads Of -the
Government, marked put by the assas
sin Booth and his fellow conspirators
to be murdered at the development
of their fiendish plot in April, on the
anniversary of the attack upon Fort

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ANDREW JOHNSON.

463

Sumter. Narrowly escaping this fate
by the timidity or reluctance of the
person to whom his murder was assign
ed, he was, on the instant, at the imme
diate fatal termination of the wound
inflicted upon President Lincoln, called
to be his successor in office. The oath
of office as President was administered
to him by Chief Justice Chase, in the
forenoon of the fourteenth of April, a
few hours after President Lincoln's de
cease, at his rooms at the Kirkwood
House, in Washington.
The presidential term of President
Johnson will occupy a peculiar place
in the political history of the country.
The war being ended, his sympathies,
which had been so strongly enlisted in
upholding the National Union, and had
led him to an alliance with the Repub
licans — now returning to their old chan
nel — brought him again in concert with
the Democratic party? It Avas his for
tune thenceforth during his term of
office to be in a state of perpetual dis
agreement with the measures which
Congress adopted in the government of
the late disaffected States and otherwise
in the work of reconstruction. Want
of confidence and suspicion led to hos
tility ; there was but little reticence on
either side; the leaders of the House
of Representatives were unsparing in
their denunciations ; the President, who
never practised any concealment of his
thoughts, indulged freely in recrimina
tion, by pen and speech ; laws were
passed, to receive, time and again, the
Presidential veto, and to be re-adopted
' and made the law of the land by con
stitutional majorities.
The alleged violation of the Tenure
of Office act formed the ground of sev

eral articles of the formidable " Im
peachment" of the President, -brought
by the House of Representatives exactly
a year afterwards. In August, 1867,
President Johnson suspended Secretary
Stanton from office as Secretary of War,
and appointed General Grant as his
successor ad interim. Stanton strongly
protested, but yielded the office to
Grant, who discharged its duties till,
at their next meeting in January, the
Senate refused to concur in Mr. Stan
ton's suspension, upon which Grant re
tired, thus reinstating Stanton in office,
Avhilst President Johnson endeavored
to prevent this result, appointing and
seeking to establish Adjutant-General
Thomas in the position. Stanton, how
ever, took and kept possession of the
office till the failure of the impeachment
in May induced his resignation. The
Impeachment trial began in the Senate
on the 30th March, 1867, and termi
nated in a final vote on the 26th May,
the question having been taken on only
three of the articles of the eleven. The
verdict was a close one, just failing the
requisite two-thirds vote — thirty-five
voting guilty, nineteen not guilty, on
the test articles. The Court then ad
journed sine die.
On the eve of retiring from the office
of the Presidency, Mr. Johnson sent
forth a farewell address, in which he
dwelt in his' usual unhesitating man
ner upon his difficulties with Congress,
and, in return for the " impeachment"
which had been inflicted upon him,
charged that body with a formidable
array of grievances. With these and
other bitter parting words, he retired
from office, and a few days afterwards
left for his old home in Tennessee.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

William 0 jllen Bryant was born
at Cummington, Hampshire County,
Massachusetts, November 3d, 1794.
His father, Dr. Peter Bryant, Avas a phy
sician whose character and attainments
are spoken of with high respect. He
was married to a lady "of excellent
understanding and high character, re
markable for judgment and decision, as
for faithfulness to her domestic duties."
Of an active mind, Dr. Bryant was
versed in literature and science, and
took an honest pride in the culture of
his son, who exhibited an early mental
development. In one of the poems of
the mature man, the " Hymn to Death,"
Avritten in 1825, after celebrating in a
lofty strain, the moral uses of the King
of Terrors, the poet turns to a tribute
-to the memory of his father :
,Alas ! I little thought that the stern power
Whose fearful praise I sung, -would try me thus
Before the strain was ended. It must cease —
For he is in his grave who taught my youth
The art of verse, and in the bud of life
Offered me to the muses. Oh, cut off
Untimely 1 when thy reason in its strength,
Eipened by years of toil and studious search,
And watch of Nature's silent lessons, taught
Thy hand to practise best the lenient art
To which thou gavest thy laborious days,
And, last, thy life. And, therefore, when the Earth
Received thee, tears were in unyielding eyes
And on hard cheeks, and they who deemed thy skill
pelayed thoir death lour, shuddered and turned pale
464

When thou wert gone. This faltering verse, whici
thou
Shalt not, as wont, o'erlook, is all I have
To offer at thy grave — this — and the hope
To copy thy example, and to- leave
A name of which the wretched shall not think
As of an enemy's, whom they forgive
As all forgive; the dead.
In the poem "To the Past," theie is
another allusion of similar tenor. From
these it appears that the son traces
much of his taste for literature to the
example and encouragement of his
parent. His very childhood, indeed,
was marked by great precocity. At
ten, we are told, he was a contributor
of verses to the neighboring "Hamp
shire Gazette," at Northampton;.5 and
judging from those which he published
a very few years after, they were,
doubtless, quite respectable. Besides
this home culture, the youth received
the instructions at school, of the Rev.
Mr. Snell, of Brookfield, and of the
Rev. Mr. Hallock, of Plainfield, Mass.
He was prepared by their care for
William's College, Avhich he entered as
a sophomore, in his sixteenth year, in
1810. The year previously to this, ap
peared a thin little pamphlet of poems -
from his pen, at Boston, entitled "The
Embargo; or Sketches of the Times.
A Satire. The second Edition, cor
rected and enlarged, together with the

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WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

465

Spanish Revolution and other poems."
The preface to the leading poem bears
date, Cummington, October 25th, 1808,
and the rest are -dated still earlier.
The poems, therefore, Avere written be
fore the author had completed his four
teenth year, a remarkable instance of
early poetical cultivation, when we
consider both the subject matter of the
poems and their execution. The "Em
bargo, . a Satire," as its title suggests
was written from the New England
Federal point of view, and levelled at
that monster, in the eyes of all devout
persons in that region — Thomas Jeffer
son. . The young bard mourns the de
cline of commerce, and deprecates the
fate of the country throAvn into the
arms of France. The picture of the
President himself is sufficiently per
sonal, but it is by no means more
severe than what older rhymsters, and
even grave divines from their pulpits
were saying. That a mere boy should
put all this feeling of the times into
three or four hundred good set verses
is something extraordinary. The critics
of the excellent " Monthly Anthology "
a critical journal of the savans at Bos
ton, Avould not believe the fact of the
extreme youth of the writer, and an
advertisement or certificate was, in con
sequence, appended to the second edi
tion vouching for the fact.
At college Mr. Bryant was distin
guished, as might have been antici
pated, by his fondness for the classics.
He did not, hoAvever, pursue his studies
to the close of the course at Williams
burg, but left Avith an honorable dis
missal, with the intention of com
pleting this portion of his education at

Yale. From this he was diverted to
the immediate study of the law, at first
with Judge Howe, of Washington, in
his native State, and afterwards with
Mr. William Baylies, of Bridgewater
He was, at the age of twenty-one, ad
mitted to the bar, at Plymouth, when
he engaged in the practice of the pro
fession for a year, at Plainfield, near his
birth-place, and then removed to Great
Barrington, in Berkshire. There-, in
1821, he was married to Miss Frances
Fairchild, a most happy union, worthy
a poet's home.
From this brief allusion to Mr. Bry
ant's law pursuits, we must turn to
narrate his history as a poet. In 1816
appeared in the " North American Re
view," perhaps to this day the most
popularly known of his productions,
the lines entitled " Thanatopsis." They
were written four years before, Avhen
the poet was but eighteen. Their lofty
declamation on the solemn theme still
finds an echo in the hearts of all
readers, and will Avhile life continues
to be devoured by death. They are
recited by schoolboys, they are found
in popular collections, both English
and American; they are heard often
from the pulpit, Avith their wealth of
imagination, their noble topics of con
solation,- and incentive to manly en
deavor :
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

466

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

We may well believe the story of
the fond father, though " a somewhat
stern and silent man," melting into
tears at the recital of these verses. Nor
does the poem stand alone at this early
period, the daAvn of the poet's career.
The " Inscription for an Entrance into
a Wood " Avas written the year after,
in 1813. It is in the same easy, sono
rous, Avell-modulated, blank verse, and
stands as a prelude to many of the
author's subsequent poems, Avhich have
drawn a genuine inspiration from that
woodland — a real American forest, Avith
all its peculiarities of light and foliage,
of rock and rivulet, its rustling leaves,
its busy animal life and the minstrelsy
of its winds. The "Lines to a Water-
foAvl," an exquisite carving against the
clear sky, Avorthy companionship with
the finely- wrought lyrics of ancient
Greece, is dated 1816. The author's
longest poem, "The Ages," was de
livered the year of his marriage as a
Phi Beta Kappa poem at Harvard. It
is written in the Spenserian measure,
the recurring rhyme and lengthened
line at the close falling on the ear with
an added burden of thought and sen
timent, as the poet, in historic review,
celebrates the progress of the Avorld in
liberty and virtue, and dissipates the
doubt so feelingly expressed at the
onset, as he contemplates the departure
of the ATirtuous.
Lest goodness die with them and leave the coming
years.
The poem is varied by a succession
of the most pleasing imagery: — pic
tures of man and nature ; of Greece, of
Rome, of mediaeval Europe, of our own
forest land and rising civilization :

Thus error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven;
They fade, they fly — but truth survives _ their
flight ;
Earth has no shades to. quench that beam of heaven ¦
Each ray that shone, in'early time, to light
The faltering footsteps in the path of right,
Each gleam of clearer brightness shed to aid
In man's maturer day his bolder sight,
All blended, like the rainbow's radiant braid,
Pour yet, and still shall pour, the blaze that cannct
fade.
It is still the burden of the poet's
song, the cause that cannot die, "the
blaze that cannot fade." We may
trace the unyielding sentiment in many
of his after poems — in that noble strain
of eloquence, " The Antiquity of Free
dom :"
O Freedom ! thou art not, as poets dream,
A fair young girl, with light and delicate limbs,
And wavy tresses gushing from the cap
With which the Roman master crowned his slave
AVhen he took off the gyves. A bearded man,
Armed to the teeth, art thou ; one mailed hand
Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword; thy
brow,
Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred
With tokens of old wars ; thy massive limbs
Are strong with struggling. Power at thee has
launched
His bolts, and with his lightnings smitten thee ;
They could not quench the life thou hast from
heaven.
Merciless power has dug thy dungeon deep,
And his swart armorers, by a thousand fires,
Have forged thy chain; yet, while he deems thee
bound,
The links are shivered, and the prison walls
Fall outward ; terribly thou springest forth,
As springs the flame above a burning pile,
And slioutest to the nations, who return
Thy shoutings, while the pale oppressor flies.
in the sublime consolation of the K Bat
tie Field :"
A friendless warfare ! lingering long
Through weary day and weary year.
A wild and many-weaponed throng
Hang on thy front, and flank, and real.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

467

Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof,
And blench not at thy chosen lot.
The timid good may stand aloof,
The sage may frown — yet faint thou not.
Nor heed the shaft too surely cast,
The foul and hissing bolt of scorn ;
For with thy side shall dwell at last,
The victory of endurance born.
Truth crushed to earth shall rise again ;
The eternal years of God are hers ;
But Error, wounded, writhes with pain,
And dies among his worshippers.
— in many of the author's prose writ
ings ; in his daily survey, in the journal
which he edits, of all that in the provi
dence Of Heaven throughout the world
ministers to human freedom, virtue,
and happiness.
After ten years spent in the practice
of the laAV, having achieved no little
distinction by the publication of the
first volume of his poems, and become
familiar with literary employments, by
his contributions to the " Boston Lite
rary Gazette," Mr. Bryant, by the ad
vice of his friend Mr. Henry D. Sedg
wick, removed to the city of New
York, Avith the intention of pursuing
the career of a man of letters. He at
once became associated vrith Mr. Henry
James Anderson, an accomplished scho
lar, in editing the "NeAV York Re-
Adew," a monthly publication of much
literary. merit of those days, Avhich the
folloAving year was merged in a similar
work entitled " The United States Re
view and Literary Gazette," which in
turn was brought to an end in a brace
of volumes in the autumn of 1827.
Mr. Bryant Avrote many just and forci
ble reviews for these publications, in
maintaining which, he had the assist

ance, as contributors, of his early
friend Mr. Richard H. Dana, Robert
C. Sands, and the poet Halleck. There
also appeared many of his poems, as
"The Death of the Flowers," "The
Disinterred Warrior," "The African
Chief," " The Indian Girl's Lament."
At the end of 1826, Mr. Bryant first
became connected with the "Evening
Post" as a Contributor. The following
year he was made one of the proprie
tors, and fairly entered on that career
of journalism which, Avith the exception
of an occasional vacation, he has never
since intermitted. The "Evening Post,"
with which he thus became associated,
is one of the oldest and most influential
newspapers in the city of NeAV York,
being founded by the eminent Fede
ralist, William Coleman, in 1801. On
his death, which occurred some tAVO or
three years after Mr. Bryant's introduc
tion- to its columns, William Leggett
Avas employed as assistant editor. His
labors on it ceased in 1836, when it
was, for a number of years, conducted
solely by Mr. Bryant, assisted a portion
of the time by his son-in-law, Mr. Parke
Godwin, till Mr. John Bigelow became
a fellow:proprietor in 1850, so that it
is seen to have been under the guid
ance of men of distinguished ability
from the start
About the time of his introduction
to the " Evening Post," Mr. Bryant en
gaged with, his friends Sands, already
mentioned, and Mr. Gulian C. Ver
planck in the composition of an annual
entitled "The Talisman," which Avas
published for three years by a very
worthy bookseller of New York, a gen
tleman of taste and refinement, Mr

468

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

Elam Bliss. For this Mr. Bryant wrote
poems, sketches, and several stories.
He also contributed two prose narra
tives, " The Skeleton's Cave," and "Med-
field," to the "Tales of the Glauber Spa,"
published by the Harpers, two years
after the conclusion of the " Talisman,"
in 1832.
His remaining literary works consist of
various poems written from time to time,
and collected at different periods in se
veral editions, two volumes of travelling
letters, the fruits of journeys at inter
vals, from 1834 to 1858, in the Southern
States of the Union, the island of Cuba,
and in various parts of Europe — Scot
land, England, Holland, France, Swit
zerland, and Spain ; and three Eulogies,
delivered in memory of the artist
Thomas Cole, the novelist Fenimore
Cooper, and Washington Irving. The
last was delivered at an anniversary
commemoration, April 3d, 1860.
AU these productions, whether in
prose or verse, whether an editorial in
his newspaper or a staid academical
discourse, are distinguished by the
same unvarying purity of expression
and faithful adjustment of the words to
the subj ect. In this respect, Mr. Bryant
stands distinguished among the authors
of the day, in thorough mental disci
pline, strength of perception and truth
fulness in all that he utters. His verse
never oversteps the modesty of nature.
Whether it paints a bird, a flower, a
prairie, or an ocean, it is fidelity itself.
There is, perhaps, less surplusage in his
writings than in those of any author
who has written so much. Of his pub
lished compositions in verse, since his
manhood, Ave know of nothing which

could be spared from his collected
Avorks. This is a ATery rare merit, and
argues not merely self-knowledge, for
that a man may have and fall Very far
short of perfection, but a concentrated
power of mind which is proof of a
very high order of genius. Whenever
a poem appears from his pen it is sure
to possess some peculiar merit — some
grace of nature, heightened by art, yet
with no taint of affectation ; something
plain, yet refined, like the beauty of
the Roman poet's mistress, simplex
munditiis. The topics of the poems are of per
manent interest, the great emotions of
life, its joys, oftener its sorrows, and
not seldom its visions of death ; the
four seasons of the year, with their
varieties of association, the voices of
birds and rills, and sweet faces of the
flowers; the elements of nature — the
heavens, with the winds and tides ; the
struggles of man for freedom and hap
piness; the love of country, the love
of all. They are sentimental, yet the
sentiment is so blended with truth and
reason, and the outward types of na
ture, that it never becomes sentimen
tality. They are sometimes personal,
yet the personality is so veiled and
associated with universal objects and
emotions, that it may be as true to
your experience as to the Avriter's.
There is one poem in particular of the
latter character Avhich reveals a world
of heartfelt emotion. It is entitled
"The Future Life."

How shall I know thee in the sphere whioh kcepa
The disembodied spirits of tlie dead,
When all of thee that time could wither, sleeps
And perishes among the dust we tread ?

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

469

For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain,
If there I meet thy gentle presence not ;
N >r hear the voice I love, nor read again
In thy serencst eyes the tender thought.
Will not thy own meek heart demand me there ?
That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given ?
My name on earth was ever in thy prayer,
Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven ?
Tn meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind,
In the resplendence of that glorious sphere,
And larger movements of the unfettered mind,
Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here?
The love that lived through all the stormy past,
And meekly with my harsher nature bore,
AM deeper grew, and tenderer to the last,
Shall it empire with life, and be no more ?
A happier lot than mine, and larger light,
Await thee there ; for thou hast bowed thy will
[n cheerful homage to the rule of right,
And lovest all, and renderest good for ill.
For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell,
Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll ;
And wrath has left its scar — that Are of hell
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul.
Yet though thov. wear'st the glory of the sky,
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name,
The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle' eye,
¦ Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same ?
Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home,
The wisdom that I learned so ill in this —
The wisdom which is love — till I become
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss ?
The part borne by Mr. Bryant in
political life is well known. Long at
tached to the Democratic party, a sup
porter of its great measures in free
trade and finance as they were illus
trated by such leaders as Andrew Jack
son, Silas Wright, and others, he took
the initiative in the formation of the
new Republican party, which he has
6een groAv to strength by his advocacy,
ii.— 59

as much as that of any man, and Avhich
noAV, in its maturity, recognizes him as
its honored guide.
Mr. Bryant's residence, for the greatei
part of the year, is in the country, at
Roslyn, Long Island, on the Sound, a
few hours' distant from the city. His
house is a plain, rural dAvelling of the
better class, built by a Quaker settler,
toward the close of the last century,
with an eye to substantial comfort. It
stands — we quote from the description
in the " Homes 'of American Authors,"
* at the foot of a Avoody hill, which shel
ters it on the east, facing Hempstead
harbor, to which the flood tide gives
the appearance of a lake, bordered to
its ATery edge with trees, through which,
at intervals, are seen farm-houses and
cottages, and all that brings to mind
that beautiful image, ' a smiling land.'
The position is well chosen, and it is
enhanced in beauty by a small, arti
ficial pond, collected from the springs
with which the hill abounds, and lying
between the house and the edge of the
harbor, from which it is divided by an
irregular embankment, affording room
for a plantation of shade-trees and fine
shrubbery." Roslyn, the name of the
village, was suggested by Mr. Bryant,
from an incident recorded in the town
annals, that the British troops marched
out of Hempstead to the tune of Ros
lyn Castle.
In person, Mr. Bryant is tall and
rather slender, but vigorous and capa
ble of endurance. In early life he had,
we have heard, a tendency to ill health,
which has been overcome by care and
exercise. He is an early riser, a stout
pedestrian, and spite of his editorial

470

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

labors, lives much in the open air. He
is fond of rural pursuits, and is fre
quently called upon to address horti
cultural and other agricultural socie
ties. He has also a sincere fondness
for art, and may be seen at the annual
openings of the exhibitions of the Aca
demy of Design, in New York, one of
the most honored and delighted guests.

He Avas one. of the Presidents of the
American Art Union. In fine, there
is no literary or artistical excellence
which has sprung up in the city in his
time, which has not benefited by his
genial presence, as there are no great
questions which have agitated the
countiy, in which he has not taken an
influential part.

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

The most marked individual among
the Southern Generals, perhaps among
the many officers engaged on either
side during the late civil conflict, was,
doubtless, General Thomas Jonathan
Jackson, familiarly known by his desig
nation, distinguishing him from nume
rous others in history of his name,
Stonewall Jackson. He was born of
a respectable family of English and
more remote Scotch Irish ancestry,
at Clarksburg, Western Virginia, . the
youngest of a family of four children,
January 21st, 1824. His great grand
father, who emigrated from London in
1748, and his grandfather, both bore
their part on the American side in the
War of the Revolution ; and the family,
on the adoption of the Constitution,
was: represented in Congress by two
of its members. His father, Jonathan
Jackson, who had practised law with
success, was overtaken by misfortune
in his latter years, and at his death, in
1827, left his family in want. His
Avidow, a lady of cultivation and of
unaffected piety, married again in 1830
and died the following year. Her
orphan child, the subject of this notice,
Avas thus left to the care of his father's.
relatives for maintenance and support.
The boy thus early in life displayed
some strength of will, for" he ran away
ii.— 60

from the first of these protectors whom
he disliked, and was received and en
tertained by an uncle, Cummins Jack
son, on a farm at Weston, where he
remained during his boyhood, assisting
in the rural work and picking up the
rudiments of education at a country
school. He was at this youthful period- a lad
of spirit, and had the hardihood at the
age of nine, in company with an elder
brother, to undertake an erratic fortune-i
seeking journey on the Ohio, from
which, after encountering various hard
ships of toil as a woodcutter on an
island of the Mississippi and enfeebled
by the ague of the spot, he was enabled
to return to Virginia by the charity of
a steamboat captain. At home he was
known to the country round as a suc
cessful rider of his uncle's horses in the
race-course, for which that relative had
a true Virginian's affection. It is
characteristic at once of young Jack
son's incipient manliness and of the
primitive habits of the region in which
he dwelt, that at about the age of
sixteen he was elected Constable by
the Justices of ¦ the County Court of
Sessions in which, he resided. The
duties of this office in traversing
a considerable extent of country,
serA'ing process, collecting debts and

472

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

making arrests, were calculated to
develop a native hardihood of dis
position; and the young incumbent
appears to have secured the esteem
and confidence of the members of
the court and others interested in
his proceedings. The position, how
ever, was not sufficiently satisfactory
or important to stand in his way
when, a vacancy having occurred in
the representation of the Congres
sional district at West Point, it was
suggested that young Jackson should
apply for the position. His uncle
favored the notion, and the youth
further succeeded in impressing an
influential friend on the spot, if not
with his present qualifications, at least
with his own conviction, of the possi
bility of success in the future ; and with
a letter from his benefactor, Colonel
Bennett, to the member of Congress
for the District, made his way to
Washington, where he succeeded in
obtaining the coveted appointment.
His position at West Point was at first
embarrassed in consequence of his im
perfect preparation, but this was an
impediment which, like many others of
vigorous natural powers who have
entered this institution uninformed, he
rapidly overcame by diligence and ap
plication. His mind was rather a
stubborn, reluctant soil to cultivate,
but it held and retained strongly what
was with much labor firmly planted in
it. This disposition, though slow at the
outset and far from brilliant in its
early exhibitions, is probably the most
favorable in the end for the serene and
abstruse studies imposed at the na
tional military academy. Jackson is

described at this time as an awkward
youth, and in his ways averse from
amusements, unsociable, self-absorbed,
and consequently of no little simplicity
as to common every day affairs. He
was even, it is said, something of a
hypochondriac, suffering indeed from
derangement of the stomach, and fancy
ing, not without probability, an heredi
tary taint of consumption, which he
guarded against by sitting according
to some remedial theory, " bolt upright
at his meals." One of his notions at
this or some subsequent time, " was to
believe that everything he eat went
down and lodged in his left leg? Again,
he would never eat except by the
watch,, at the precise moment ; and he
would take out his watch, lay it on the
table, and eat at that moment. If the
meal was behindhand he would not eat
at all. Illustrative of the difficulty he
had in learning anything, General Sey
mour, his classmate at West Point, re
lated an anecdote :¦ — " Seymour was at
that time learning to play on the flute,
and Jackson took it into his head that
he also would learn. He went to the
work with his accustomed visror and
perseverance, but he could not succeed
in learning to play even the simplest
air. He blew six months on the first
bar of 'Love Not,' and then gave it
up in despair."*
^ With these mingiled incentives and
disabilities of an eccentric nature,
working resolutely in its distorted
fashion, Jackson ploughed his way
heavily through his studies, and at
the end of his first year stood in
general merit fifty-one in a class of

W. Swinton. Reminiscences of Stonewall Jackson
New York 2'jmss, May 22, 1863.

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

473

seventy ; another year brought him up
to thirty ; a third to twenty, and the
end of the fourth to seventeen. With
this standing, in the same class with
Generals McClellan, Foster, Reno,
Stoneman, A. P. Hill, and other offi
cers of renown in the conflict in which
he was destined to bear so prominent
a part, Jackson graduated with the ap
pointment of brevet second lieutenant
of artillery, July 1, 1846. It was the
period of the war with Mexico, when
the newly created young officers of the
small OArertaxed national army were in
request, and heartily responded to the
call for active service on a scale of ad
venture and importance unprecedented
in the experience of the generation then
on the stage. The war had many
attractions ; the whole countiy was
kindled with the novelty and magni
tude of the operations ; one battle
followed another, promotion Avas rapid,
and honor was attained on every field.
Jackson was attached to the 1st Regi
ment of Artillery, and was first brought
into active service in the spring of
1847, in the column of General Scott at
the siege of Vera Cruz. When the
army advanced after the battle of Cerro
Gordo he was transferred, at his own
request, to Captain Magruder's light
field battery, a position which brought
with it a certainty of adventurous duty.
In the action which followed at Churu-
busco he proved his courage on the
field, and gained the warm commenda
tions of his superiors. " When my fire
was opened," wrote Magruder in his
report, " in a few moments Lieutenant
Jackson, commanding the second sec
tion of the battery, who had opened
fire upon the. enemy's works from a po

sition on the right, hearing me fire stili
further in front, advanced in handsome
style, and being assigned by me to the
post so gallantly filled by Lieutenant
Johnstone [who had been killed in the
first encounter], kept up the fire with
great briskness and effect. His con
duct was equally conspicuous during
the whole day."
At the subsequent arduous assault
at Chapultepec his bravery was still
more conspicuous. In the dispositions
of the day he occupied an advance
post, where his section of the battery
encountered fearful odds of the enemy,
and was at one moment ordered to re
tire, but he insisted on holding his
ground till he Was reinforced, and
drove the enemy from his position.
When his men were sheltering them
selves from the heavy fire pouring upon
them, it is said that Jackson, to incite
their courage, adA'anced to the open
ground in front swept by shot and
shell, " Come on," says he, " this is
nothing. You see they can't hurt
me."* More than one of the reports
of the day records his gallantry. Says
General Worth, who bore a conspicu
ous part in .the action, " although he
lost most of his horses and many of his
men, Lieutenant Jackson continued
chivalrously at his post, combating
with noble courage." The young
lieutenant was heartily recommended
for promotion, and immediately re
ceived the brevet rank of Major. He
now entered Mexico with the victorious
army, passed several months there of
quiet duty, employing his comparative
leisure in the acquisition of the Spanish
tongue, which he mastered with his
* Cooke's Life of Stonewall Jackson, p. 17.

£74

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

usual dogged industry and resolution,
studying the forms of the language in
a grammar, the only one he could find,
written in Latin, which he had never
been taught. It was an important
event in his life at this period, that he
now began firmly to strengthen his re
ligious opinions, oddly for the zealous
Presbyterian of after life, making some
of his first enquiries in theology of
the Roman Catholic Archbishop of
Mexico* In the summer of 1848, Major Jack
son returned to the United States, and
was stationed for two years at a quiet
post of routine duty at Fort Hamilton,
in the harbor of New York. During
this time his religious convictions were
confirmed, and he was baptized by and
received the communion from the hands
of the Rev. Mr. Parks, the Episcopal
chaplain of the garrison. From Fort
Hamilton Jackson was transferred for
a short time to Florida, whence, in the
spring of 1851, he was called to occupy
the position of Professor of Natural
and Experimental Philosophy and Ar
tillery Tactics in the Military Academy
of Virginia. This was an important
institution, well situated in a pictur
esque location at Lexington, in Rock
bridge county, was already Avell es
tablished and had attracted to it a
large body of students. In the , elec
tion for the Professorship the names
of the subsequently distinguished
Generals McClellan, Reno, Rosecrans,
and G. W. Smith, were before the
Board of Visitors for selection. Jack
son gained the preference by the im
pression which his character had made

* Dr. Dabney's Life of Jackson. London Edition, Vol.
L, p. 63-4.

and By his birth as a Virginian. He
resigned his rank in the army, accepted
the new position, immediately entered
upon its duties, and continued to dis
charge them with faithfulness and regu
larity for the ensuing ten years, at the
end of which time the Professor, under
the new order of things at the South,
resumed his fighting career in active
and portentous service.
Of Jackson's career at the Military
Academy his biographers have many
incidents to relate. During this period
he was twice married; in 1853, to the
daughter of the Rev. Dr. Judkin, Presi
dent of the neighboring Washington
College at Lexington, a union which
was terminated by the death of his
wife in little more than a year ; and in
1857, to the daughter of the Rev. Dr.
Morrison, a Presbyterian clergyman of
North Carolina. His character was
now formed in a firm basis of religious
faith and experience, his associations or
convictions having led him to become
a devout member of the Presbyterian
Church, and thenceforth he was known
as a zealous professor, identifying him
self with prayer-meetings, attendance
on service and the usual sympathies
and observances of the denomination.
In this, as in other relations, whatever
he entertained as a duty he acted upon
and carried out with uncompromising
resolution and firmness. Thus, being
strongly convinced of a sacred Old
Testament observance of the Sabbath,
he held it a sin that the United States
mails should be transmitted on that
day; and when it was urged that it
was quite impracticable for an indi
vidual to arrest the proceeding, his
answer, says his biographer, Dr. Dab-

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

475

ney, was, " that unless some Christians
should begin singly to practice their
exact duty, and thus set the proper
example, the reform would never be
begun ; that his responsibility was to
see to it that he, at least, was not parti-
ceps oriminis, and that whether others
would co-operate, was their concern
not his. Hence, not only did he per
sistently refuse to visit the post-office
on the Sabbath Day, to leave or receive
a letter, but he would not post a letter
on Saturday or Friday which, in regu
lar course of transmission, must be
travelling on Sunday, except in cases
of high necessity." We shall find him
in the midst of his subsequent Southern
army occupations, seeking, in a pointed
manner, to enforce this opinion.
It was a maxim of Jackson, adopted
early in life, and left recorded in a pri
vate note-book which he had written
at West Point, that, "You may be
whatever you resolve to be." It was
an old apopthegm which the student
might have learnt from his Virgil
where the poet points the moral of the
struggle for mastery in the exciting
contest of the rowers — possunt quia
posse videntur —
" For they can conquer who believe they can."
But the young soldier learnt it not
from books, but from the rugged ex
perience of his own nature, in his hard
attained success in overcoming the
difficulties, inward and outward, by
which he was invested. We value
proportionably what we accomplish
with effort, and once acquired, the les
son never failed the aspirant. What
is easy to a man he is apt to overlook,
and sometimes despise. Dry reluctant

minds on the other hand, to Avhom
struggle is a necessity, tax their facul
ties for the race, and rigidly adhering
to their object, outstrip the better en
dowed but negligent. Jackson be
longed to the class vowed to determi
nation. If he once thought he ought
to do a thing, he would not spare him
self in accomplishing it. Thus, having
made up his mind that it was a de
sirable acquisition to be able to speak
fluently in public, probably in conse
quence of his consciousness of his utter
inability to do so, he joined a debating
society at Lexington; and though he
begun with failure after failure, and
was compelled time and again to sit
down, after a few awkward ineffectual
utterances, he .yet rose again and per
severed till, with confidence and in
creasing skill, he finally attained suc
cess. Equally firm was his resolu
tion — in which thousands of invalids
with the strongest possible motives
fail — for the cure of the malady, the
painful disorder of the stomach, which
long clung to him, and which he over
came by a rigid system of temperance
worthy of Cornaro. He not only re
fused to partake of stimulating liquors
and tobacco, but avoided the use of
tea and coffee. Self denial, the first
element of the soldier, was habitual to
him. In careless times of peace the con
straint of such a man does not always
prove acceptable, and Ave are not sur
prised to learn that even in a Military
Academy, where a certain degree of
severity may be supposed to be the
order of the day, Jackson was rather
unpopular with the students. It would
appear from the narratives of friends

476

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

who have described his course at Lex
ington, that he was somewhat of a
pedantic turn in his instructions, that
he lacked ease and adaptation to the
wants of students in communicating
knoAvledge; that his lectures in fact
savored more of the inflexible camp
drill than of a Avinning accommodating
philosophy. The pupils, doubtless,
learnt to respect his nature when they
became acquainted with it, but thought
less youth saAV mOre at first sight to
deride than admire. "No idiosyncrasy
of the Professor," we are told by his
accomplished biographer, Mr. John
Esten Cooke, who learnt to know him
well in subsequent military experience
in the Valley of Virginia, "was lost
sight of. His stiff, angular figure ; the
awkward movement of his body; his
absent and 'grim' demeanor; his ex
aggerated and apparently absurd devo
tion to military regularity; his Aveari-
some exactions of a similar obsen^ance
on their part — that general oddity, ec
centricity, and singularity in moving,
talking, thinking, and acting peculiar
to himself — all these were described On
a thousand occasions, and furnished
unfailing food for laughter. They
called him ' Old Tom Jackson,' and
pointing significantly to their foreheads,
said he Avas 'not quite right there J
Some inclined to the belief that he was
only a great eccentric; but others de
clared him 'crazy.' Those who had
experienced the full weight of his Pro
fessional baton — who had been repri
manded before the class, or 'reported'
to the superintendent for punishment
or dismissal — called him ' Fool Tom
Jackson.' These details are not very
heroic, and detract considerably from

that dignified outline which eulogistic
writers upon Jackson have drawn.
But they are true. Nothing is better
established than the fact, that the man
to whom General Lee wrote, ' Could I
have directed events, I should have
chosen for the good of the country to
have been disabled in your stead ;' and
of whom the London Times said, ' That
mixture of daring and judgment, which
is the mark of ' Heaven-born' Generals,
distinguished him beyond any man of
his time.' Nothing is more certain,
we say, than that this man was sneered
at as a fool, and on many occasions
stigmatized as insane."
One anecdote of this portion of
Jackson's career deserves to be record
ed. It is related by his biographers,
and is probable enough in its incidents,
in the murderous intent of the student
— for a student has been known to
shoot a Professor, if we remembei
rightly, in the University of Virginia
— and the indifferent, courageous "bear
ing with which the meditated assault
was met. One of the cadets had been
tried under charges preferred by Jack
son, and dismissed from the Academy.
He A-owed revenge, declared that he
would take, the life of the Professor,
and arming himself awaited the com
ing of his victim at a point on the
road by which he must pass on his
way to the Institution. The Professor
was warned but refused to turn from
his course, simply remarking, " Let the
assassin murder me if he will," and
keeping on, calmly and sternly con
fronted the young man, who, rebuked
by his steady gaze, quailed, and re
tired in silence from the spot. This
was an exercise of true self-reliance and

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

477

courage, and displayed a spirit always
admired, in its exercise in great com
manders and others who have been
suddenly called to suppress a dangerous
mutiny. These years of Professional life were
varied by a brief visit to Europe, un
dertaken for the benefit of health, in
the summer of 1856. The tour, which
lasted four months, extended from Eng
land, through Belgium and France to
Switzerland. On his return he found
the free soil agitation in progress, and
even at that early day, " to the few
friends to whom he spoke of his own
opinions, declared that the South
ought to take its stand upon the outer
verge of its just rights, and there re
sist aggression, if necessary, by the
SAVord."* In his political opinions,, an
ultra State-Rights Democrat, he re
sented any political action Avhich
might in his view lead to interference
with the institution of slavery in the
South. Three years after this time he
was summoned with his cadets and
light battery to protect the Court at
Charleston in its arraignment of memor
able John Brown, about to be tried
and condemned for his insane attempt
to create a servile insurrection, and
revolutionize Virginia. While there
he witnessed the execution of the
courageous and desperate fanatic, who
displayed a strength of will and patient
fortitude which Jackson, if not thor
oughly blinded by the feelings of the
hour, must at heart have admired. For
there were points in common between
John Brown and the "Stonewall."
There was at least something of the
uncompromising hostility of the former

*Dabney's Life of Jackson. Vol I, p. 167.

in Major Jackson, when on entering
upon the Confederate service at Har
pers' Ferry, at the beginning of the
war, he deliberately declared that " it
was the. true policy of the South to
take no prisoners in this war. He
affirmed that this would be in the end
the truest humanity, because it would
shorten the contest, and prove economi
cal of the blood of both parties ; and
that it was a measure urgently dic
tated by the interests of the Southern
cause, and clearly sustained by justice."*
" Stonewall" Jackson looking on at
the death of John Brown is a subject
for a painter's pencil and a moralist's
meditations. We have now to contemplate Major
Jackson — for he speedily resumed the
title under new auspices— on the theatre
of the war which he invoked. When
the conflict was fairly commenced by
the attack on Sumter, and the conse
quent call by President Lincoln for a
Northern army, Jackson Avas one of the
foremost of the Southern officers to
take the field. On the 21st of April,
1861, four days after Virginia, by her
passage of an act of secession had
joined the Confederates, he left Lex
ington in command of the corps of
cadets of his military school for the
camp at Richmond. There he was
appointed by the State authorities
Colonel of Volunteers, and immediately
ordered to the command of the forces
gathering at Harpers' Ferry, which
had just been evacuated by the few
United States troops stationed at the
public works. There he entered upon
the preliminary task of drilling and
organizing the new levies until his
* Dabney's Life of Jackson, Vol. I., p. 224.

478

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

superior officer, General Joseph E.
Johnston, appeared on the field, when
he was assigned to the command of
four regiments of Virginian infantry,
known as the First .Brigade of what
was then called the " Army of the
Shenandoah." A month was now
passed in bringing troops into the
field and making those military dis:
positions on either side, which deter
mined for a long period the nature and
ground of the struggle already com
menced. The Confederates concen
trated their forces in the Valley of Vir
ginia, and at Manassas, in front of
Washington. Leaving Harper's Ferry
as an untenable position, Johnston re
tired upon Winchester, whence by rail-
Avay and the passes of the intervening
mountain he could readily support
Beauregard at Manassas, where the
main body of Confederate troops was
assembled. When the Northern force,
under Patterson, crossed the Potomac
at Williamsport at the beginning of
July, Jackson, Avho had been on duty
in this quarter at Martinsburg destroy
ing the stock of the Baltimore and
Ohio Railroad, resisted the advance of
the Pennsylvania General, meeting his
troops in a spirited encounter at Fall
ing Waters. Compelled to fall back
before superior numbers he invoked
aid from Johnston to attack the North
ern army; but no action was fought,
and the whole Virginia force in this
region was concentrated at Winchester,
where Jackson now received his com
mission of brigadier-general.
The middle of the month brought
the battle of Manassas, as it was called
at the South — the memorable Bull
Run of the Northern journalists and

historians. In this engagement Jack
son was destined to bear a prominent
part. The battle, it will be remem
bered, began with an attack, on the
18th of July, upon the Confederate
lines at Bull Run, at Mitchell's and
Blackburn's Fords, followed by the
important Federal flanking movement
of the 21st. Immediately on the first
of these assaults, Johnston was sum
moned with his forces to the relief
of Beauregard. Leaving Winchester,
he at once set his troops in motion,
Jackson with his brigade, now com
posed of Ave Virginia regiments about
twenty-six hundred strong, being
among the foremost, on the 20th, to
reach the Confederate lines, where he
was posted in support of Longstreet's
brigade at Blackburn's Ford. The
battle of the 21st opened with an at
tack on the Confederate position at
Stone Bridge, followed by the passage
of the main portion of the Federal army
of the stream in its rear, at Sudley's
Ford, distant some eight miles from
the spot where Jackson's brigade was
stationed. It was not, therefore, till
the great engagement of the day in the
vicinity of the Henry House was well
advanced that Jackson was brought
into action. He came up at a critical
moment, Avhen General Bee, over
powered by the Federal troops, was
driven back after a gallant fight, his
forces broken and shattered. Jackson
with his fresh troops, and others which
opportunely arrived turned the fortunes
of the day. Boldly confronting the
still advancing Federal forces, they
made a fresh assault, pierced the cen
tre of the Union line, and finally drove
their antagonists from the bloody field.

,7
THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

479

Jackson, who was a man by no
means given to boasting, always as
serted in behalf of his brigade the dis
tinguished part we have described in
the. military efforts of the day. Of his
signal energy on the field, his display
of all the warlike enthusiasm of his
nature there was no question. When
on first coming up to the scene of ac
tion he was met by General Bee with
the Avord, " They are beating us back,"
he simply replied with his customary
brevity and coolness, "Then we will
give them the bayonet." His firmness
gained the admiration of Bee, who ex
claimed to his men, " There is Jackson
standing like a stone wall." They
wen3 soon both involved in the fury
and carnage of the battle, and Bee fell
mortally Avounded, leaving this word
of eulogy, sublimated in the heat of the
fiery conflict, a legacy to his friend and
fellow-soldier. Thenceforth Jackson
Avas known as the Stonewall. This
was the origin of the appellation, which
never deserted him. Jackson was
struck on the hand in the action by a
fragment of shell, but made light of
the disaster, refusing the attentions of
the surgeons till those more severely
wounded were cared for.
Two personal records of this engage
ment remain from his pen. One is a
letter to Colonel J. M. Bennett, narrat
ing the military movements of his
brigade during the action, concluding
with the declaration, "You will find
when my report shall be published,
that the First Brigade was to our army
what the Imperial Guard was to the
First Napoleon; that, through the
blessing of God, it met the thus far
victorious enemy and turned the for-
ii.— 61

tunes of the day." To his wife he
wrote the day after the engagement,
" Yesterday we fought a great battle,
and gained a great victory, for which
all the glory is due to God alone.
Though under a heavy fire for several
continuous hours, I only received one
wound, the breaking of the largest
finger on the left hand, but the doctor
says the finger can be saved. My horse
was wounded, but not killed. My
coat got an ugly wound near the hip.
My preservation was entirely due, as
was the glorious victory, to our God,
to whom be all the glory, honor, and
praise. Whilst great credit is due to
other parts of our gallant army, God
made my brigade more instrumental
than any other in repulsing the main
attack. This is for your own informa
tion only — say nothing about it. Let
another speak praise, not myself."*
Nor was the eulogy withheld. " The
conduct of General Jackson," says Gen
eral Beauregard in his official report of
the Battle of Manassas, " requires men
tion, as eminently that of an able and
fearless soldier and sagacious com
mander, one fit to lead his .brigade;
his efficient, prompt, timely arrival
before the plateau of the Henry House,
and his judicious disposition of his
troops, contributed much to the suc
cess of the day. Although painfully
wounded in the hand, he remained on
the field to the end of the battle, rend
ering invaluable assistance."!
It was Jackson's opinion after the
battle of Bull Run that the Confederate
army should be immediately pushed
upon Washington, for he was always

* Dabney's Life of Jackson, VoL 7 p. 265-6.
f Report, August 26, 1861.

480

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

the advocate of energetic forward
movements ; but he was compelled for
a time, with the rest of the troops,
to inaction before Washington, while
McClellan organized the various forces
which were to afford him sufficient em
ployment in the future. He thus
passed the remainder of the summer in
camp in the vicinity of Manassas. In
October he was promoted Major-Gen
eral in the Provisional Army, and
shortly after was assigned to the com
mand of the " Valley District," with
his headquarters at Winchester. This
necessitated temporary separation from
his brigade, which he took leave of in
an animated address, closing with the
encomium and appeal — " In the Army
of the Shenandoah you were the First
Brigade ; in the Army of the Potomac
you were the First Brigade; in the
Second Corps of the army you are
the First Brigade; you are the First
Brigade in the affections of your Gen
eral ; and I hope, by your future deeds
and bearing, you will be handed down
to posterity as the First Brigade in this
our second War of Independence.
Farewell." It was a favorite plan of Jackson, at
this period of the war, to enter the
north-western part of Virginia, rally
the inhabitants favorable to the South
ern cause, and holding the line of the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad from
Cumberland to Harper's Ferry, thus
protect the rich upper and lower valleys
from the invasions with which they
were constantly threatened. The au
thorities at Richmond, however, failed
to support him in this scheme ; but he
employed all the means at his com
mand to interrupt the communications

of the Union forces, and drive such
portions of them as had already gained
a foothold from the Valley. On first
occupying Winchester he had but a
small body of troops with him, but
this was not long after increased by
the return to his command of his old
brigade, and the arrival of the Vir
ginian and Southern regiments, giving
him, in December, about eleven thous-
and men. Late as was the season, he
resolved with these to commence active
operations. His first work was, under
the circumstances of considerable dif
ficulty, to destroy an important lock
of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal
aboA-e Martinsburg. This was speedily
followed by an undertaking of greater
magnitude, and, as it proved, of almost
unprecedented hardship. With about
8,500 men, five batteries of artillery,
and a few companies of cavalry, he set
out from Winchester to clear Morgan
and Hampshire counties of the Federal
troops established at Bath, Hancock
and Romney. The force, which in
numbers was amply sufficient for the
purpose, set out on the 1st of January,
1862, a remarkably fine day of an open
season, so mild that the soldiers left
their overcoats and blankets to be
brought after them in wagons. That
night the weather changed, a severe
northern blast bringing with it all the
terrors of winter in an inclement moun
tainous region. A storm of sleet and
snow set in, the rough unused roads,
which the troops traversed en a secret
forced march, were coated with ice;
the wagons were slow in coming up,
and for several nights the men, without'
coats or blankets, bivouacked in the
wet, with no other resource but the

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

481

camp fires. The suffering was exces
sive, numbers left the ranks and made
their way to Winchester, officers mur
mured, but Jackson with his usual de
termination kept on, and the third day
reached Bath, a distance of forty miles,
where he expected to surprise and cap
ture the Union garrison, but they had
warning of his approach and escaped
across the Potomac at Hancock, whither
he pursued them. He planted a bat
tery opposite the town and summoned
it to surrender, and the commander re
fusing, bombarded it vigorously.. After
destroying a railroad bridge in the
vicinity, and otherwise interrupting
the communications of General Banks'
army on the Potomac, Jackson marched
with his forces on Romney which, from
the difficulties of the way, he did not
reach till the 14th, when he found that
General Kelley had escaped with the
garrison. He had accomplished his
object, however, in clearing the region
for the time of the Union forces, and
directing the supplies of the country to
his own purposes ; and having done
this with an energy and with an en
durance on the part of his troops
worthy an important campaign, he re
turned to Winchester. He had proved
his determination and inflexibility to
the verge of rashness; and his men
had fully learnt what he expected from
them, and what he was ready to per
form himself, for he shrank from no
hardship of the camp.
Jackson had left one of his officers,
General Loring, with a garrison at
Romney, which he was presently moved
by the Confederate Secretary of War
to recall. Regarding this as an un
handsome interference with his com

mand, Jackson sent his resignation to
Richmond; it was not acted upon,
however, was tacitly admitted as a pro
test, and, besieged by remonstrances,
the "Stonewall," who could not well
be spared, continued in command in the
Valley. Washington's birth-day in February
brought a general movement of the
Northern forces. General Banks, in
command of a distinct army corps,
crossed the Potomac at Harper's Ferry
on the 26th, immediately occupied
Charlestown and Smithfield, and ad
vanced upon Winchester, where Jack
son, though beset by vastly superior
forces, was, as usual, disposed to show
fight. He was ordered, however, to
retreat, and evacuated Winchester as
Banks came up and occupied the town
on the 12th of March. General Shields
with his brigade was placed in com
mand there, and Jackson, pursued
along his route, retired up the Valley
to Mount Jackson, about forty-five
miles distant, where he was in com
munication with the Confederate troops
at Luray, and Washington to the
East. It was General Shields' design
to draw him from this position and
supporting force. Consequently, as he
tells us in his report of the action which
ensued, he fell back from the pursuit
to Winchester, on the 20th, "giving
the movement all the appearance of a
retreat" General Banks meanwhile
was leaving with a considerable por
tion of his army for the Eastward,
and Jackson, induced by these circum
stances, resolved to return and attack
the diminished force at Winchester.
General Shields did not underrate his
enemy, and made vigilant preparations

482

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

for his reception on the southern ap
proaches to the town. Jackson ad
vanced with his accustomed impetu
osity. His first day's forced march,
oh the 22d, was, a distance of twenty-
six miles, to Strasburg ; the next day
he came up about noon on the main
road to the vicinity of the village of
KernstoAvn, about three and a half
miles from Winchester. Shields had
already his forces in position on a
neighboring height, which became the
scene of the conflict. Jackson com
menced the attack with resolution and
with partial success, when fresh Union
troops were advanced and charged
upon the Confederates, who, after an
obstinate struggle, were compelled to
retreat, leaving their killed and wound
ed on the field. Jackson had under
rated the numbers, if not the Aralor, of
his opponents, and suffered defeat. He
would, however, have renewed the con
flict if the reinforcements which he had
summoned to his aid from Luray and
elsewhere had not been prevented by a
rise in the Shenandoah from joining
him* As it was, Shields continued the
pursuit to Woodstock, whence Jack
son retired to his former quarters
at Mount Jackson. Early in April
Jackson was followed np by General
Banks, who had again taken the field,
and having advanced to Harrisonburgh
on the 22d, wrote to Washington that
Jackson "had abandoned the valley
of Virginia permanently." This, how
ever, never was a calculation in Jack
son's thoughts, as General Banks pre
sently found. Meanwhile, on the first

* Report of General Shields to General Banks, March
89, 1862

week of May, we find Jackson moving
to the, west, and driving back General
Milroy, who, in cooperation with Banks,
was moving from that direction towards
Staunton. A large part of General
Banks' command was now withdrawn
for the reinforcement of the army in
Eastern Virginia, and Jackson, with
the intent of directing the loudly
called for reinforcements from McClel
lan now before Richmond, again as
sumed the aggressive in the Valley.
Fremont was threatening him from the
West, across the mountains ; Banks was
in his front, and McDowell was dis
patching General Shields against him
from Fredericksburg on the East. At
Newmarket, on the 20th May, Jack
son was joined by Ewell; Banks was
on the direct valley road, about forty
miles in his front, at Strasburg. In
stead of advancing in this direction,
Jackson, with good generalship, turned
in a flank movement to the right into
the Luray Valley, and struck, with a
force of about 20,000 men, directly by
a forced march for Front Royal, on the
Manassas railway, the next prominent
station, twelve miles to the East, of
Strasburg. There the brave garrison
under Colonel Kenley was, on the 23d,
overpowered and driven from the place
by his superior numbers. Banks, on
hearing of the disaster and the force of
the enemy, saw at once the danger in
which Winchester was placed, and
commenced his retreat to that point.
There was a sharp race for the prize
Banks encountered the advance of the
enemy on the way at Middletown,
at Newtown, and up to Winchester,
where there Avas a spirited contest, by
which the pursuers were checked for

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

48b

five hours, when the harassed Union
forces pushed on to Martinsburgh and
thence to the Potomac, a march of fifty-
three miles, thirty-five of which were
performed in one day, the army arriving
at the river in forty-eight hours after
the first news of the attack on Front
Royal. Such was the pursuit of Stone
wall Jackson in the valley of Virginia
in May, 1862. A general order from
his headquarters at Winchester, on the
28th, marks his exultation in the event.
"Within four weeks," he declared,
"this army has made long and rapid
marches, fought six combats and ten
battles, signally defeating the enemy in
each one, capturing several stands of
colors and pieces of artillery, with
numerous prisoners, and vast medical
and army stores, and finally driven the
boastful host which was ravishing our
beautifully country into utter rout."
Nor did he forget to add an expression
of his habitual religious confidence in
the support of his cause from above.
" Our chief duty," he said, " to-day, is
to recognize devoutly the hand of a
protecting Providence ;" and, in pur
suance of his convictions according to a
custom which he frequently observed,
he ordered divine service in the camp
in the afternoon.
Though, successful in this undertak
ing, the threatened concentration of
forces in his rear permitted no long in
terval of repose to his jaded troops.
Within a few days after this act of
thanksgiving Jackson was again in the
saddle, retiring with his command to
Winchester which he immediately left,
hastening onward to Strasburgh, where
he was in danger of being cut off by
the junction of Shields and Fremont.

The advance of the former had already
retaken Front Royal, and Fi'emont was
near at hand on the West, forcing a
passage of the mountain from Wardens-
ville in Hardy County. Encumbered
with the spoils of Winchester and the
Union supplies in the lower Valley,
Jackson reached Strasburgh on the
night of the 31st, as Fremont's advance
was coming up. Employing part of
his force in resisting his pursuer, Jack
son' pushed on his retreating column
by the valley road to Newmarket.
There he was in danger of being over
taken by Shields operating on his
flank, the reverse of his own forward
movement by the Luray Valley. Fre
mont too, who had come up, was now
on the direct road closely pressing his
rear, which was ably defended by
Ashby with his cavalry. Near Wood
stock, there was a gallant charge on
Colonel Pattern's brigade of Jackson's
rear guard, in\yhich three of Fremont's
cavalrymen dashed upon the command,
broke through its ranks into the midst
of the array, and two of them fell, the
other escaping. The narration of this
incident by Colonel Patton to Jackson
called forth a characteristic reply. " If
I had been able," said Patton, struck
by this act of extraordinary bravery,
" I would have prevented the trf^ps
from firing upon these three m\ "
Jackson chagrined at the confusion
which had been caused in his ranks by
the' assault, asked, " Why Avould you
not have shot those men, Colonel?"
" I should have spared them, General,"
returned the officer, " because they
were brave men who had gotten into a
desperate situation where it was as
easy to capture them as to kill them."

484

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

Jackson coldly replied, "Shoot them
all, I don't want them to be brave."*
Protected from Fremont by the
valor of Ashby's cavalry, and out
stripping Shields on his flight, Jackson
passed Harrisonburg, still pursued by
the double forces of his enemy. An
encounter above the latter place cost
him the valuable life of his brave cav
alry officer, Ashby, and Jackson him
self, closely pressed, narrowly escaped
death or capture at Port Republic.
Fremont and Shields were near at hand
rapidly converging upon him at this
place. Jackson's troops were on the
north of the toAvn across, the Shenan
doah when the bridge which crossed
the latter was suddenly seized by
Shields' advance. At this moment
Jackson was in the town, separated
from his command, and his enemy had
possession of the bridge. The incident
of his escape is thus related by Mr.
Cooke : — " He rode toward the bridge,
and, rising in his stirrups, called sternly
to the Federal officer commanding the
artillery placed to sweep it. 'Who
ordered you to post that gun there,
sir ?' . ' Bring it over here.' The tone
of these words was so assured and
commanding that the officer did not
imagine they could be uttered by any
other than one of the Federal generals,
and, bowing, he limbered up the piece
and prepared to move. Jackson lost
no time in taking advantage of the
opportunity. He put spurs to his
horse, and, followed by his staff, cross
ed the bridge at full gallop, followed
by three hasty shots from the artillery,
which had been hastily unlimbered and
turned on him. It was too late. The

* Cooke's Life of Jackson, p. 165.

shots flew harmless over the heads of
the general and his staff, and they
reached the Northern bank in safety."
The battle which ensued at Port Re
public, on the 9th of June, when Jack
son turned his forces upon his pursuers,
was one of the best fought and most
sanguinary of the many conflicts in the
Valley. The losses on both sides were
heavy. It ended the pursuit of Jack
son, Avho was now free to carry his
forces to the aid of the beleaguered
army at Richmond.
Summoned by General Lee, Jackson
reached Ashland with his command on
the 25th of June, just in time to par
ticipate in the crowning events of the
campaign, which was about to culmi
nate in the seven days' battles, and re
treat of McClellan to the James River.
In the first of the series of engagements
on the north of the Chickahominy, at
Cold Harbor, on the 27th of June,
Jackson bore a prominent part, coming
upon the field at the close, and turning
the fortunes of the day by hi3 bayonet
charge in favor of the Confederates.
The next day saw the army of McClel
lan in full retreat, Jackson following
in the pursuit, and being engaged in
the final action at Malvern Hill, where
his command suffered severely. Im
mediately after, he returned with his
corps to the vicinity of Richmond at
Mechanicsville, whence he was present
ly sent to the protection of Gordons-
ville, now threatened by General Pope.
On the 9th of August he was again in
conflict with General Banks, this time
at Cedar Run, where Jackson again
saved the Confederates from disaster
by a final charge.
General Lee's advance into Maryland

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

485

now followed, attendant upon the with
drawal of McClellan's army from James
River. Jackson was . actively engaged
in the campaign, being entrusted by
General Lee with the flanking move
ment by Thoroughfare Gap upon the
rear of Pope's army at Manassas,
where he was again in action at the
end of August in the second battle
at that place. In the first week Of
September Jackson realized his long
cherished desire of an invasion of Mary
land. He crossed the Potomac in front
of Leesburg, advanced to Frederick
City, and in the decisive movements
which ensued was employed in the
capture of Harper's Eerry, after which
he rejoined the main army and took
part in the Battle of Antietam on the
17th, where his corps, as usual, render
ed distinguished service. He was with
the army in its retreat into Virginia,
and was encamped for a while in Jeffer
son county, in the vicinity of the
Potomac. At the end of October McClellan
again entered Virginia, and was pres
ently succeeded on his southward
march by General Burnside, who took
up a position on the left bank of the
Rappahannock, opposite Fredericks
burg, to the defence of which Jack
son was called from the Valley and
established on the right wing of the
Confederate army. In the action at
Fredericksburg, and the repulse of
Burn side's forces on the 13th of De
cember, he was again prominently en
gaged ; and the year's campaign being
now closed, enjoyed a period of com-
parati ve repose at his headquarters on
the river below the city. Here he em
ployed himself in superintending the

official reports of his battles, insisting
upon simplicity and even brevity of
statement. He was also, as usual, much
engaged in his religious observances,
which he always managed to reconcile
with camp life. A famous Sabbatarian
letter which he addressed to Colonel
Boteler at Richmond was written about
this time, in which he urged the repeal
of the law requiring mails to be carried
on Sunday. " I do not see," he wrote,
" how a nation that arrays itself against
God's holy day can expect to escape
his wrath;" adding curiously, "the
punishment of national sins must be
confined to this world, as there is no
nationality beyond the grave."
One more brief, fatally interrupted,
campaign remained for the devoted
champion of the Southern cause. In
the spring of 1863 the Union forces
before Fredericksburg, now under
General Hooker, were again in motion.
On the 29 th of April that officer having
crossed the Rappahannock established
his headquarters at Chancellorsville, on
the flank of Lee's army. Jackson Avas
promptly ordered up from his position
to the left, at what had now become
the front of the line. Here a flank
movement was projected against Hook
er's right, and it was while engaged in
carrying out this strategy that Jackson,
returning from a personal scrutiny of
his advanced line with his staff, at nine
in the evening of the 2d of May,
1863, the party was mistaken for the
cavalry of the enemy, and he was fired
upon and mortally wounded by his
own men. Nearly all his staff were
killed or wounded by the volleys which
were fired. Jackson was struck by
three balls — in the left arm below the

486

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON.

shoulder joint, severing the artery ; be
low in the same arm near the wrist,
the ball making its way through the
palm of the hand, and in the palm of
his right hand. This was in the im
mediate vicinity, about a hundred
yards of the Union lines, from Avhich,
before the disabled General could be
removed, a deadly fire was poured
upon his escort. Under these terribly
tragic circumstances, the guns of the
renewed conflict sounding in his ears,
he was borne with difficulty from the
field to a hospital five miles distant.
The next day, the great day of the
battle, Sunday, his arm was amputated,
and on the following he was removed
eight miles further, to Guinea's Depot.
His danger was evident to himself as
to others. His wife was sent for, and
came. He was interested in the re
ports of the battle, talked resolutely of
military affairs, and often religiously
declared his wish to be buried in
" Lexington, in the Valley of Virginia ;"
and at the end, in moments of delirium,
his thoughts reverted to the battle

field. " Order A. P. Hill to prepare for
action," "Pass the infantry to the
front," were expressions which escaped
his lips, closing with a few words of
idyllic simplicity, in touching contrast
to the tales of carnage sadly recorded
in these pages. " Let us cross over the
river and rest under the shade of the
trees !"* So closed, on Sunday, May
10, 1863, the life of " Stonewall Jack
son " He had just reached his fortieth
year. His career was certainly a re
markable one, impressed by a striking
personal character. The justice or
policy of the cause for which he died
must be tried by other arguments
than his own impressions. But there
was much in his nature to admire,
and something also to fear; for the
convictions of such a man are to him a
law, which he will fearlessly execute ;
and, so complex are human nature
ana human life, his very virtues may
invigorate and intensify the dangers of
his errors.

* Cooke's Life of Jackson, p. 444

ROBERT EDWARD LEE.

The family tree of Lee strikes its
root deep in the early ancestry of. Vir
ginia. His forefathers are to be traced
far back in colonial times, to the reign
of Charles I., when Richard Lee bring
ing with him a train of followers, set
tled in the region between the Rappa
hannock and Potomac. In the Crom-
wellian era he was Secretary to Gover
nor Berkeley. His descendants for
several generations were men of learn
ing, and influence in the colony ; and
when a new era dawned upon the coun
try, his great grandson, Richard Henry
Lee, was one of the leading spirits of the
time in his advocacy and support of
the national cause of independence.
Henry Lee, the soldier Of the Revolu
tion, the hero of Paulus Hook, Wash
ington's favorite cavalry officer " Light
Horse Harry," who repaid the esteem
of his friend by his funeral eulogy, pro
claiming him before Congress and the
world, "First in war, first in peace, and
first in the hearts of his countrymen " —
waJ3 the cousin of Richard Henry, and
the father of the subject of this no
tice. Robert Edward Lee the fruit of a se
cond marriage of Henry Lee with Anne
daughter of Charles Carter, of Shirley,
was born at the family seat of Strat
His boyhood was pass-.
in— 62

ford, in 1806

ed in Virginia, its most noticeable inci
dent being -the death of his father, in
Georgia, in 1818, while returning from
a visit to the West Indies in search oi
health. At the age of eighteen he en
tered the military academy at West
Point as a cadet, pursued there a dili
gent and unblemished career, and in
1829 graduated the first in his class,
with an appointment in the engineer
corps with the usual brevet rank of
Second Lieutenant. Being a time of
peace, he was for six years employed in
engineering work on the military de
fences of the seaboard. In this pe
riod, in 1832, he was married to Miss
Custis, of Arlington, in Alexandria
County, Virginia, the daughter and.
heiress of George Washington Parke
Custis, the adopted son of General
Washington, and son of his wife by
her first marriage. By this marriage
Lieutenant Lee became possessed of
the estate at Arlington, opposite Wash
ington, and of the equally celebrated
family seat of the Custis family, the
White House, on the banks of the Pa-
munkey, which was consumed in the
Course of Gen. McClellan's military
Operations before Richmond. In 1836,
Lee was promoted First Lieutenant, and
in 1838, Captain. Continuing in the
engineering corps, he was called into
(487)

488

ROBERT EDWARD LEE.

active service in the Mexican war;
at first under General Wool and sub
sequently with General Scott, with
Avhom he conducted the arduous cam
paign from Vera Cruz to the capital.
Scott constantly in his official reports
celebrates the activity and usefulness of
Capt. Lee, upon whose judgment and
skill he greatly relied in all his military
movements. Lee was constantly em
ployed in reconnoissances, and tracing
out paths for the progress of the vic
torious army. In his record of the ac
tion at Cerro Gordo, Scott writes: "I
am compelled to make special mention
of Capt. R. E. Lee, engineer. This of
ficer greatly distinguished himself at
the siege of Vera Cruz ; was again in
defatigable during these operations in
reconnoissances ; as daring as laborious,
and of the utmost A'alue. Nor was he
less conspicuous in planning batteries,
and in conducting columns to their sta
tions under the heavy fire of the ene
my." He was similarly employed with
equal honor in the subsequent actions ;
in the words of Scott " as distinguished
for felicitous execution as for science and
daring." In the closing action at Cha-
pultepec, Lee was wounded and com
pelled from loss of blood to retire from
the field. After the war, Lee, Avho had
by successive promotions become Col
onel, was in 1852, and for two subse
quent years,"Superintendent of the Mil
itary Academy at West Point. In 1855
he was employed as Lieut.-Colonel of a
cavalry regiment in Texas, and in 1859
was brought prominently into notice
by his command of the regular troops
sent from Washington to suppress the
insurrection of the famous John Brown,
at Harper's Ferry "When he arrived

on the spot, Brown, at bay, was shut
up with the prisoners he had taken in
one of the buildings on the armory
grounds ; Lee's dispositions were skill
fully made ; the prisoners Avere released
and Brown captured.
At the outbreak of the Southern war
Col. Lee was with his regiment in Tex
as. Returning to Virginia he sent in
his resignation in April, 1861, immedi
ately after the fall of Sumter. In a
letter to Lieutenant-General Scott, dated
Arlington on the 20th, he wrote stating
that he would have resigned before
" but for the struggle it has cost me to
separate myself from a service to which
I have devoted all the best }7ears of my
life, and all the ability I possessed. . . .
Save in the defence of my native State,
I never desire again to draAV my sword."
To his sister he wrote at the same time :
" We are now in a state of war which
will yield to nothing. The whole
South is in a state of revolution, into
which Virginia, after a long struggle,
has been drawn, and though I recog
nize no necessity for this state of things,
and would have forborne and pleaded
to the end for the redress of grievances,
real or supposed, yet in my own person
I had to meet the question, whether I
should take part against my native
State. With all my deATotion to the
Union, and the feeling of loyalty and
duty of an American citizen, I have
not been able to make up my mind to
raise my hand against my relatives, my
children, my home. I have, therefore,
resigned my commission in the army,
and save in defence of my native State,
with the sincere hope that my poor ser
vices may never be needed, I hope 1
may never be called on to draw my

ROBERT EDWARD LEE.

489

sword." These utterances exhibit in
few words the opinions and feelings of
Col. Lee at this time. Imbued with
the doctrine of State rights, impressed
with sympathy for his kindred, unable
to extricate himself from what he
thought the necessity of his position,
he reluctantly bade adieu to the nation
from which he had derived all his hon
ors, and accepted the fortunes of a war
ring section of the country.
Lee was ready to Sacrifice his fortune
for Virginia, and the State, conscious
of his worth, hastened to draw him
from his retirement and entrust her wel
fare to his hands. On the 23d of April
he Avas appointed by Gov. Letcher Ma
jor-General of the State forces, and
solemnly pledged himself before the
Virginia convention then assembled at
Richmond, to the duty assigned to him.
He was immediately actively engaged in
organizing the bodies of troops which
hastened to Virginia as the battle-ground
of the war. When the government of
the Southern Confederacy was fully es
tablished at Richmond, he received in
July, the rank of Brigadier-General in
the Confederate army. His estate at
Arlington Heights, where he had at the
outset erected fortifications, was now
deserted, and in the possession of the
Union forces. His first active cam
paign was in another direction in west
ern Virginia, whither he was sent as
the successor of General Garnett. There
in August, he planned an attack upon
the camp of Gen. Reynolds at Cheat
Mountain, which failed of success, when
in September, he proceeded to the re
lief of Generals Floyd and Wise, then
'pressed by Gen. Rosecrans in the Ken-
hawa region. The winter closing in

and forbidding further operations for
the season in this quarter, Lee was re
called and sent to superintend the mil
itary coast defences of South Carolina
and Georgia. Early in 1862 he was
summoned to Richmond to assist in
the defence of the capital, which was
presently beleaguered by the great
army of McClellan. Gen. Joseph E.
Johnson was at that time in command
and directed the first grand attack on the
Union army before the city, in the bat
tle of Seven Pines. Being severely
wounded and disabled in this engage
ment, that officer was compelled to re
tire from active service, and Gen. Lee
was on the instant appointed to the
chief command of the army.
His active superintendence became
at once visible in the much improved
condition of the camps and general
discipline of the army. It Avas a criti
cal moment, and whatever was to be
done must be done quickly. Lee rose
to the emergency and initiated a series
of strategical movements, which in a
short time effected the deliverance of
Richmond, and the retreat of the army
of McClellan. To gain thorough in
formation of the position and resources
of his enemy, Gen. Stuart was sent in
the middle of June on his famous cav
alry raid through the outposts and
around McClellan's army. This was
successfully accomplished, and impor
tant information gained which deter
mined Lee in his plan of attacking his
foe to the East of Richmond, on the
north bank of the Chickahominy. Foi
this purpose " Stonewall " Jackson, an
officer on whom Lee always placed
great reliance, and who never failed
him, was called with his command from

490

ROBERT EDWARD LEE.

the Valley, where he confronted Fi'e
mont, at Harrisburg. Jackson adroitly
brought of his forces, reaching Ash
land on the 25th of June, when he was
Avithin striking distance of the right
wing of McClellan's forces. The next
day, in combination with Gen. Hill, he
was in action at Mechanicsville ; and
the following, struck a decided blow in
the desperate encounter at Cold Har
bor. That night began the full retreat
of the army of McClellan to the James,
Gen. Lee being on the field and direct
ing operations in the vigorous moATe-
ments of that week of battles, ending
with the Confederate disaster at Mal
vern Hill.
When McClellan in August left the
Peninsula, recalled to the Potomac to
co-operate with Gen. Pope, then on
the line of the Rapidan, Lee anti
cipating the new aggressive moA'e-
ment of his enemy, sent forward Jack
son with his corps, to arrest his ope
rations. The battle of Cedar Run
was fought and followed up by a
northern Confederate movement, direct
ed by Lee in person, which culminated
in the second battle of Bull Run or
Manassas. There was much confusion
at this time in the military regulation
of the Union forces, and Lee, thinking
it a favorable opportunity to carry out
a policy eagerly demanded by the
South, resolved upon the invasion of
Maryland, which was supposed to have
a large population ready to serve the
Confederate cause. The second battle
of Manassas was fought on the 30th of
August. On the 4th of September
Lee crossed the Potomac, with his army
in front of Leesburg ; and on the 8th
issued the following proclamation to

is

the people of Maryland, from his head
quarters, near Frederickton : "It ii
right," said he, " that you should know
the purpose that has brought the army
under my command within the limits
of your State, so far as that purpose
concerns yourselves. The people of the
Confederate States have long watched
with the deepest sympathy, the wrongs
and outrages that have been inflicted
upon the citizens of a commonwealth
allied to the States of the South by the
strongest social, political and commer
cial ties, and reduced to the condition
of a conquered province. Under the
pretence of supporting the Constitu
tion, but in violation of its most valu
able provisions, your citizens have been
arrested and imprisoned, upon no charge,
and contrary 'to all the forms of law.
A faithful and manly protest against
this outrage, made by a venerable and
illustrious Marylander, to whom in bet
ter days no citizen appealed for right
in vain, was treated with scorn and
contempt. The government of your
chief city has been usurped by armed
strangers; your Legislature has been
dissolved by the unlawful arrest of its
members ; freedom of the Press and of
speech has been suppressed; words
have been declared offences by an arbi
trary decree of the Federal Executive,
and citizens ordered to be tried by mil
itary commission for what they may
dare to speak. Believing that the peo
ple of Maryland possess a spirit too
lofty to submit to such a GoA^ernment,
the people of the South have long wish
ed to aid you in throAving off this for
eign yoke, to enable you to again enjoy
the inalienable rights of freemen, and
restore the independence and sovereign*

ROBERT EDWARD LEE.

491

ty of your State. In obedience to this
wish our army has como among you,
and is prepared to assist you with the
power of its arms in regaining the
rights of which you have been so un
justly despoiled. This, citizens of Mary
land, is our mission, so far as you are
concerned. No restraint upon your
free will is intended — no intimidation
will be allowed within the limits of
this army at least. Marylanders shall
once more enjoy their ancient freedom
of thought and speech. We knoAv no
enemies among you, and Avill protect all
of you in every opinion. It is for you
to decide your destiny freely andAvith-
out constraint. This army will respect
your choice, whatever it may be, and
while the Southern people will rejoice
to welcome you to your natural posi
tion among them, they will only wel
come you when you come of your own
free will."
Maryland, however, did not respond
to the call, and Lee was left to his
own resources, while McClellan who
was in command of the hastily reorgan
ized Union army, advanced to meet him
on the line of the Potomac. Lee plan
ned his campaign skilfully; made an
easy conquest of the garrison and stores
at Harpers Ferry, but unable to hold
his ground at South Mountain was
again overpowered at Sharpsburg or
Antietam in the bloody battle of the 1 7th
of September, from which he retired
discomfited, hurrying his forces across
the Potomac.
Another campaign followed before
the year closed. In November McClel
lan crossed the Potomac and was push
ing southward along the mountain
ranges on the east, when he was super

seded by Gen. Burnside, who turned
his force to the left and confronted Lee,
who, in anticipation of his movement,
had carried a large portion of his army
to Fredericksburg. Here the armies
lay opposed to each other till the mid
dle of December, when Burnside sent
his forces across the river, and the ac
tion known as the battle of Fredericks
burg was fought with equal determin
ation on each side. Lee's dispositions
were well made and, seconded by the
bravery of his troops, secured the
speedy withdrawal of Burnside to his
former camp, on the left bank of the
river. New efforts were now made for
the spring campaign, and the war on
the Rappahannock was again renewed
in April, Lee holding his own position
on the Southern bank, the Union army
under a new commander, General Hook
er, confronting him on the north. A
passage of the river was again forced
at the end of April, 1862 ; Gen. Hooker
by a vigorous flank movement estab
lishing himself at Chancellorsville, to
the west of Fredericksburg. Here in
the " Wilderness," as the desolate range
of countiy was called, in the first days -
of May was fought the battle of Chan
cellorsville, memorable ' for the extraor
dinary severity of the struggle, the re
treat of the Union forces, and the loss
to the Confederate ranks of the brave
and resolute Southern champion, a sol
dier whose devotion to arms and to his
cause was tinged with fanaticism — ¦
Stonewall Jackson.
The fall of Jackson, wounded by his
own men, touched Lee deeply. When
he heard from Jackson of his dis
aster, he wrote to him, " could I have
directed events, I should have chos-

492

ROBERT EDWARD LEE.

en, for the good of the countiy, to
have been disabled in your stead ;" and
when the news of the death of his
friend and fellow soldier came, Lee an
nounced the event to his army : " The
daring, skill and energy of this great
and good soldier, by a decree of an all-
wise Providence, are now lost to us.
But while we mourn his death, we feel
that his spirit lives and will inspire the
whole army with his indomitable cour
age and unshaken confidence in God as
our hope and strength. Let his name
be a watchword for his corps, who have
followed him to victory on so many
fields. Let officers and soldiers imitate
his invincible determination to do every
thing in the defence of our beloved
country." Once more it was determined by Lee,
in tne summer of 1863, to make a pow
erful diversion, if not secure final suc
cess, by carrying the war across the Po
tomac, into the Northern States. The
motives which influenced him, are indi
cated in his report of the campaign
which ensued. "The position," says
he, " occupied by the enemy opposite
Fredericksburg being one in which he
could not be attacked to advantage, it
was determined to draw him from it
The execution of this purpose embraced
the relief of the Shenandoah Valley
from the troops that had occupied the
lower part of it during the Winter and
Spring, and, if practicable, the transfer
of the scene of hostilities north of the
Potomac. It was thought that the cor
responding movement on the part of
the enemy, to which those contemplated
by us would probably give rise, might
offer a fair opportunity to strike a blow
at the army therein commanded by

General Hooker, and that, in any event,
that army would be compelled to leave
Virginia, and possibly to draw to its
support troops designed to operate
against other parts of the country. In
this way it was supposed that the ene
my's plan of campaign for the summer
would be broken up, and part of the
season of active operations be consumed
in the formation of new combinations
and the preparations that they would
require." Accordingly on the 3d of June, he
began the movement of his troops in
the direction of Culpepper. A cavalry
reconnoissance, -/rdered by Hooker,
brought the opposing forces in contact,
and developed the intentions of the
enemy. The lower Valley again be
came the scene of military operations,
and Lee pushed an advanced body of
cavalry across the Potomac to • Cham-
bersburg. While this was engaged in
seizing upon supplies, he himself Avas
moving by the Valley, while Hooke'
pursued a parallel course to the east of
the mountains, coming up in time to
guard the lower fords of the Potomac.
On the eve of crossing the river, on the
21st, Lee issued his general orders for
the regulation of his army " in the ene
my's country." Requisitions were to
be made upon the local authorities for
needed supplies; which, if granted,
were to be paid for or receipts given ;
and if not yielded, to be seized. The
corps of Ewell, Longstreet and Hill now
crossed the river at Williamsport and
Shephardstown. Hagerstown, Cham-
bersburg, Shippensburg and Carlisle,
Pennsylvania, were rapidly occupied in
succession, and Harrisburg threatened.
A force was sent eastward to protect

ROBERT EDWARD LEE.

493

the main column. A portion of the
invading army levied a contribution at
Gettysburg on the 26th, and York, to
the eastward, suffered a similar visita
tion two days afterward. Hooker was
now succeeded in the chief command
of the Union army by Meade, who
rapidly concentrated his forces. The
first of July saw the beginning of what
in truth, was the decisive conflict of
the war, at Gettysburg. The march
toward this place, says Lee in his offi
cial report, "was conducted more slow
ly than it would have been had the
movements of the Federal army been
known. The leading division of Hill
met the enemy in advance of Gettys
burg on the morning Of the first of
July. Driving back these troops to
within a short distance of the town, he
there encountered a large force, with
which two of his divisions became en
gaged. Ewell, coming up with two of
his divisions by the Heidlersburgh
road, joined in the engagement. The
enemy was driven through Gettysburg
with heavy loss, including about five
thousand prisoners and several pieces
of artillery. He retreated to a high
range of hills south and east of the
town. The attack was not pressed that
afternoon, the enemy's force being un
known, and it being considered advis
able to await the arrival of the rest of
our troops. Orders were sent back to
hasten their march ; and, in the mean
time, every effort was made to ascer
tain the numbers and position of the
enemy, and find the most favorable
point of attack. It had not been in
tended to fight a general battle at such
a distance from our base, unless attack
ed by the enemy ; but finding ourselves

unexpectedly confronted by the Feder
al army, it became a matter of difficul
ty to withdraw through the mountains
with our large trains. At the same
time the country was unfavorable for
collecting supplies Avhile in the presence
of the enemy's main body, as he was
enabled to restrain our foraging parties
by occupying the passes of the moun
tains with regular and local troops. A
battle thus became, in a measure, un
avoidable. Encouraged by the success
ful issue of the engagement of the first
day, and in view of the valuable results
that would ensue from the defeat of the
army of General Meade, it was thought
advisable to renew the attack. The
remainder of Ewell's and Hill's corps
having arrived, and two divisions of
Longstreet's, our preparations were
made accordingly. During the after
noon intelligence was received of the
arrival of General Stuart at Carlisle,
and he was ordered to march to Gettys
burg, and take position on the left."
Continuing his report, the second and
third days' battles are thus noticed by
Gen. Lee : " The preparations for at
tack were not completed until the after
noon of the second. The enemy held a
high and commanding ridge, along
which he had massed a large amount
of artillery. General Ewell occupied
the left of our line, General Hill the
centre, and General Longstreet the right.
In front of General Longstreet the ene
my held a position, from which, if he
could be driven, it was thought that
our army could be used tp advantage
in assailing the more elevated ground
beyond, and thus enable us to reach
the crest of the ridge. That officer was
directed to endeavor to carry this posi-

494

ROBERT EDWARD LEE.

tion, while General EAvell attacked di
rectly the high ground on the enemy's
right, which had already been partial
ly fortified. General Hill was instruct
ed to threaten the centre of the Federal
line, in order to prevent reinforcements
being sent to either wing, and to avail
himself of any opportunity that might
present itself to attack. After a severe
struggle, Longstreet succeeded in get
ting possession of and holding the de
sired ground. Ewell also carried some
of the strong positions which he as
sailed, and the result was such as to
lead to the belief that he would ulti
mately be able to dislodge the enemy.
The battle ceased at dark. These par
tial successes determined me to continue
the assault next day. Pickett, with
three of his brigades, joined Longstreet
the following morning, and our batter
ies were moved forward to the position
gained by him the day before. The
general plan of attack was unchanged,
except that one division and two brig
ades of Hill's corps were ordered to
support Longstreet. The enemy, in the
meantime, had strengthened his line
with earthworks. The morning was
occupied in necessary preparations, and
the battle recommenced in the afternoon
of the third, and raged with great vio
lence until sunset. Our troops succeed
ed in entering the advanced works of
the enemy, and getting possession of
some of his batteries; but our artillery
having nearly expended its ammunition,
the attacking columns became exposed
to the heavy fire of the numerous bat
teries near the summit of the ridge, and
after a most determined and gallant
struggle, were compelled to relinquish
their advantage and fall back to

their original positions, with severe
loss." Such, in Lee's simple statement, was
the battle of Gettysburg; the heaviest
blow yet suffered by the Confederate
army of Virginia. Lee bore the disas
ter with patient resignation, made the
best dispositions for retreat, and suc
ceeded in a disadvantageous march in
bringing the remains of his shattered
army across the Potomac into Virginia,
Seven months of comparative quiet
ensued in Virginia, while new combina
tions were being effected. Lee fell
back with his army to the Rapidan.
In October and November there was
some sharp fighting with' Meade on the
old sltirmishing grounds of Eastern
Virginia, but nothing decisive. In the
spring of 1864, Gen. Grant, crowned
with western laurels, was appointed
Lieutenant-General and Commander-in-
Chief of the Union forces. In the be
ginning of May, he opened the contest
in earnest ; crossing the Rapidan in the
face of Lee's army, and then began in
the Wilderness, a series of battles un
paralleled during the war, in dogged,
hard fighting and loss of life, in which
Grant's obstinacy at last prevailed j
bringing him by a continued flank
movement to the old battle-ground of
the Chickahominy, and Lee once more
in Richmond. The south side of the
James river, before Petersburg, then be
came the main field of operations,
Avhere, during the summer and autumn
of this eventful year various engage
ments were fought ; the winter succeed
ed with manifold conflicts, and yet Lee
held Richmond. In February, 1865,
destined to be the last year of the war,
Lee, in obedience to a universally ex-

..j

ROBERT EDWARD LEE.

495

pressed desire, was created General-in-
Chief of the army of the Confederate
States. In assuming the command, he
said in a general order : " Deeply im
pressed with the difficulties and respon
sibilities of the position, and humbly
invoking the guidance of Almighty
God, I rely for success upon the cour
age and fortitude of the army, sustain
ed by the patriotism and firmness of
the people — confident that their united
efforts, under the blessing of Heaven,
will secure peace and independence."
But the exhausted Confederate cause
Avas past surgery. Not even the skill,
prudence and military combinations of
Lee could save it. Its strength was ef
fectually broken by the grand march of
Sherman in the South, and Grant at
the end of March was closing in upon
the devoted city. Lee. made one last
effort for Richmond in an attack on the
Union forts before Petersburg, on the
25th ; but the valor of his troops was
of no avail. Overpowered by numbers
and superior resources, he was compel
led to evacuate his capital. The Union
forces followed on the track of his en
feebled army, and on the 9th of April
Lee surrendered to Grant, at Appomat
tox Court House. He received honor
able terms, being paroled with his
army. The war was virtually at an
end. On the 10th of April, Lee issued the
following farewell address to his army :
" After four years *of arduous service,
ii— 63

marked by unsurpassed courage and
fortitude, the army of Northern Virgin
ia has been compelled to yield to over
whelming numbers and resources. I
need not tell the survivors of so many
hard-fought battles, who have remained
steadfast to the last, that I have con
sented to this result from no distrust
of them; but holding that valor and
devotion could accomplish nothing that
could compensate for the loss that
would attend the continuation of the
contest, I have determined to avoid the
useless sacrifice of those Avhose past
vigor has endeared them to their coun
trymen. By the terms of agreement,
officers and men can return to their
homes, and remain there till exchanged.
You will take with you the satisfac
tion that proceeds from the conscious
ness of duty faithfully performed, and
I earnestly pray that a merciful God
will extend you His blessing and pro
tection. With an increasing admira
tion of your constancy and devotion to
your country, and a grateful remem
brance of your kind and generous con
sideration of myself, I bid you an af
fectionate farewell."
After this Lee returned to his home
in Richmond, where he passed a few
months in retirement ; and in October,
having taken the amnesty oath requir
ed by the Government, was installed
President of Washington College at
Lexington in the Valley of Virginia

JOSEPH EGGLESTON JOHNSTON.

Joseph Eggleston Johnston was
born in Prince Edward County, Vir
ginia, about the year 1808. , His family
is of Scottish ancestry. - In the war of
the revolution, his father, Peter, served
in his youth, as an officer in General
Greene's southern campaign. He. was
afterwards distinguished as a lawyer
and judge. He married Miss Wood) a
niece of the eminent Patrick Henry.
Joseph, the subject of this notice, was
the youngest of his sons by this mar
riage. He was educated in" Virginia,
and early .developed that vigor of char-r
acter which led to his appointment as
a cadet at West Point He passed with
credit the course of studies at the Mili*
tary Academy, graduated in 1829, and
was assigned to the fourth artillery,
with the usual rank of breAret Second
Lieutenant. In 1836 he was appointed
First Lieutenant and Assistant Com
missary, of Subsistence ; and in 1838,
First Lieutenant of Topographical En
gineers., He served in the latter capa
city during the Florida war; in which
he was distinguished for his services.
On one occasion, being engaged in a
survey at an exposed situation, the
party was waylaid by an ambuscade of
Indians, and its officers falling under a
murderous fire, Johnston took command,
rallied the men, and while standing in
(490,

front conducting the action, was struck
by a ball in the forehead which passed
oyer the skull. In 1846, he attained
the full rank of Captain, and the fol
lowing year accompanied General Scott
to Mexico, with the brevet rank of
Lieutenant-Colonel of Voltigeurs. He
was wounded in a reconnoissance on
the advance of Cerro Gordo, and:again
at Chapultepec, where General Scott
in his report of the action, records him
" among the first in the assault." It is
reported, that Scott remarked of him,
"Johnston is a great soldier, but he
has an unfortunate knack of getting
himself shot in nearly every engage
ment." After the Mexican war, Johnston
held the rank of Captain in the Topo
graphical Engineers, and was subse
quently a Colonel in the regular army.
In 1860, he became Quartermaster-
General, with the rank of Brigadier
General, and held this position at the
outbreak of the recent war. Immedi
ately after the fall of Sumter, in April,
1861, he sent. in, his resignation, and
was at once appointed by Gov. Letcher
to a prominent command of the State
forces of Virginia. In this capacity he
appeared at Harper's Ferry, where
"Stonewall" Jackson had preceded
him, at the close of May. His first act

JOSEPH EGGLESTON JOHNSTON.

497

was for strategic purposes, to with
draw his force from Harper's Ferry, an
untenable position, and Concentrate it
at Winchester, for the defence of the
lower Valley, then threatened by Gen.
Patterson. On the passage of the Po
tomac by the latter at the beginning of
July, in the " affair at Falling Waters,"
and other operations, Johnston held
Patterson in the vicinity of the river
while he kept open the passes of the
mountains, and had his " Army of the
Shenandoah " in readiness to co-operate
with Beauregard, in case the Union
forces should advance from Washing
ton, The expected crisis came on the
18th with McDowell's advance and at
tack on the forces at Bull Run; and
the same day a telegraph message
reached Johnston calling for the pres
ence of his army. He immediately set
his force in motion, arriving with his
advance on the field at Manassas on the
20th, the day before the decisive en
gagement. Being the senior of Gen
eral Beauregard in rank, says the latter
in his official report, " he necessarily
assumed command of all the force of
the Confederate States, then concen
trating at this point. Made acquainted
with my plan of operations and its
positicns to meet the enemy, he gave
them his entire approval, and gener
ously directed their execution under
my command." The two Generals were
side by side in the forenoon of the day
of the battle, watching and directing
the movements, and at a critical mo
ment Johnston himself "impressively
and gallantly charged to the front with
the colors of the Fourth Alabama regi
ment by his side, all the field-officers of
the regiment having been previously

disabled."* At the urgent request of
Beauregard, Johnston shortly after this,
left the immediate conduct of the field
to hasten the arrival of the anxiously
expected reinforcement and so, in the
words of Beauregard, "by his energy
and sagacity, his keen perception and
anticipation of my needs, directed the
reserves as to ensure the success of the
day." General Johnston remained in com
mand in Virginia during the year while
McClellan was mustering and organiz
ing his forces for a new campaign, and
when, in the Spring of 1862, the move
ment was imminent, withdrew his forces
to the line of the Rappahannock within
supporting distance of Richmond.
When McClellan pressed Yorktown on
the Peninsula, Johnston reinforced Ma-
gruder, and when evacuation of the
works was a necessity, Johnston resist
ed the onward march of the1 Union
forces in the battle Of Williamsburg
on his way to the defences at Rich
mond. By his strategy of the employ
ment of " Stonewall " Jackson on Mc
Dowell's flank and rear, he threatened
Washington and effectually restrained
that officer from sending the reinforce
ments to the great Union army, loudly
demanded by McClellan. The last day
of May, he encountered the forces of
the latter on the Chickahominy in their
near approach to Richmond on their
left wing in the battle of the " Seven
Pines." The engagement, in conse
quence of the heavy storm of the pre
vious night, was delayed till the after
noon when the principal attack was
made by Longstreet and Hill, followed
by the advance of the division of G.
* Beauregard's Official Report.

498

JOSEPH EGGLESTON JOHNSTON.

W. Smith. About sunset Johnston
while directing the action, was struck
from his horse, severely wounded by a
fragment of a shell, and at the same
time a minie ball entered his shoulder
and passed down his back. In falling
from his horse, he broke two of his
ribs, and in this unhappy condition
was carried into Richmond, where by
the most vigilant attention during two
months, he became so far recovered as to
leave the city for the country. In conse
quence of this disaster, General Robert
E. Lee was called to the command of
the Confederate army in Virginia. It
was not till December that Johnston,
still an invalid, was enabled to resume
active duties, when he took the field in
the South West in command of a new
geographical department with his head
quarters at Chattanooga. He Ausited
Murfreesboro' when Bragg was in com
mand, and subsequently Jackson, hav
ing Rosecrans to contend with in Ten
nessee, and Grant and Sherman on the
Mississippi. He was at Jackson when
the battle of Murfreesboro' was fought
in December, and in the conflict of
opinion which ensued in regard to Gen.
Bragg's efficiency, sustained that officer
and defended the conduct of his army
in a correspondence with President
Jefferson Davis on the subject. "I
can find," he wrote in February, 1863,
after visiting the army, " no record of
more effective fighting in modern bat
tles than that of this army in Decem
ber, evincing skill in the commander
and courage in the troops which fully
entitle them to the thanks of the
Government." In reference to a report
which had reached him that the Presi
dent had intended to remove Bragg

and place him in a direct command of
his army, he added, "I am sure that
you will agree with me, that the part I
have borne in this investigation would
render it inconsistent with my personal
honor to occupy that position. I be-
lieA^e, however, that the interest of the
service requires that General Bragg
should not be removed."
Notwithstanding this protest, John
ston was in March ordered to the com
mand ; but his health did not permit
him to take the field till the following
month. In May he was called upon at
Jackson, Mississippi, to meet the forces
of General Grant who was then invest
ing Vicksburg, and before leaving the
folloAving month, was engaged in inef
fectual designs and attempts for the sup
port of Pemberton at the beleaguered
city. When Vicksburg fell, Johnston
was compelled to fall back from Jack
son, and we subsequently hear of him
at Mobile, Atlanta and other places
superintending the fortifications and
summoning new troops to the field.
Having firmly established the Confed
erate line of defence in Tennessee and
North Georgia in December, he super
seded Bragg in direct command of
the army with his headquarters at
Dalton, Georgia. General Sherman
was now opposed to him and in the
Spring of 1864, commenced that series
of movements, which, with the corres
ponding operations of General Grant
m the East, brought the war for the
Union to a successful termination. It
is not necessary here to pursue the
events of the campaign from May to
July during which Johnston at Tunnel
Hill, Dalton, Resaca, Kenesaw Moun
tain, and other spots stoutly resisted

JOSEPH EGGLESTON JOHNSTON.

499

the advance of Sherman, who by much
hard fighting and a series- of flank
movements in July, had driven his
enemy to Atlanta. There' on the 17th
of the month, Johnston, whose wise
policy of defence was impatiently
borne at Richmond, was superseded by
General Hood.
The change of commanders did not
improve the Confederate situation in
Georgia. Atlanta fell before the com
binations and strategy of Sherman,
who, in the months which ensued, de
feated the strategy of Hood in his rear,
and finally, in November, began that
grand march which opened to him a
successful progress to the sea board at
Savannah, and early in 1865, conquered
South Carolina in its capital Columbia
and its stronghold Charleston. At this
last critical moment in February, John
ston was again called to the field and
took the command of the forces in
North Carolina for the defence of
Goldsboro' and the points threatened
by Sherman. He resisted the latter's
progress in the battle of Bentonville,
but it was fought in vain. Sherman
now in communication with Grant
pressed on and occupied Raleigh on the
13th of April, Johnston retiring before
him. In the meantime, on the 9th,
Lee had surrendered to Grant in Vir
ginia; resistance in North Carolina
was hopeless and Johnston (on the
14th) addressed a letter to Sherman
requesting a suspension of active opera
tions "in order to stop the further
offusions of blood and devastation of
property." Sherman promptly acceded
to the proposition and at noon, on the

17th, at a point near Durham's Station
intermediate between the pickets of
the two armies, met Johnston for the
first time in his life, though as he said,
"we had been exchanging shots con
tinually since May, 1863. Our inter-
A*iew " he adds in his report of these
transactions, " was frank and soldier
like, and he gave me to understand
that further war on the part of the
Confederate troops was folly, that the
'cause' was lost, and that every life
sacrificed after the surrender of Lee's
army was the highest possible crime."
Another interview took place between
the Generals the next day, when a
' memorandum ' was agreed upon of a
cessation of hostilities, and a basis for
peace securing certain civil privileges
to the Southern States on their return
to the Union. This ' memorandum ' was
set aside by the Government at Wash
ington; General Grant himself came
to Raleigh to superintend the matter,
and new military conditions of sur
render were agreed upon, similar to
those accorded to General Lee. On
the 26th of April, the negotiations
were completed near Durham's Station.
The army of Johnston was now paroled
and its Commander took leave of his
companions in arms in a judicious
farewell address.
Promptly accepting the duties im
posed by a new order of events, John
ston quietly returned to the path of
civil life, and at the close of the year
accepted the position of President of
the National Express Company organ
ized in the Southern States.

JEFFERSON DAVIS.

Jbffeesok Davis was born June 3,
1808, in that part of Christian County,
Kentucky, which now forms Todd's
County. His father, Samuel Davis, a
planter- of the region, had in his youth
served in the Revolutionary War. Soon
after the birth of his son he removed
with his family to Mississippi and set
tled near Woodville, Wilkinson County.
Young Davis was educated at home
and at Transylvania College, Ken
tucky, whence in 1824, at the age of
sixteen, by the favor of President Mon
roe, he entered the West Point Military
Academy as a Cadet. He graduated
at that institution in 1828, and with
the usual appointment of brevet Second
Lieutenant, served as an infantry and
staff officer upon the Northern frontier.
In 1832, he was promoted First Lieu
tenant of Dragoons. He was in active
service at this time in the " Black
Hawk War." From 1833 to 1835 he
served on the Western frontier in war
fare with the Indians. In June, 1835,
he resigned his commission, was mar
ried to the daughter of Colonel Tay
lor, ' afterwards the President, with
whom he had served, and settled as
a cotton planter in Mississippi and
passed eight years of his life in this
agricultural pursuit — a period also that
was not without its occupation in those
— (500)

political studies in which he appeared

afterwards an adept. In 1843, he be
came known to the public as a politi
cian advocating the Democratic party,
and in the following; year was chosen
Presidential elector, in the canvass which
resulted in the election of Mr. Polk
In 1845-6, he was a member of the
House of Representatives in Congress,
and in the latter year, on the breaking
out of the Mexican war, was chosen
their Colonel by the first regiment of
Mississippi volunteers. He resigned
his seat in Congress, accepted the ap
pointment, and joining the regiment at
New Orleans, hastened to Gen. Taylor
on the Rio Grande. He was in the ac
tion at Monterey, and greatly distin
guished liimself at Buena Vista, in a ser
vice, at a critical momerit of the action,
specially acknowledged by Gen. Tay
lor. " His Mississippi riflemen," wrote
that officer in his dispatch, ""brought
into action against an immensely supe
rior force, maintained themselves for a
long time unsupported and with heavy
loss, and held an important post in the
field until reinforced. Col. Davis,
though severely wounded, remained in
the saddle until the close of the action.
His distinguished coolness and gallantry
at the head of his regiment on this day
entitle him to the particular notice of

JEFFERSON DAVIS.

501

the government"- On his return to
New Orleans on the expiration of the
term of his regiment, he Avas appointed
by President Polk, Brigadier General
of Volunteers ; but this he declined
" considering, the offer an invasion of
the rights of the States — a power
usurped by Congress and by them
vested in the President— and a viola
tion of that provision of , the Constitu
tion which reserves to .the States re
spectively the appointment of the of
ficers of militia.";x" '
Pursuing his route homeward, Col.
Davis was received with enthusiasm,
and in 1847 was chosen by the Legis
lature of Mississippi to fill a vacancy
in the United /States Senate, and the
following year was elected for a full
term of six years. In the Senate he
was appointed Chairman of the Gom-
mittoe on military affairs and distin
guished himself as a member, of the
Democratic party in debates on the
slavery question and " State rights."
In September, 1851, he resigned his
seat in the Senate to become a candi
date for the office' of Governor of Mis
sissippi, and was defeated, when he re
tired again to his plantation, to be re
called to public life by an electioneer
ing campaign in behalf of General
Pierce as a candidate for the Presi
dency, in speaking in behalf of his
friend, in Mississippi, Tennessee and
Louisiana. When Pierce was installed
in the Presidency in 1853, Col. Davis
was appointed Secretary of War, and
held this position during the four years
of the administration; marking the
period by revised army regulations, an
improvement in arming the troops and
* I ivingston's Sketches of Eminent Americans.

his furtherance of several military ex
plorations of railway routes to the
Pacific. When President Buchanan
came into office he was again sent to
the Senate for the term ending March
4, 1863. Before the expiration of that
period he had again resigned under ex
traordinary circumstances and was serv
ing as the President of a divided, rival
Republic. In Senator Davis the South had ever
a warm and unflinching advocate of its
ultra political doctrines and preten-
tions, inculcated by Calhoun of the
right of secession "as an essential at
tribute of State sovereignty ;" — theor
ies, which on the election ot President
Lincoln it was resolved should become
realities. At the opening of the last
session of Congress in Buchanan's ad
ministration Davis pronounced the
message of the President temporizing in
its policy and declared that " the Con
stitution gave no power to the Federal
Government to coerce a State." On
the 21st of January, when Mississippi
had declared her intention by her Con
yention to separate from the United
States, he withdrew from the Senate
stating his resolve in a final speech.
" It has been," said he, " a conviction of
pressing necessity, it has been a belief
that we are to be deprived in the Union
of the rights which our fathers be
queathed to us, which has brought
Mississippi to her present decision."
For the members of the Senate he ex-
rprtised his regard and in view of com
ing events, entreated peaceable rela
tions in the future. "The reverse,"
said he, " may bring disaster on every
portion of the countiy; and if you
will have it thus, we will invoke the

502

JEFFERSON DAVIS.

God of our fathers, who delivered them
from the power of the lion ; to protect
us from the ravages of the bear ; and
thus, putting our trust in God, and in
our own firm hearts and strong arms, we
will vindicate the rights as best we may."
The Avords had in them a flavor of
war anticipative of the impending
bloody contest. Davis was the master
spirit of the opinion which directed
the conflict; and when the Southern
preparations for a ucav Government
Avere completed he was, without a dis
sentient voice in the Convention of six
seceding States — South Carolina, Mis
sissippi, Alabama, Florida, Georgia and
Louisiana — which met at Montgomery,
Alabama, chosen President of the Con
federation. This took place on the 9th
of February, 1861; on the 16th, Davis
arrived at Montgomery from his Mis
sissippi plantation and addressed the
citizens at evening. " It may be," said
he, "our career will be ushered in in
the midst of storm. It may be, that
as this morning opened with clouds,
mist and rain, we shall have to en
counter inconvenience at the beginning.
But, as the sun rose, it lifted the mist
and dispelled the clouds, and left the
pure sunlight of Heaven; so will the
progress of the Southern Confederacy
carry us safe to the harbor of Consti
tutional liberty and political equality."
The new Government was now or
ganized and presently transferred to
Richmond as the capital of the Con
federacy. A second session of the
Congress was held there on the 29th of
April, after the fall of Sumter, at which
Davis delivered an elaborate Message
a manifesto of the Southern argument

for secession for the judgment of the
world. War against the United States
was now formally declared and hence
forth the biography of President Davis
is the history of the short-lived South
ern Confederacy. But manifold and
complicated events were crowded into
that brief period of four years during
which the contest was continued. We
are not called upon here to repeat the
incidents, nor is the true history of the
administration of Davis, in its domestic
policy and the conduct of the war, yet
fully revealed. From time to time at
the successive meetings of the Confed
erate Congress, President Davis ad
dressed that body and spoke to the
world in his Messages, declaring his
policy, calling for increased exertions
on the part of the people and denounc
ing the conduct of his enemies. With .
the exception of one or two visits to
his camps in the South, he remained at
Richmond during the war and, when
the capital was about to fall, retired
with an escort through North and
South Carolina to Georgia, where he
was pursued and overtaken by a party
of soldiers in the vicinity of Irvings-
ville, in Wilkinson County, on the 10th
of May, 1865.
He was conducted to Savannah and
thence brought by sea to Fortress Mon
roe where he was left, a prisoner of
state, to await the action of Congress
and the President. After remaining
for some years in confinement he was.
released on bail, and his trial, which
had been postponed from time to time,
was at length virtually abandoned.
After his liberation he retired to
Europe.

William tecumseh sherman.

Major General Sherman, of the
United States Army, is a descendant of
one of the early emigrant's from Eng
land to Massachusetts in the first gen
eration of colonists of that region. The
family established itself in Connecticut
where, as time passed on, more than
one of the name became conspicuous in
the public annals. Of this race was
the celebrated Roger Sherman who,
from a shoemaker became an eminent
lawyer; in the Avar of the Revolution,
a signer of the Declaration of Inde
pendence ; a framer of the Constitution,
and a Senator of the United States.
Taylor Sherman, the grandfather of the
General, was a judge -Of one of the
Connecticut courts. His widow re
moved with her family to what is now
the town of Lancaster, in Fairfield
county, in the State of Ohio. One of
her children, Charles Robert Sherman
became distinguished in Ohio as a
lawyer, and at the time of his death,
in 1829, was a Judge of the Supreme
Court of the State. Of his eleven
children, William Tecumseh was the
sixth. He was born in Lancaster,
Ohio, February 8, 1820: His father
being suddenly cut off by cholera in
middle life, the family was inadequate
ly provided for, and William, then
about nine years old, was adopted by
IL— 64

the Honorable Thomas Ewing, an inti
mate friend of Judge Sherman. The
youth was educated at Lancaster, and
at the age of sixteen, on the nomina
tion of his guardian Mr. Ewing, then a
Representative in Congress, . was ad
mitted, as a Cadet at the Military
Academy of West Point. He entered
with zest into the usual occupations of
the place, pursued his studies with
credit, and in 1840 graduated sixth of
his class, with a fixed determination to
devote his life, to the service of his
country. His. desire, as expressed in a
letter which he wrote while an under
graduate, was " to, go into the infantry,
be stationed in the far West, out of the
reach of what is terined. civilization,
and there remain as long as possible."
In another characteristic letter, written
a few months before he graduatedj he
says of the Presidential canvassing
then going on : " You, no doubt, are
not only firmly impressed, but abso
lutely certain, that General Harrison
will be our next president. For my
part, though of course but a superficial
observer, I do hot think there is the
least hope of such a change, since his
friends have thought proper to enve
lope his name with log cabins, ginger
bread, hard cider, and such humbugg
ing, the sole object of which plainly is
(503)

504

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

to deceive and mislead his ignorant and
prejudiced, though honest, fellow-citi
zens; whilst his qualifications, his hon
esty, his merits, and services are barely
alluded to."* Sherman thus early had
a true soldier's dislike to shams and
pretences. On graduating, he was appointed
Brevet Second-lieutenant in the Third
Regiment of Artillery, and was sent to
serve in Florida. There he remained
for two years employed in the duties
of camp- life, with occasional inroads
upon the belligerent Indians; and in
1842, after a brief period of command
at Fort Morgan, at the Bay of Mobile,
was stationed at Fort Moultrie at
Charleston harbor. Here, and with
occasional employment in other parts
of the South, he continued till 1846,
the period of the war with Mexico,
when he was assigned to duty as re
cruiting-officer at Pittsburgh, Pennsyl
vania. At his request for active ser
vice in the field, he was presently, in
the summer of that year, ordered to
California to act in concert with Colonel
Kearney's overland expedition. There
he was employed as Acting-Assistant
Adjutant-General of the forces in the
Tenth Military Department, discharg
ing the duties of the office with ex
emplary fidelity and efficiency. In
1850, he returned to the United States,
and Avas married to the daughter of his
friend Mr. Ewing. In the following
year he was brevetted captain for his

Sherman and his Campaigns : a military Bio
graphy by Ool. S. M. Bowman and Lt.-Cpl R B
twin, to which valuable work and a Memoir of
Sherman also by Ool. Bowman in the United States
Sernce Magazine for August and September. 1864
™ are greatly jntobtol for the materia]s >
notice.

services in Mexico. In 1853, the Army
offering but an inadequate means of
support, he resigned his commission
and became a manager of the branch
banking-house of Messrs. Lucas, Turner
& Co., at San Francisco. He was en
gaged in this business for some years,
till the branch-house was closed up;.
after Avhich, early in 1860, he accepted
the office of Superintendent of the
State Military Academy of Louisiana,
at Alexandria.
Here he displayed his usual vigor and
administrative abilities, and when the
schemes of the Southern leaders were
ripe for open hostility they hoped to
secure the powerful aid of Sherman
and retain him in their service. But
he was too clear-sighted and sincere
a patriot to accept such conditions.
When the disguise which had been
maintained was removed, and the State
of Louisiana had placed itself in an
open attitude of rebellion, Sherman
did not for a moment hesitate, but
placed his resignation in the hands of
the governor in the following charac
teristic letter: "Sir, As I occupy a
quasi-military position under this State,
I deem it proper to acquaint you that
I accepted such a position when Louisi
ana was a State in the Union, and when
the motto of the Seminary inserted in
marble over the main door, was : ' By
the liberality of the General Govern
ment of the United States : The Union
— JEsto Perpetua: Recent events fore
shadow a great change, and it becomes
all men to choose. If Louisiana with
draws from the Federal Union I prefer
to maintain my allegiance to the old
constitution as long as a fragment of it
[survives, and my longer stay here

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

505

would be wrong in every sense of the
word. In that event, I beg you will
send or appoint some authorized agent
to take charge of the arms and muni
tions of war here, belonging to the
State, or direct me what disposition
should be made of them. And, further
more, as President of the Board of Su
pervisors, I beg you to take immediate
steps to relieve me as superintendent
the moment the State determines to se
cede ; for on no earthly account will I
do any act, or think any thought, hos
tile to or in defiance of the old govern
ment of the United States."
Sherman now left the South, joined
his family at the North, and soon offered
his services at Washington for the sup
pression of the rebellion, of the danger
and magnitude of which he in vain
warned the authorities. Lincoln, it is
said, smiled at his enthusiastic energy.
" We shall not need many men like
you," said he; "the affair will soon
blow over." Sherman had lived too
long in the South, and had too recently
escaped from the intrigues of the rebel
chiefs, not to knoAV better. It was the
season of palliatives ; nor could the in
genuous mind of an American patriot
readily be brought to believe in the
probability of so atrocious a war as
that which was soon after waged
against the honor and liberties of the
country. Sherman's friends, knowing
his ability, sought employment for him,
first as Chief Clerk of the War De
partment, and afterwards as Quarter
master-General in place of Gen. Joseph
E. Johnson, resigned ; but both appli
cations were neglected. Presently Fort
Sumter fell ; the North was aroused to
arms, and Sherman was directed to

raise a regiment of three months' men
in Ohio. He did not believe in three
months' soldiers in a war the magni
tude of which he clearly foresaw, and
waited, knowing that he would not
have long to wait, for more regular and
important service. When the United
States army was enlarged in May, he
was appointed colonel of the new Thir
teenth regiment of Infantry. Before
the command was organized, Gen. Mc
Dowell, with the levies of Volunteers,
took the field before Washington and,
in ATiew of the impending attack on
the enemy at Manassas, Col. Sherman
was ordered to report to him, and in
the organization of his forces, was ap
pointed to the command of the Third
Brigade in the division of Brigadier-
General Tyler. The brigade was com
posed of the Thirteenth, Sixty-ninth,
and Seventy-ninth NeAV York and
Second Wisconsin regiments of Infan
try, with Capt. Ayres' battery of the
Regular Artillery.
In the moArement preliminary to the
battle at Bull Run, Sherman's Brigade
was in the advance with Tyler's di
vision, in the occupation of Centreville,
and in the dispositions of the memor
able Sunday, the 21st of July, was
sent to threaten the Stone Bridge, to
cover the grand flanking movement on
the enemy's left. When the action was
brought. on by the passage of the river
at Sudley's Springs, Hurler's division
was attacked, Sherman crossed the
stream to support the advance, and
was presently actively engaged. The
part which his brigade bore in the en
gagement is thus narrated in his official
report : " We found no difficulty in
crossing over, and met no opposition in

__ '

506

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

ascending the steep bluff opposite with
our infantry, but it was impassable to
the artillery. Advancing slowly and
continuously with the head of the col
umn, to give time for the regiments in
succession to close up their ranks, we
first encountered a party of the enemy
retreating along a cluster of pines.
Lieut.-Col. Haggerty of the Sixth-ninth
regiment, without orders, rode over
and endeavored to intercept their re
treat. One of the enemy, in full view
and short range, shot Haggerty, and he
fell dead from his horse. The Sixty-
ninth opened fire on this party, which
was returned ; but, determined, to effect
our junction with Hunter's- Division, I
ordered this fire to cease, and we pro
ceeded with caution toward the field,
when we then plainly saw our forces
engaged. Displaying our colors con
spicuously at the head of our column,
we succeeded in attracting the atten
tion of our friends, and soon formed
the brigade in rear of Col. Porter.'s.
Here I learned that Col. Hunter was
disabled by a severe wOnnd, and then
Gen. McDowell was on the field. I
sought him out and received his orders
to join in the pursuit of the enemy,
who were falling back to the left of the
road by which the army had approached
from Sudley's Springs. Placing Col.
Quimby's Regiment of Rifles in front,
in column by division, I directed the
other regiments to follow in line of bat
tle, in the order of the Wisconsin Sec
ond, New York Seventy-ninth, and
New York Sixty-ninth.
" Quimby's regiment advanced stead
ily down the hill and up the ridge,
from which he opened fire upon the
enemy, who had made another stand

on ground very favorable to him, and
the regiment continued advancing as
the enemy gave way till the head of
the column reached the point near
which Rickett's battery was so severe
ly cut up. The other regiments de
scended the hill in line of battle, un
der a severe cannonading, and the
ground affording comparative shelter
against the enemy's artillery, they
changed directions by the right flank
and followed the road before mentioned.
At the point where this road crossed
to our left the ground was swept by a
most severe fire by artillery, rifle, and
musketry, and we saw in succession
several regiments driven from it, among
them the Zouaves and battalion of nia-
rines. Before reaching the crest of the
hill the roadway was worn deep enough
to afford shelter, and I kept the several
regiments in it as long as possible ; but
when the Wisconsin Second was abreast
of the enemy, by order of Maj. Wads-
worth, of Gen. McDowell's staff, I
ordered it to leave the roadway by the
left flank and to attack the enemy. This
regiment ascended to the brow of the
hill steadily, received the severe fire of
the enemy, returned it with spirit, and
advanced delivering its fire. This regi
ment is uniformed in gray cloth, almost
identical with that of the great bulk
of the secession army, and when the
regiment fled in confusion and retreated
toward the road there was a universal
cry that they were being fired upon by
our own men. The regiment rallied
again, passed the brow of the hill a
second time, and was again repulsed in
disorder. By this time the NeAV York
Seventy-ninth had closed up, and in
like manner it was ordered to cross the

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

507

brow of the hill and drive the enemy
from cover. It was impossible to get a
good view of the ground. In it there
was one battery of artillery, which
poured an incessant fire upon our ad
vancing column, and the ground was
irregular, with small clusters of pines,
affording shelter, of which the enemy
took good advantage. The fire of rifles
and musketry was very seArere. The
Seventy-ninth, headed by its colonel,
(Cameron,) charged across the hill, and
for a short time the contest Avas severe.
They rallied several times under fire,
but finally broke and gained the cover
of the hill. This left the field open to
the New York Sixty-ninth, Col. Cor
coran, who, in his turn, led his regiment-
over the crest, and had in full open
view the ground so severely contested.
The firing was very severe, and the
roar of cannon, musketry, and rifles,
incessant. It was manifest the enemy
was here in great force, far superior to
us at that point. The Sixty-ninth held
the ground for some time, but finally
fell back in disorder.
" At this time Quimby's regiment Oc
cupied another ridge- to our left, over
looking the same field of action, and
similarly engaged. Here (about S\
p. m.) began the scene of disorder and
confusion that characterized the remain
der of the day. Up to that time all
had kept their places, and seemed per
fectly cool, and used to the shell and
shot that fell comparatively harmless.
Crossing Bull Run, I sought it at its last
position before the Brigadier crossed,
but it was not there; then passing
through the wood where in the morning
we had first formed line, we approached
the blacksmith's shop, but there found

a detachment of rebel cavalry; then
made a circuit, avoiding Cub Run
bridge into Centreville, where I found
Gen. McDowell. From him I under
stood that it was his purpose to rally
the forces and make a stand at Centre
ville. But about 9 o'clock at night I
received from Gen. Tyler in person the
order to continue the retreat to the Po
tomac. This retreat was by night, and
disorderly in the extreme. The men of
different regiments mingled together,
and some reached the river at Arling
ton, some at Long Bridge, and the
greater part returned to their former
camps at or near Fort Corcoran. I
reached this point at noon next day,
and found a miscellaneous crowd cross
ing over the aqueduct and ferries. Con
ceiving this to be demoralizing, I at
once commanded the guard to be in
creased, and all persons attempting to
pass over to be stopped. This soon
produced its effect. Men sought their
proper companies and regiments, com
parative order was restored, and all was '
posted to the best advantage."
The action at Bull Run was a pra'c-
tical comment on Sherman's advice as
to the conduct of the war. A larger
scale of operations was adopted, and in
the new appointments which became
requisite, he was, in August, commis
sioned Brigadier-General of Volunteers.
On the organization of the Department
of Kentucky, in the following month,
he was ordered to report to Gen. An
derson, then at its head, and on the re
tirement of that officer in October be
came his successor. His duties were to.
call out the quota of the troops of the
State summoned by the President, and
presently to oppose the enemy, who

008

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

was in force in the southern and west
ern counties. Whilst he was marshal
ling his troops for this purpose, the
general spirit of disaffection was gain
ing ground in the State. The Confede
rates, with vast resources in their rear,
were in strength on its frontiers, and
everything, to his experienced eye, por
tended a desperate struggle. At this
time, in October, Cameron, the Secre
tary of War, and Adjutant-General
Thomas visited the Department in a
western tour of observation and inquiry.
" What force do you require ?" they
asked of Sherman. " Sixty thousand,"
was his reply, " to drive the enemy out
of Kentucky ; two hundred thousand to
finish the war in this section." The
report of the interview Avas published ;
the candor, sincerity, and, as it proved,
absolute correctness of the estimate,
Avere misrepresented and interpreted
as eAddence of sympathy with the re
bellion, or, more charitably, to derange
ment of the brain of the calculator.
Sherman, the most sagacious man at
the time in the army, was popularly
represented, in consequence of this
sound arithmetical calculation, as out
of his wits. The story of this delusion
is worth remembering as a possible
corrective or preventive of such dan
gerous opinions in the future. "A
writer for one of the newspapers," says
his biographer, Col. Bowman, " declared
that Sherman Avas crazy. Insanity is
hard to prove ; harder still to disprove,
especially when the suspicion rests up
on a difference of opinion; and then
the infirmities of great minds are al
ways fascinating to common minds.
The public seized with avidity upon
the anonymous' insinuation and ac

cepted it as an established conclu

sion.

It was probably in consequence of
this absurdity that General Sherman,
in November, was superseded in the
Department of Kentucky by General
Buell. He was ordered to report to
Major-General Halleck, then in com
mand of the important military Depart
ment of the West, with his headquar
ters at St. Louis. When Gen. Grant
followed up his capture of Fort Henry
in February, 1862, Gen. Sherman waa
stationed at Paducah, charged with
sending forward reinforcements and
supplies — a most important duty, which
required all his energy, but giving lit
tle distinction in the theatre of war.
From this employment, on the subse
quent organization of the Army of the
Tennessee, Sherman was called to the
field in command of its Fifth Division.
In the middle of March he landed with
his brigades at Pittsburgh Landing, on
the Tennessee river, preparatory to the
intended movement of General Halleck
with his army upon the enemy under
Beauregard at Corinth. The several
divisions of the Army of the Tennessee
arrived soon after, and were encamped
at the landing, where Gen. Grant, in
command of the whole, waited the ar
rival of Gen. Buell with his forces from
Nashville. The latter was slow in
coming up, and Johnston, the Confede
rate commander, taking advantage of
the delay, resolved upon attacking the
Union army in its camp on the river
before the junction was effected. Ac
cordingly, having his troops well in
hand, he made his assault in force on
the morning of the 6th of April upon
Sherman's front and centre at Shiloh

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

509

Church, and immediately after upon
other portions of the lines. The battle
became general ; the enemy pushed on
in numbers and with great vigor, deter
mined, if possible, to drive the army
into the river. His success in the early
part of the day seemed to promise this
result, as positions were taken, regi
ments broken, and defeat appeared im
minent ; but Sherman, compelled to
retreat, fell back only to maintain a
new line, and by his energy in the field
in arousing the courage of his men, by
his skillful dispositions, the effective
management of his batteries, and the
support he gave the other divisions,
saved the fortunes of the day. Though
severely wounded by a bullet in the
left hand, he persistently kept the field
and was in the thickest of the fight
General Grant, Avho arrived on the field
dfter the action was advanced, testified
generously to the merits of his division
commander. " At the battle of Shiloh,"
he subsequently wrote to the War De
partment, " on the first day Sherman
held with raw troops the key-point of
the landing. It is no disparagement to
any other officer to say that 1 do not
believe there was another division com
mander on the field who had the skill
and experience to have done it. To
his individual efforts I am indebted
for the success of that battle." In the
night the division of Lewis Wallace
came up, Buell's army arrived, the gun
boats in the river did good service in
repelling and annoying the enemy, and
every preparation was made to attack
the enemy in turn on the morrow.
General Beauregard, who had succeeded
in the command to Sidney Johnston
who was slain upon the field, awaited

the assault at Shiloh, after a sharp
contest was driven back, and on the
afternoon of the, 7th Avas on his retreat
to Corinth. On this second day Sher
man's gallantry was equally conspicu
ous. He had three horses shot under
him, and, mounting a fourth, kept the
field. To Shiloh succeeded the gradual ap
proach to and final capture of Corinth,
in the operations attending which Sher
man's division was constantly conspic
uous. It was foremost in the advance,
and first to enter the abandoned town.
" No amount of sophistry," Ayrote Sher
man in his congratulatory order on the
event, " no words from the leaders of
the rebellion can succeed in giving the
evacuation of Corinth, under the cir
cumstances, any other title than that of
a signal defeat, more humiliating to
them and their cause than if we had
entered the place over the dead and
mangled bodies of their soldiers. We
are not here to kill and slay, but to
vindicate the honor and just authority
of that government which has been be
queathed to us by our honored fathers,
and to whom we would be recreant if
we permitted their work to pass to our
children, marred and spoiled by ambi
tious and wicked rebels." For his suc
cess in this campaign, Sherman was ap
pointed Major-General of Volunteers.
During the month of June, Sherman
was employed in active operations in
northern Mississippi, and in July, when
General Grant, oh the appointment of
General Halleck to the chief command
at Washington, succeeded that officer
in the enlarged Department of the Ten
nessee, was sent to take charge of the
city and district of Memphis, a mixed

510

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

military and civil authority, which he
exercised with his accustomed energy
and activity, coercing the disaffected
inhabitants, where necessary, protecting
the interests of the nation, punishing
guerrillas, and as far as possible causing
safety and order in place of peril and
confusion. It was a position of no lit
tle difficulty to adjust the proper limits
of restraint, and Sherman was naturally
exposed, a probable proof of his fair
ness, to censure from both sides. Vin
dicating his course to a complaining
Southern lady, he subsequently wrote :
" During my administration of affairs
in Memphis, I know it was raised from
a condition of death, gloom, and sad
ness to one of life and comparative
prosperity. Its streets, stores, hotels,
and dwellings were sad and deserted as
I entered it, and when I left it life and
business prevailed, and over fourteen
hundred enrolled Union men paraded
its streets, boldly and openly carrying
the banners of our country. No citi
zen, Union or secesh, will deny that I
acted lawfully, firmly, and fairly, and
that substantial justice prevailed with
even balance."
In the further operations of General
Grant on the Mississippi river, he con
stantly relied on the high military quali
ties of Sherman. Vicksburg was the
next important point to secure on the
river. It was the key, in fact, of the
Southwest. The enemy knew this,
and took measures to protect it accord
ingly. To its capture Grant now de
voted all his energies. His first at
tempt was planned in concert with
Gen. Sherman. The latter was to em
bark on the river descend to the Yazoo,
and attack the Vicksburg defences

directly, while Grant was to advance
by land on the line of the railway U
Jackson, and there secure the outlet of
the city in the rear. Both of these de
signs failed in execution. Grant was
detained by the surprise and surrender
of his depot of supplies at Holly Spring,
and Sherman, making good his landing
on the Yazoo, after much gallant fight
ing in the last week of December, was
compelled to turn back from the em
barrassed ground and powerful defences
of the enemy at the Chickasaw Bluff.
As he was returning from the river in
his transports, Gen. Sherman was met
by Gen. McClernand, by whom he was
superseded in his command. A new
organization of the army, however, was
presently effected, by which Sherman
was placed in command of the Fifteenth
Army Corps, one of the four great divi
sions of Gen. Grant's Army of the Ten
nessee. The first attack on Vicksburg had
been well planned, and was unsuccess
ful. It was presently redeemed by
another, planned by Gen. Sherman,
which was successful. This was the
attack on Fort Hindman, or Arkansas
Post, a well-constructed work on a
bluff at an advantageous point of the
Arkansas river, fifty miles from its
mouth, the guardian of the central por
tion of the State and of the approach
to Little Rock. A week after the re-
embarkation on the Yazoo, on the 9th
of January, 1863, the troops of Sher
man and McClernand, in concert with
the fleet of Admiral Porter, were in ac
tion at Arkansas Post. Sherman's dis
positions were, as usual, well made, in
vesting the fort in the rear, while its
guns were silenced by the gunboats.

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

511

We now arrive at the series of im
portant operations attending the siege
and final capture of Vicksburg. The
first of these with which. Sherman was
connected was the attempt of Admiral
Porter to penetrate to the. Yazoo in the
rear of the formidable works at Haines'
Bluff, by Steele's bayou and an in
ner chain of creeks and water-courses,
which it was considered might be tra
versed by the gunboats. Sherman was
to cross the swampy land with a divi
sion of his corps in support of the move
ment. The boats met with unexpected
difficulty in the impeded course of the
streams, which were obstructed, by
fallen trees, and occasionally so narrow
as to render navigation difficult. But
by perseverance these impediments
were overcome, and the fleet was about
to enter the Yazoo, as anticipated, when
its course was arrested by a body of
the enemy on land. The vessels, sorely
beset by batteries, sharp-shooters, and
renewed efforts to obstruct the streams,
were in great peril, when they were re
lieved by the arrival -of Sherman's ad
vance, which had . made its . way by
forced marches, under unusual difficul
ties, to their rescue. The success of
this enterprise would have secured an
important portion of the country, rich
in supplies, on the enemy's flank, and a
base for further operations.
After the failure of this undertaking
Grant . began in earnest his meditated
approach to Vicksburg by effecting a
landing below the city. To accomplish
this it was necessary to descend the
Mississippi on the right bank to a point
sixty or seventy miles distant from
Milliken's Bend, and then cross the
river to the new line of operations on
II.— 65

the flank and rear of Vicksburg. The
corps of Sherman was left to bring up
the rear in the land movement of the
troops, but they were not left without
an object. While Grand Gulf, the first
point of assault below Vicksburg, was
being assailed, it was necessary, to pre
vent reinforcements- being sent to the
garrison, that the attention of the enemy
should be directed in another direction.
Sherman was accordingly sent up the
Yazoo to manoeuvre and apparently
threaten the old works at Haines' Bluff.
This was skillfully performed, as di
rected, on the last days of April, and
when this work was accomplished Sher
man put his command in rapid motion
on the west bank of the Mississippi for
the proposed point opposite Grand
Gulf, where he crossed on the 6th of
May. That place, in consequence of
the engagement at Fort Gibson, and
other operations, after resisting the first
assault of the gun-boats, had been evac
uated, and Sherman, in compliance with
the orders of General Grant, was free to
push on in support of the rapid move
ment of the other corps. While Mc-
Pherson, the gallant commander of the
Sixteenth Army Corps, was successfully
engaged at Raymond on the 12th, Sher
man was skirmishing at Fourteen Mile
Creek. Their forces were then joined
in pursuit of the enemy at Jackson,
where they acted in concert in defeat
ing and driving the enemy from the city.
Sherman was ordered to destroy the
railways in the vicinity, and a few days
after was in motion again, in what
Grant called " his almost unequalled
march" from Jackson to Bridgeport,
compelling the evacuation of Hairtes'
Bluff and connecting the right of Grant's

512

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

army with the Mississippi. Vicksburg
Avas thus invested, and after two un
successful assaults, conducted with ex
traordinary valor, in which Sherman's
corps bore a distinguished part, the regu
lar siege operations here commenced
which led to the surrender of the garri
son, and the occupation of the city on
the memorable Fourth of July. Sher
man was now sent in pursuit of the Con
federate General Joseph E. Johnston,
who had been hovering in the rear,
seeking to relieve the garrison at Vicks
burg. He overtook him at Jackson,
drove him from the city, and again and
more thoroughly destroyed the railway
communications leading inland. " The
siege of Vicksburg and last capture of
Jackson and dispersion of Johnston's
army," Avrote General Grant, " entitle
General Sherman to more credit than
usually falls to the lot of one man to

earn.

There is something highly pleasing
in those generous expressions of admi
ration of one another's labors on the
part of the leaders of this arduous
campaign; an exhibition of courtesy,
indeed, which might have been expected
from men who were sharing extraordin
ary perils, and constantly encountering
uncommon difficulties by heroic adven
ture or the patient endurance of war.
" I can appreciate," wrote Sherman to
Admiral Porter immediately after the
surrender of Vicksburg, "the intense
satisfaction you must feel at lying be
fore the very monster that has defied
us with such deep and malignant hate,
and seeing your once disunited fleet
again a unit ; and better still, the chain
that made an inclosed sea of a link in
the great river broken forever. In so

magnificent a result I stop not to count
who did it. It is done, and the day of
our nation's birth is consecrated and
baptized anew in a victory won by the
united Navy and Army of our country.
God grant that the harmony and mu
tual respect that exists between our re
spective commanders, and shared by all
the true men of the joint service, may
continue forever, and sure to elevate
our national character, threatened with
shipwreck. Thus I muse as I sit in my
solitary camp out in the wood, far from
the point for which we have justly
striven so long and so well, and though
personal curiosity would tempt me to
go and see the frowning batteries and
sunken pits that have defied us so long,
and sent to their silent graves so many
of our early comrades in the enterprise,
I feel that other tasks lie before me,
and time must not be lost. Without
casting anchor, and despite the heat
and the dust and the drought, I must
again into the bowels of the land to
make the conquest of Vicksburg fulfill
all the conditions it should in the pro
gress of the war."
Sherman acted up to his resolve. No
one was more intent than himself that
the military advantage of the fall of
Vicksburg should not be lost, and " ful
filled all its conditions " with more in
domitable perseverance. Henceforth
he is the conspicuous personage in the
conduct of the war in the Southwest
and South, and his genius is in those
extensive regions from the Mississippi
to the Atlantic, everywhere active and
triumphant. Vicksburg having fallen,
the central position of Chattanooga be-
came the • immediate point of conflict
between the opposing forces. Thither

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

513

on the defeat of Rosecrans by Gen.
Bragg; before that place, Sherman was
summoned, in September, by Gen.
Grant from his position in the rear of
Vicksburg. Taking his corps by water
to Memphis he set out from that place
in the early days of October, on a march
of unusual difficulty, passing, through
Corinth and Iuka, driving the enemy
from Tuscombia, and crossing the Ten
nessee river with his force at Eastport,
and thence by forced marches pursuing
his way far north of the river by Fay-
etteville to Bridgeport, in the immedi
ate vicinity of the scene of action, which
he reached on the 15th of November.
On his march he received at Iuka
orders from General Grant assigning
him to the command of the Army of
the Tennessee under the new organiz
ation by which Grant himself Avas
placed at the head of the Military
Division of the Mississippi.
Sherman's arrival at Bridgeport was
the signal for Grant's decisive move
ments upon the enemy's positions at
Missionary Ridge and Lookout Moun
tain. The leading strategic operations
were entrusted to Sherman and carried
out by him with his usual diligence and
inventive resources. Seizing the out
posts of the enemy, he promptly suc
ceeded in getting his command across
the river, and on the afternoon of Nov
ember 24 surprised and occupied the
extremity of the Ridge. The next day
he folloAved up this advantage by a de
termined attack on the enemy's second
and stronger position on the Ridge, and
so maintained the struggle with the
enemy, that upon the advance of Gen.
Thomas upon the centre in the after
noon, the victory was complete. Sher

man was now further employed in pur
suing the flying foe and cutting off his
railway communications with Long-
street, who had been sent to besiege
Burnside at Knoxville. The latter se
verely pressed, in danger of starvation,
called loudly for help, and Sherman,
ever " good at need," was sent by Gen.
Grant to his relief The Army of the
Tennessee, after its fatiguing series of
marches, and sanguinary engagements,
was certainly in no condition for the
extraordinary efforts required in this
new expedition . But there was no time
to rest or even provide for its necessi
ties. " Seven days before," says Sher
man in his report, " we had left our
camps on the other side of the Tennes
see, with two days' rations, without a
change of clothing, stripped for the
fight, with but a single blanket or coat
per man, from myself to the private in
cluded. Of course, we that had no pro
vision, save what we gathered along
the road, and were ill-supplied for such
a march. But we learned that twelve
thousand of our fellow-soldiers were
beleaguered in the mountain-town of
Knoxville, eighty-four miles distant,
that they needed relief, and must have
it in three days. This was enough ; and
it had to be done." And it Avas done :
the march, notwithstanding the pres
ence of the enemy on the route, and
the serenity of mid-winter in the mount
ains, was accomplished between the
28th of November and the 5th of De
cember, when, on the immediate ap
proach of the army to the city, Long-
street having tried his strength against
the works without success, retreated,
and Knoxville was again in safety.
General Burnside felt that' he was

514

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

greatly indebted to Sherman for his
deliverance; and courteously acknowl
edged the obligation. Reviewing the
entire campaign from Vicksburg to
Knoxville, Gen. Sherman in his report
says, " I must do justice to my command
for the patience, cheerfulness and cour
age which officers and men . have dis
played throughout, in battle, on the
march and in camp. For long periods,
without regular rations or supplies of
any kind, they have marched through
mud and over rocks, sometimes bare
footed, without a murmur, without a
moment's rest. After a march of over
four hundred miles, without stop for
three successive nights, we crossed the
Tennessee, fought our part of the battle
of Chattanooga, pursued the enemy
out of Tennessee, and then turned more
than a hundred miles north and com
pelled Longstreet to raise the siege of
Knoxville, which gave so much anxiety
to the whole country."
There being now necessarily an in
termission of active army operations,
Sherman returned for a time to the
scene of his recent command at Mem
phis. Here he had again an oppor
tunity, and was required to deal Avith
the disaffected population of his mili
tary district. But he was as ready for
this emergency as for any other, being
quite as adroit with the pen as with
the sword, as his frequent correspond
ence with various parties on many of
the questions arising out of the war has
witnessed. On this occasion he was
called to give instructions to an officer
of his command at Huntsville, Ala
bama. In his letter he wisely discrimi
nated between the forbearance of the
government and the presumption of the

" secessionist " inhabitants, freely prof
fering the generosity of the one and
censuring the ill conduct of the other.
" We of the North," said he, " are, be
yond all question, right in our lawful
cause, but we are not bound to ignore
the fact that the people of the South
have prejudices, which form a part of
their nature, and which they cannot
throw off without an effort of reason or
the slower process of natural change.
Now, the question arises, should we
treat as absolute enemies all in the '
South who differ from us in opinion or
prejudice, — kill or banish them? or
should we give them time to think and
gradually change their conduct, so as
to conform to the new order of things
which is slowly and gradually creeping
into their country ?" To this question
Sherman was ever ready to reply in the
affirmative ; though where the safety
of his army and the interests of the
country were at stake, he was never
disposed to relax the rigors of his com
mand. He set the matter, in fact, very
plainly before the people. " I would
advise the commanding officers at
Huntsville and such other towns as are
occupied by our troops to assemble the
inhabitants and explain to them these
plain, self-evident propositions, and tell
them that it is for them now to say
whether they and their children shall
inherit the beautiful land which, by the
accident of nature, has fallen to their
share. The Government of the United
States has in North Alabama any and
all rights which they choose to enforce
in war, — to take their lives, their homes,
their lands, their everything, because
they cannot deny that war does exist
there; and war is simply power, unre-

WILLIAM TE CUMSEH SHERMAN:

515

strained by constitution or compact.
Ifthev want eternal war, well and
good ; we will accept the issue and dis
possess them and put our friends in
possession; I know thousands and
millions of good people who, at simple
notice, would come to North Alabama
and accept the elegant houses and
plantations now there. If the people
of Huntsville think different, let them
persist in war three years longer, and
then they will not be consulted. Three
years ago, by a little reflection and pa
tience, they could have had a hundred
years of peace and prosperity, but they
preferred war. Very well. Last year
they could have saved their slaves, but
now it is too late ; all the powers of
earth cannot restore to them their slaves
any more than their dead grandfathers.
Next year their lands will be taken, —
for in war we can take them, and right
fully too, — and in another year they
may beg in vain for their lives. A
people who will persevere in war be
yond a certain limit ought to know the
consequences. Many, many people, with
less pertinacity than the • South, have
been wiped oat of national existence."
The next move of Sherman was of
his own planning, " the Meridian raid,"
or military expedition, which, "crossing
the centre of the State of Mississippi,
in February, 1864, penetrated to the
Alabama line, and did immense«damage
to the important railway communica
tions on the route. Much more might
have been accomplished had the whole
scheme of operations been carried out.
It was designed by Gen. Sherman that
Gen. W. S. Smith, of his command,
starting from Memphis, should advance
with about eight thousand cavalry on

the Mobile and Ohio railway to Merid
ian, where he himself, having marched
due east from Vicksburg, would effect a
junction with him, and act further
against the Confederate forces, in that
region. Sherman moved Avith regular
ity, and was promptly at Meridian, but
finding that the expected cavalry had
not arrived, and there Avas no prospect
of their approach, after destroying the
railways and vast stores of the enemy,
fell back leisurely to his former position
at Vicksburg. The expedition was in
tended as a diversion in favor of certain
projected naval operations against Mo
bile, which were deferred for a more
favorable opportunity.
The succeeding month of March was
marked by an event of great import
ance in the history of the war. Gen.
Grant was called to Washington with
the rank of Lieutenant-General, and
placed in command of the armies of the
United States. He was at the time at
Nashville; was' hastily summoned, but
did not leave the Department till he
had written a letter of hearty acknowl
edgment to his friend Sherman at
Memphis, thanking him cordially for
his assistance, and attributing his suc
cess largely " to the energy, skill and
harmonious putting forth of that en
ergy and skill, of those whom it has
been my good fortune to have occupy
ing subordinate positions under me."
To Sherman and McPherson he ad
dressed his expressions of gratitude,
" as to the men whom, above all others,
I feel indebted for whatever I had of
success." The reply of Sherman to the
generous communication was equally
frank, cordial and explicit. It is a re
markable letter, well worth presenting

516

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

in our pages as a part of the biography
of its author. " You do yourself," he
wrote, " injustice and us too much
honor in assigning to us too large a
share of the merits which have led to
your high advancement. I know you
approve the friendship I have ever pro
fessed to you, and will permit me to
continue, as heretofore, to manifest it
on all proper occasions. You are now
Washington's legitimate successor, and
occupy a position of almost dangerous
elevation ; but if you can continue, as
heretofore, to be yourself, simple, hon
est and unpretending, you will enjoy
through life the respect and love of
friends, and the homage of millions of
human beings, that will award you a
large share in securing to them and
then' descendants a government of law
and stability. I repeat, you do Gen.
McPherson and myself too much honor.
At Belmont you manifested your traits,
neither of us being near. At Donal-
son, also, you illustrated your whole
character. I was not near, and Gen.
McPherson in too subordinate a capac
ity to influence you. Until you had
won Donalson, I confess I was almost
cowed by the terrible array of anar
chical elements that present themselves
at every point ; but that admitted a ray
of light I have followed since. I be
lieve you are as brave, patriotic and
just as the great prototype Washing
ton — as unselfish, kind-hearted and hon
est as a man should be — but the chief
characteristic is the simple faith in suc
cess you have always manifested, which
I can liken to nothing else than the
faith a Christian has in the Saviour.
This faith gave you victory at Shiloh
and Vicksburg. Also, when you have

completed your best preparations, you
go into battle without hesitation, as at
Chattanooga — no 'doubts — no reverses ;
and I tell you, it was this which madp
us act with confidence. I knevv, where-
ever I was, that you thought of me
and if I got in a tight place you would
help me out, if alive. My only point
of doubt was, in your knowledge of
grand strategy, and of books of science
and history ; but, 1 confess, your com
mon sense seems to have supplied all
these. Now as to the future. Don't
stay in Washington. Come West ; take
to yourself the whole Mississippi Val
ley. Let us make it dead-sure — and'I
tell you the Atlantic slopes and Pacific
shores will follow its destiny, as sure
as the limbs of a tree live or die with
the main trunk. We have done much,
but still much remains. Time and
time's influences are Avith us. We
could almost afford to sit still, and let
these influences work. Here lies the
seat of the coming empire ; and from
the West, when our task is done, Ave
will make short work of Charleston
and Richmond, and the impoverished
coast of the Atlantic."
On Grant's departure for the East,
Gen. Sherman was assigned to the com
mand of the military division of the,
Mississippi. On receiving this order
at Memphis, on the 14th of March, he
hastened to join Grant at Nashville,
and accompanied him as far as Cincin
nati on his way to Washington. " Ic
a parlor of the Burnet House at Cin
cinnati," says Col. Bowman, " bending
over their maps, the two generals, who
had so long been inseparable, planned
together that colossal structure whereof
the great campaigns of Richmond and

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

517

Atlanta were but two of the parts, and
grasping one another firmly by the
hand, separated, one to the east, the
other to the west, each to strike at the
same instant his half of the ponderous
death-blow." The Atlanta campaign of Gen. Sher
man began with the concentration of
his forces, numbering nearly ninety-
nine thousand men and two hundred
and forty-four guns in the three army
divisions of the Cumberland, the
Tennessee, and the Ohio, at or within
supporting distance of Chattanooga.
Thomas, McPherson, and Schofield were
the major-generals commanding the
several divisions. In front the Confede
rate General Johnston, with about
forty thousand infantry and four thou
sand cavalry, held the line of the Chat
tanooga and Atlanta railway, with
his headquarters at Dalton. This was
the general position at the beginning
of May, when Sherman, having col
lected vast stores of supplies at Chat
tanooga, directed his army against
the enemy. Atlanta, the object of the
campaign, was one hundred and thirty
miles from his starting point by a road
easily to be defended at various passes
and defiles. It is not necessary here to
pursue the details of Sherman's mas
terly report, of the march and the series
of battles by which he made good his
progress, and within three months of
continuous hard fighting, at length
gained his end. We may content our
selves with the striking summary of
the leading events of the campaign pre
sented in Gen. Sherman's congratulat
ory, orders to his army at the close from
his headquarters " in the field Atlanta"
on the 8th of September.

" The officers and soldiers," says he,
" of the armies of the Cumberland,
Ohio, and Tennessee, have already re
ceived the thanks of the nation, through
its President and Commander-in-Chief;
and it now remains only for him who
has been with you from the beginning,
and who intends to stay all the time,
to thank the officers and men for their
intelligence, fidelity and courage dis
played in the campaign of Atlanta.
On the 1st of May our armies were
lying in garrison, seemingly quiet from
Knoxville, and our enemy lay behind
his rocky-faced barrier at Dalton,
proud, defiant and exulting. He had
had time since Christmas to recover
from his discomfiture on the Mission
Ridge, with his ranks filled and a neAV
Commander-in-Chief, second to none of
the Confederacy in reputation for skill,
sagacity, and extreme popularity. All
at once our armies assumed life and
action and appeared before Dalton ;
threatening Rocky Face, we threw our
selves upon Resaca, and the rebel army
only escaped by the rapidity of its re
treat, aided by the numerous roads
with which he was familiar, and which
were strange to us. Again, he took
post in Allatoona, but we gave him no
rest ; and by a circuit toward Dallas
and subsequent movement to Ack-
worth, we gained the Allatoona Pass.
Then followed the eventful battles
about Kenesaw, and the escape of the
enemy across Chattahoochie river. The
crossing of the Chattahoochie and
breaking of the Augusta road, was
most handsomely executed by us, and
will be studied as an example in the
art of war. At this stage of c ur game,
our enemies dissatisfied with their old

51S

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

and skillful commander, selected one
more bold and rash. New tactics were
adopted. Hood first boldly and rapid
ly, on the 20th of July, fell on our
right at Peachtree creek, and lost.
Again, on the 2 2d he struck our ex
treme left, and was severely punished ;
and finally again, on the 28th he re
peated the attempt at our right, and
that time must have been satisfied, for
since that date he has remained On the
defensive. We slowly and gradually
drew our lines from Atlanta, feeling
for the railroads which supplied the
rebel army and made Atlanta a place
of importance. We must concede to
our enemy that he met these efforts
patiently and skillfully, but at last he
made the mistake we had waited for so
long, and sent his cavalry to our rear,
far beyond the reach of recall. In
stantly our caA'alry was on his only re
maining road, and we followed quickly
with our principal army, and Atlanta
fell into our possession as the fruit of
well concerted measures, backed by a
brave and confident army. This com
pleted the grand task which had been
assigned us by our Government, and
your general again repeats his personal
and official thanks' to all the officers
and men composing this army, for the
indomitable courage and perseverance
which alone conld give success. We
have beaten our enemy on every
ground he has chosen, and haATe wrest
ed from him his own Gate City, where
were located his foundries, arsenals and
workshops, deemed secure on account
of their distance from our base, and
the seemingly impregnable obstacles
supervening. Nothing is impossible to
an army like this, determined to vindi

cate a Government which has rights
wherever our flag has once floated, and
is resolved to maintain them at any
and all costs. In our campaign many,
yes, very many of our noble and gal
lant comrades have preceded us to our
common destination, the grave; but
they have left the memory of deeds, on
which a nation can bnild a proud his
tory. McPherson, Harker, McCook,
and others dear to- us all, are now the
binding links in our minds that should
attach more closely together the living,
who have to -complete the task which
still lays before us in the dim future.
I ask all to continue as they have so
well begun,1 the cultivation of the sol
dierly virtues that have ennobled our
own and other countries. Courage,
patience, obedience to the laws and
constituted authorities of our GoA^ern-
ment ; fidelity to. our trusts and good
feeling among each other; each trying
to excel the other in the presence of
those high qualities, and it will then
require no prophet to foretell that our
country will in time emerge from this
war, purified by the fires of war, and
worthy its great founder, Washington."
Now ensued another characteristic
correspondence of Sherman, with the
Confederate Gen. Hood and the Mayor
of Atlanta. It was necessary to hold
the city which was to become the start
ing-point of a new and decisive move
ment, and it was Sherman's design to
make it strictly a military post. This
involved the removal of the citizens
who remained in it, for there was no
means of support left them there, and,
judging by past experience, it was
difficult or impossible to prevent them
from communicating with the enemy

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

519

without. It was the heart of a hostile
country and strict military precaution
was the only rule. Sherman accord
ingly proposed a ten days' truce to the
Confederate Gen. Hood for the removal.
Hood accepted, but denounced loudly
the "studied and ungenerous cruelty
of the act," protesting against it, " in
the name of the God of humanity."
Sherman replied by instancing the simi
lar conduct of Johnson and of Hood
himself in this very campaign, retort
ing upon his adversary his view of the
iniquities of the war.
To the Mayor of the city who had
made a more courteous remonstrance
he replied at length, candidly stating
in plain language the real grounds of
the difficulty : — " I cannot discuss this
subject with you fairly, because I can
not impart to you what I propose to
do, but I assert that my military plans
make it necessary for the inhabitants to
go away, and I can only renew my offer
of services to make their exodus in any
direction as easy and as comfortable as
possible. You cannot qualify war in
harsher terms than I will. War is
cruelty, and you cannot refine it ; and
those who brought war on our countiy
deserve all the curses and maledictions
a people can pour out. I know I had
no hand in making this war, and I
know I will make more sacrifices to-day
than any of you to secure peace. But
you cannot have peace and a division
of our country. If the United States
submits to a division now, it will not
stop, but will go on till we reap the
fate of Mexico, which is eternal war.
The United States does and must assert
its authority Avherever it has power;
if it relaxes one bit to pressure it is
II.— 66

gone, and I know that such is not the
national feeling. This feeling assumes
various shapes, but always comes back
to that of Union. Once admit the
Union, once more acknowledge the au
thority of the National Government,
and instead of devoting your houses
and streets and roads to the dread uses
Of AA'ar, I, and this army, become at
once your protectors and supporters,
shielding you from danger, let it come
from what quarter it may."
When Hood, presently, in October,"
threatened Sherman's communications
with Chattanooga, the latter again took
the field in pursuit, the Confederate
General retiring before him. It was
now Hood's object, under instructions
from Richmond, to unite with other
Confederate troops in an invasion of
Tennessee, with the presumption that
Sherman would thus be withdrawn
from Atlanta. But Sherman had no
idea of being turned backward; he
kneAV his own strength, and the weak
ness of the enemy, and leaving him in
his rear, to be dealt with by General
Thomas, hastened to inflict a meditated
blow on Georgia and South Carolina,
which would demonstrate his old con
victions expressed in the letter to Grant,
which we have recited. This was his
grand march from Atlanta to Savannah,
and subsequently from Savannah to
Raleigh. By the middle of November
the army was grouped about Atlanta.
The first object of Sherman, as stated
in his report, was " to place his army
in the very heart of Georgia, interpos
ing between Macon and Augusta, and
obliging the enemy to divide his forces
to defend not only these points, but
Millen, Savannah and Charleston." The

520

WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

movement was successful. By pursuing
this central route, with various side
movements, distracting the attention of
the enemy, Savannah was captured, and
the success of the campaign was estab
lished. It was. about a month from the
time of leaving Atlanta that Savannah
surrendered. On taking possession on
the 21st of December, Sherman sent
this note to President Lincoln : " I beg
to present you, as a Christmas gift, the
city of Savannah, with one hundred
• and fifty heavy guns, and also about
twenty-five thousand bales of cotton."
Before another month had elapsed Sher
man had commenced his march through
South and North Carolina. Columbia
was taken and Charleston gained by
his strategy. The former surrendered
on the 17th of February, 1865 ; on the
12th of March the army was at Fay-
etteville, North Carolina, a battle with
Gen. Johnston's forces was fought at
Ben ton ville on the 19th, and Goldsboro
immediately occupied. Leaving his
army at that place, Sherman hastened
to City Point, on the James river, where
he had an interview with President

Lincoln and General Grant on the 27th.
The two great armies were now in
supporting distance of each other.
Two days after the meeting of the
Generals, Grant's army was in motion,
the commencement of the final moAre-
ment which ended on the 9th of April
in the surrender of Lee's army. Sher
man at the same time was pressing John
ston, who, on the 14th, proposed a
capitulation. Four days after a memo
randum or basis of agreement was
agreed upon between the two Generals
involving certain conditions of restor
ation to the Union of the rebel States
and people, which were presently set
aside for the simpler terms of military
surrender accorded by Grant to Lee.
This act substantially closed the war
for the Union. In tracing Sherman's
career we have sufficiently developed
his character; and here we close our
record, leaving him at the height of
honor and fame, to pursue his career of
usefulness in the army, happily in the or
dinary discharge of its duties, the object
of love and admiration to his country
men for his great services to the Nation.

-tyJuisFeJ tsfhi^ceu djte**kS

F>vr/i A?,-: -,ripi7i/jj PamMTig A?y cAupp/A m the pcwssivn of fie Pubfisfers
Johnson, Tty a Co., Publishers WewYbrk '
/¦'¦¦ntd a*wrdm// y uci sri/owr*;. ^ ^,,,r, It,u/l „, ,£.. jiutfh0>n. TbatrTet'eT Mm'tini

CHARLES' FRANCIS ADAMS.

The family history of Mr. Adams
has already been treated in this series
of Biographies from its remote colonial
origin through two generations, in the
revolutionary and following era, illus
trated by. the talents and Aurtues of
two Presidents of the United States.
Happily in our own day, the race, con
tinued in the direct line/ grandfather,
father and son, has for its representa
tive, a man who perpetuates the prin-
ciples'and love of liberty, the devotion
to public duty, the integrity aud can
dor characteristic of this honorable
family. Charles Francis Adams who
at this time (1867) holds the distin
guished position of Minister Plenipo
tentiary to the court of Great Britain,
was born the only: child of John
Quincy Adams, at Boston, Massachu
setts, August 18, 1807. In his infancy,
Avhen he was not two years old, his
father: having received the appoint
ment of Minister to Russia, the . child
was taken by his parents to St. Peters
burg, where he passed" six years of care
ful nurture, in the course of which he
svas taught to speak the Russian, Ger
man and French languages. During
this time his father was employed' in
diplomatic negotiations of the utmost
importance, in concert with Bayard,
Gallatin, Clay and others,- which ended-

in "securing peace to his countiy in the
termination.', of the war with England
by the treaty of Ghent at the close of
the year 1814. John Quincy Adams
then visited Paris, where he was joined
by his wife and child, who. made the
journey together from St. Petersburg
in. a private carriage, an undertaking of
no little difficulty in the troubled state
of Europe at that time. The family
then took up their residence in Lon
don, the father being appointed Uni
ted States Minister to Great Britain.
Charles Francis, a boy of eight years,
was thus, introduced to the brilliant
diplomatic , scene in which , his grand
father also had been a distinguished
actor, and which he himself, in a new
era of difficulty undreamt of in the
days of the". revolution, was. to. perform
an equally conspicuous part. Young
Adams was placed at an English, board:
ing school,' where he . had not only, it
is said, to battle with the elements of
learning, but to combat with his school
fellows, according to the time-honored
fisticuff fashion of British, boys,; in
defence of America — and bath these
contests, if we may judge of his acqui
sitions and resolution in. after, life, he
maintained with equal spirit.
On the return of his father to the Uni
ted States iml8l7, young Adams began
(581)

522

CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS.

his American career as a pupil of the
celebrated Boston Latin School, where
he studied the classics and was pre
pared for admission to Harvard College,
from which institution he graduated in
1825. His father being now President
of the United States the son passed the
next two years at Washington, return
ing to Boston in 1827 to engage in the
study of the law in the office of the
Honorable Daniel Webster. He was
admitted to. the bar in 1828, and the
following year married a daughter of
the wealthy merchant, Peter C. Brooks,
by which alliance he became related to
the Honorable Edward Everett, who
had been united to another daughter
of the eminent millionaire. Mr. Adams
had now acquired the means of influ
ence in the uninterrupted pursuit of
such- a method of public usefulness as
he might choose. His descent, and the
strongly expressed wishes of his father,
his culture and habits of mind, marked
him but for a political career. In 1830,
accordingly, he was nominated Repre
sentative from Boston to the Massachu
setts Legislature, and it was a disap
pointment to his father, it is said, that
he declined to become a candidate.
The invitation being renewed the next
year he accepted it, was elected and
served, by successive elections, for the
next three years in the House of Repre
sentatives, and for two years after in
the Senate.
Opposition to slavery was a duty
which he inherited from his father, and
the year 1848, in which President
Adams died, saw his son the candidate
of the new Free-Soil party for Vice-
President on the ticket with Martin
Van Buren as President. The men

then enlisted in support of the princi
ples of freedom proved to be in a min
ority, but from the seed sown at that
time sprang the great political party
in the duties and triumphs of which
Mr. Adams was largely to participate.
Previously to the election he edited for
several years a political daily paper in
Boston advocating the principles which
were afterwards incorporated in the
Republican creed. He had at different
times been an active writer, contrib
uting articles to the North American
Review and Christian Examiner, and
had given particular attention to the
preparation of the writings and Revo
lutionary memoirs of his family. In
1840 he published two volumes of the
Letters of his grandmother, Mrs. Abi
gail Adams, accompanied by a biogra
phical sketch from his pen, and the fol
lowing year edited a similar collection
of the Letters of John Adams addressed
to his wife. A more important literary
labor, however, occupied him for many
years, in preparing for the press and
editing the extensive series of the Dia
ries and other writings of John Adams,
to which he prefixed an elaborate bio
graphy. The Life of John Adams, the
first of the series of ten volumes in
which the works of that author are in
cluded, but the last in order of publi
cation, was given to the world by his
grandson in 1856. . It displayed close
and accurate study of historical events,
with special reference to diplomatic
questions and the political agitations in
which the elder Adams bore so promi
nent a part. It was a difficult subject,
involving great labor and wide research,
with much nice discussion of disputed
topics, and it was admitted by those

CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS.

523

best acquainted with the history of the
times that the author fairly met its re
quisitions. Of the style of this work, Avhere the
writer has the opportunity of relieving
his pen from the task of disentangling
intricate and disputed matters of de
bate, the reader may judge from one of
the concluding passages, in which the
married life of his grandparents is thus
happily presented: "John Adams,"
says he, "was happily married to a
woman whose character was singularly
fitted to develop every good point of
his — a person with a mind capable of
comprehending his, with affections
Strong enough to respond to his sensi
bility, with a sympathy equal to his
highest aspirations, and yet with flexi
bility sufficient to yield to his stronger
will without impairing her own dignity.
In this blessed relation he was per
mitted to continue for fifty-four years,
embracing far more than the whole
period of his active life ; and it is not
too much to say that to it he was in
debted not merely for the domestic
happiness which ran so like a thread
of silver through the most troubled
currents of his days, but for the steady
and unwavering support of all the high
est purposes of his career. Upon the
several occasions, Avhen his action placed
him in the most critical and difficult
positions^ when the popular voice seem
ed loud in condemning the wisdom or
the patriotism of his course, her confi
dence in his correctness seems never to
have Avavered for a moment. Not a
trace of hesitation or doubt is to be
seen in her most confidential communi
cations; on the contrary, her voice in
those cases came in to reinforce his de

termination and to urge him to perse
vere. Often she is found to have drawn
her conclusions in adArance, for several
of her letters bear on the outside the
testimony of her husband's admiration
of her sagacity. The soothing effect
this must have had upon him, when
chafed, as his temper not unfrequently
was, by the severe friction to which it
was exposed in the great struggles of
his life, may easily be conceived. An
ignoble spirit would have thrown him
into depression; a repining and dis
satisfied one would have driven him
frantic. Hers was lofty and yet cheer
ful, decided and yet gentle. Whilst
she understood the foibles of his char
acter and yielded to them enough to
maintain her proper authority, she
neA^er swerved from her admiration of
his abilities, her reliance upon the pro
foundness of his judgment and her
pride in the integrity of his life. And
if this was her state of feeling, it was
met on his part by a devotion which
never wavered and a confidence scarcely
limited by the doubt of a possibility
of error. A domestic relation like this
compensated for all that Avas painful
and afflictive in the vicissitudes of their
career, and its continuance to so late a
stage in their joint lives left to the sur
vivor little further to wish for in this
world beyond the hope of a reunion in
the next."
In 1859 Mr. Adams was elected a
member of the national House of Re
presentatives, and took his seat at the
opening of the 36th Congress, at its
first session, in December, 1860. His
course in the debates on the now press
ing question of the preservation of the
Union was firm but conciliatory. Never

524

CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS.

disposed to yield anything of principle,
he deprecated any violence of action
Avhich might disturb the harmony of the
country, or increase the irritation al
ready existing in certain quarters. Of
this his speech on the State of the
Union, delivered in the House on the
last day of January, 1861, when the
report of the committee of thirty -three,
of which he was a member, to which
the portions of President Buchanan's
message, relating " to the present per
ilous condition of the country " was re
ferred, was under discussion, is a wit
ness. His object was to remove the
complaints of the disaffected, by show
ing that they were without real foun
dation. " My notion," said he, " of the
duty of a public man is to watch the
growth of offences, and not to neglect,
still less to despise them. I have, there
fore, faithfully labored in my humble
way to comprehend the nature of the
discontents actually prevailing, and to
judge of the extent to which they jus
tify the resort to so violent a mode of
relief as the overthrow of a govern
ment." These discontents, he found,
he said, embraced under three heads :
the passage of laws, in some of the
free States, operating to discourage the
recovery of fugitive slaves ; the denial
of equal rights in the Territories, and
the apprehension of such an increase
of political power in the free States as
to tempt an invasion, under new forms
of the Constitution, of the right of the
slave States to manage their domestic
affairs. Proceeding to discuss these
topics of complaint he showed that the
personal liberty laws complained of
were quite inoperative, that they had
never freed a slave for the simple reason

that popular opinion was in advance of
the law, and helped the slave on his
way before he could be arrested. The
true way, he argued, to counteract the
evil complained of, was to soften the
severity of the impracticable fugitive
slave law. At any rate, to stake the
Union upon its enforcement was to risk
substance for an abstraction. As to
the denial of equal rights in the Terri
tories, that, too, he maintained was bat
tling for a theory rather than any
practical result, seeing that New Mex
ico, the most promising ground for the
experiment, after ten years of slavery
protection, and defended by the shield
of the Supreme Court, had now but
"twenty-two slaves on the surface of
over two hundred thousand square
miles of her extent ; and of these twelve
only were domiciled, the remainder
being but transient residents." In fact,
as he argued, political economy regu
lated the matter much better than any
specific statute. Slave labor was not
wanted in the Territories, and conse
quently did not find its way there.
Why contend for a privilege which was
not worth having. For the last ground
of complaint, that the Republican
party now growing stronger would
hereafter interfere Avith the right of the
States, and destroy slavery where it
existed, he showed how absurd a course
it would be to treat a suspicion as a
reality and, for a fear of a disaster, take
every means of accomplishing it
It is of interest to note the views of
so^ thoughtful an observer at such a
crisis. We may observe his moderation
of speech and his pacific temper on the
suggestion of coercion, coupled with
his firm conviction of the failure of the

CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS.

525

Southern experiment of government, if
it should be made. "Some of the
friends," said he, "with whom I act
have not hesitated, to express themselves
in favor of coercion, and they have
drawn very gloomy pictures of the fatal
consequences to the prosperity and se
curity of the whole Union that must
ensue. For my own sake, I am glad
that I do not partake so largely in these
fears. I see no obstacle to the regular
continuance of the Government in not
less than twenty States, and perhaps
more, the inhabitants of which have
not in a moment been deprived of that
peculiar practical wisdom in the man
agement of their affairs, which is the
secret of their past success. Several
new States will, before long, be ready
to take their places with us, and make
good, in part, the loss of the old ones.
The mission of furnishing a great ex
ample of free government to the nations
of the earth will still be in our hands,
impaired, I admit, but not destroyed;
and I doubt not Our power to accomp
lish it yet, in spite of the temporary
drawback. Even the problem of coer
cion will go on to solve itself without
our aid. For if the sentiment of dis
union become so far universal and per
manent in the dissatisfied States as to
show no prospect of good from resist
ance, and there be no acts of aggression
attempted on their part, I will not say
that I may not favor the idea of some
arrangement of a peaceful character,
though I do not now see the authority
under which it can be originated. The
new Confederacy can scarcely be other
than a secondary Power. It can never
be a maritime State. It will begin
with the necessity of keeping eight

millions of its population to watch four
millions, and with the duty of guard
ing, against the egress of the latter,
several thousand miles of an exposed
border, beyond which there will be no
right of reclamation. Of the ultimate
result of a similar experiment, I cannot,
in my own mind, have a moment's
doubt. At the last session I ventured
to place on record, in this House, a pre
diction by which I must abide, let the
effect of the future on my sagacity be
what it may. I have not yet seen any
reason to doubt its accuracy. I now
repeat it. The experiment will igno-
miniously fail."*
Before the experiment was fairly
tried, but not until the rapid develop
ment of events had determined the ele
ments of the conflict, Mr. Adams, who
had been reelected to the New Con
gress was summoned previously to the
meeting of that body, from this sphere
of parlimentary duty by the call of
President Lincoln, to represent the na
tion as Minister Plenipotentiary at the
Court of St. James. Accepting the ap
pointment, which was one of the first
acts of the new administration, he an
nounced his resignation of his seat in
the House of Representatives, to his
constituents in Massachusetts in a Fare
well Address, in which he reviewed the
existing state of affairs, and, in no
equivocal terms declared the position
in which he stood in regard to the great
political interests at stake. The issue
had been made in gross and voluntary
acts of rebellion by the Southern dele
gates at Montgomery ; it was no longer
a matter of choice or forbearance but

?Appendix to the Congressional Globe of 36th
Congress, p. 127.

526

CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS.

of fixed purpose and resolve with all
true patriots to resist the blow aimed
at the life of the nation, and no one saw
more clearly or entered more resolutely
upon the solemn duties imposed upon
him than the new minister to England.
" The conclusion must inevitably be,"
he said, " that the political revolution
of the last year marks a great era in
American history, second only to that
of our independence. It saved us from
the impending domination of slave-
holding absolutism. I did hope that it
might have been effected without a
convulsion. I did believe that it might
have been followed by a policy which,
while it wronged no one, Avould in the
end save even the slaveholding States
from the perils of their situation. In
these expectations it would seem, from
present appearances, that I was much
too sanguine. The desperate agitators
have precipitated the more moderate
and patriotic classes of their fellow-citi
zens into a revolution. They have
staked their all upon the maintenance of
their political supremacy as a slavehold
ing oligarchy. We cannot refuse the
issue tendered to us if we would. Their
whole action since the sixth of Novem
ber has been aggressive, insulting, trea
cherous and violent, a very natural co
rollary from the principles on which
their organization is now based. We
have no choice but to sacrifice our inde
pendence, if we consent to their demands.
The question is between our cherished
law of 1776, resting upon the rights of
man, and the old notion of Alaric, the
Goth, revived in 1860, that force may
be preceded by fraud, and that might
makes right. We are now the cham
pions of lav? and republican liberty.

Retreat is impossible, even if it Avere
to be desired. We must stand firmly
by the old faith, or be disgraced forever.
Deeply as I regret the causes which
have conspired to give the impending
struggle unnecessary elements of bit
terness, I cannot, on looking back, dis
cover how it could have been avoided,
excepting by the utter emasculation of
a free people. I must repeat that it is
with great regret I leave you in this
emergency for another field of duty. I
do so only under the belief that I may
be of more service there than here.
Whether that be so or not, however,
will after all depend much more upon
the people of the United States than
upon their agents abroad. Foreign na
tions will very naturally look with
more attention to the action of the
principals than to that of their repre
sentatives. If they see union in coun
cil and energy in action ; if they find
wisdom in deliberation and heroism in
the field — above all, if they discover a
calm determination to carry the Gov
ernment firmly through all its trials, in
steady consistency with the purposes
and policy of its founders, then Avill
follow, as the day follows the night,
their brightening sympathy, their ad
miration, their confidence, and, perhaps,
even their co-operation. So it was in
1778. So it will be ever when honest
men courageously uphold the right."
Mr. Adams arrived at London on the
13th of May, 1861, the very day on
which the royal proclamation of neu
trality, recognizing the Confederate
States as belligerents,, was signed by
the Queen — a measure pregnant with
the most unhappy consequences to the
United States, and against which the

CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS.

527

Government at Washington never
ceased to protest. Thus the influence
which the new minister might have
been expected, from his experience and
authority, to exert in behalf of his na
tion in controlling the action of a
friendly state, was anticipated by what
could not out be considered at least an
untimely decision, and one certainly
fraught with consequences prejudicial
to the interests of the United States.
From that moment Mr. Adams, during
the long four years of the civil war,
Avas employed in an unintermitted
effort to enlighten or restrain the un
toward policy of the British Cabinet
and Parliament, using every endeavor
of argument, courtesy, sober appeal or
remonstrance, to connteract the threat
ened interference of the nation to which
he • was accredited with the public
rights or domestic policy of his coun
try. The joint labors of Mr. Seward,
the Secretary of State, at Washington,
and of Mr. Adams, at London, in their
unceasing correspondence with one an
other, and negotiations with the British
Foreign Minister, Lord Russell, are re
corded at length in the ample collec
tions of " Diplomatic Correspondence,"
published under the direction of Con
gress. On every page of these transac
tions we shall find evidence of the vigi
lance and energy, the good temper and
perseverance, of the American minister.
With a sagacity which was never
abated, he saw from the beginning the
true nature of the situation. As early
as the month after his arrival he wrote
to Mr. Seward, that while the sentiment
of the British people was generally in
favor of neutrality, the American cause
could be sustained abroad only by the
n.— 67

strength with which it was asserted at
home. " Neither party," he said, "would
be so bold as to declare its sympathy
with a cause based upon the extension
of slavery, for that would at once draw
upon itself the indignation of the great
body of the people. But the develop
ment of a positive spirit in the opposite
direction will depend far more upon
the degree in which the arm of the
government enforces obedience than
upon any absolute affinity in sentiments.
Our brethren in this country, after all,
are much disposed to fall in with the
opinion of Voltaire, that ' Dieu est
toujours sur le cote des gros canons.'
General Scott and an effective block
ading squadron will be the true agents
to keep the peace abroad as well as to
conquer one at home." It is curious to
note in different pages, at intervals, the
recurrence of this opinion as the writer
notes the temporary effect of some na
tional victory or disaster, and, as the
struggle advances, . plies the British
minister with repeated bulletins of vic
tory. Nor was Mr. Adams less engaged
in vindicating the law of nations, as
precedents of great moment were being
established on the high seas. He had
in these and other matters many diffi
cult questions constantly to deal with,
and duties to his country to perform,
which demanded not merely the asser
tion of what he deemed to be right, but
a certain importunity in seeking to ob
tain it. That he performed all these in
a manner to meet the approval of his
government at home and secure the
respect of the nation to which he was
accredited, was a natural result of the
culture, disposition, and character of
the man.

SAMUEL FINLEY BREESE MORSE.

This eminent inventor of the electric
telegraph, who but for this addition to
his fame in his later years would have
been more widely known to his. country
men by his early achievements in art, was
bom of a distinguished. New England
family in Charlestown, Massachusetts,
April. 29, 1791. His name, Samuel
Finley, was derived: from his maternal
greatgrandfather, the predecessor, in
the age preceding the Revolution, of
Dr. Witherspoon, in the Presidency of
the College of New Jersey. His father,
Jedediah. Morse of Connecticut, minis
ter of the church at Charlestown, at the
tiine of his son's birth, is remembered
in the ^annals of American literature
by his pioneer labors in the department
of geography, which, remain an inter
esting study of the topography and
early material development of the na
tion, at. the close Of the last century.
Young Morse, of course, with, such^pa-
rentage received a sound elementary
education, which was developed by a
course of study at Yale College, then
under the. inspiriting government of
President Timothy Dwight He gradu
ated, at this institution in 1810. In
fluenced, by. an early taste, and doubt
less inspired by the example and suc
cess of his countryman, Benjamin West,
he was now intent upon pursuing the

(53M

profession of a painter — a resolution in
which he was. confirmed by bis ac
quaintance with Washington Allston,
then passing a short time in America
after his first animating visit to<Enrope.
It tvas natural that Morse should im
bibe the enthusiasm of so devoted an
artist, and be governed by the ideas ol
a friend whose additional ten years ol
profitably-spent life made his judgment
respected. Painting, as a means of get
ting a living, we may presume, was not
then, in the infancy of the United
States, regarded as a very profitable or
desirable pursuit by a prudent New
England clergyman; and it is to the
credit of the elder Morse that he ap
preciated his son's tastes sufficiently to
give to him his Consent and furnish him
the means for the' prosecution of the
coveted calling in a residence in Eng
land. Allston was about to return to
that country; Morse sailed with iim,
and the two friends , arrived in London
in August, 1811. A short time after,
Charles Robert Leslie,' then a youth of
seventeen, came to the great metropolis
to enter upon that pursuit of art in
which he was destined to gain fame and
fortune and the highest personal con
sideration in the best society of Eng
land. A warm friendship soon sprang
up. between him and Morse ; they took

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SAMUEL FINLEY BREESE MORSE.

529

lodgings together, and together ex
plored the world of art which lay be
fore them. The two eminent American
painters, Benjamin West, President of
the Royal Academy, and John Single
ton Copley were then in London, ap
proaching the close of their distinguish
ed career. They were of the same age,
about seventy-three ; Copley, oppressed
with infirmities, West, reaping the fruit
of his diligent labors and splendid op
portunities, still actively employed in
his studio. Morse carried letters to
both these venerable, artists. West,
ever ready to impart to his young
countrymen the lessons of his long and
successful artist's life, received him in
his accustomed friendly manner, opened
to him the doors of the British Muse
um, and cordially assisted his studies.
An incident- of this intercourse is re
lated by Dunlap, in his History of the
Arts of Design in America, which ex
hibits at once the perseverance of the
young student and something of the
humour of the venerable President :
" Morse, anxious to appear in the most
favorable light before West, had occu
pied himself for two weeks in making
a finished drawing from a small cast
of the Farnese Hercules. Mr. West,
after strict scrutiny for some minutes,
and giving the young artist many com
mendations, handed it again to him,
saying, ' Very well, sir, very well, go
on and finish it.' ' It is finished,' replied
Morse. ' Oh, no,' said Mr. West ; ' look
here, and here, and here,' pointing to
many unfinished places which had es
caped the untutored eye of the young
student No sooner were they pointed
out, however, than they were felt, and a
week longer was devoted to a more care

ful finishing of the drawing, until, full of
confidence, he again presented it to the
critical eyes of West Still more en
couraging and flattering expressions
were lavished upon the draAving ; but
on returning it, the advice Avas again
given, 'Very Avell indeed, sir; go on
and finish it.' ' Is it not finished V
asked Morse, almost discouraged. ' Not
yet,' replied West ; ' see, you have not
marked the muscle, nor the articula
tions of the finger joints.' Determined
not to be answered by the constant ' go
on and finish it ' of Mr. West, Morse
again spent diligently three or four days
touching and reviewing his drawing,
resolved if possible to elicit from his
severe critic an acknowledgment that
it was at length finished. He was not,
however, more successful than before;
the drawing was acknowledged to be
exceedingly good, very clever indeed ;
but all its praises were closed by the
repetition of the advice, ' Well, sir, go
on and finish it.' 'I cannot finish it,'
said Morse, almost in despair. ' Well,'
answered West, ' I have tried you long
enough ; now, sir, you have learned
more by this drawing than you would
have accomplished in double the time
by a dozen half-finished beginnings. It
is not numerous drawings, but the
character of one, which makes a thor
ough draughtsman. Finish one picture,
sir, and you are a painter.' "
There was also another artist in Lon
don to whom the young painters could
look for advice and assistance, the late
Charles B. King, of Rhode Island, who
had then been six years a resident of
the metropolis, diligently engaged in
his profession, and resolutely employed
in the general cultivation of his pow-

530

SAMUEL FINLEY BREESE MORSE.

ers. The advantages of such common
intimacies to our juvenile adventurers
from America, in the great, and, to a
stranger, desolate world of London life,
are hardly to be over-estimated. Leslie,
in his autobiography, has recorded his
feeling of utter loneliness on his first
arrival, and the solace of friendship by
which the sense of his desolation was
overcome. "The two years I was to
remain in London," says he, "seemed,
in prospect, an age. Mr. Morse, who
was but a year or two older than
myself, and who had been in London
but six months when I arrived, felt
very much as I did, and we agreed to
take apartments together. For some
time we painted in the same room, he
at one window and I at the other. We
drew at the Royal Academy in the even
ing, and worked at home in the day.
Our mentors were Allston and King;
nor could we have been better pro
vided : Allston, a most amiable and
polished gentleman, and a painter of
the purest taste; and King, warm
hearted, sincere, sensible, prudent and
the strictest of economists. These gen
tlemen were our seniors ; our most inti
mate associates of our own age were
some young Bostonians, students of
medicine, who were walking the hos
pitals, and attending the lectures of
Cline, Cooper and Abernethy. With
them we often encountered the tremen
dous crowds that besieged the doors of
Covent Garden Theatre when John
Kemble and Mrs. Siddons played. It
was the last season in which the pub
lic were to be gratified with the per
formance of the greatest actress that
ever trod the stage, and. we practised
the closest economy that we might

afford the expense of seeing her often."
After the death of his wife, Allston
joined Morse and Leslie in hiring apart
ments at their residence, long a favor
ite with artists, at No. 8 Buckingham
Place, Fitzroy Square.
So Morse and Leslie began their
career in London. The first portraits
which they painted, says Dunlap, were
of each other in fancy costume, Morse
being represented in old Scottish dress,
"with black-plumed bonnet and tar
tan plaid," Leslie in the garb of a
Spanish cavalier, with " Vandyke ruff,
black cloak and slashed sleeves." The
two friends, however, had more serious
work before them, and resolutely set
themselves to perform it. They were
at this time intent on the grand and
colossal, and both appear to have been
engaged on paintings of Hercules, while
Allston was painting his " Dead Man
restored to life by touching the bones
of Elijah." Morse chose for his sub
ject the dying Hercules, and following
the precept and example of Allston,
first modeled the figure with such suc
cess as to gain the admiration of West,
and afterwards receive for the work the
prize in sculpture of a gold medal from
the London Society of Arts. He painted
the picture from the model, and sent it
to the Royal Academy Exhibition, at
Somerset House, in the spring of 1813,
to which Leslie also contributed a pic
ture, entitled, "Murder," suggested by
a passage in the second act of Macbeth.
The pictures of both artists were hung
in excellent positions on the gallery
walls, and were favorably noticed in
the newspapers of the day. This suc
cess encouraged Morse to contend for
the premium offered by the Academy,

SAMUEL FINLEY BREESE MORSE.

531

the folloAving year, for the best historical
composition on the pretty mythological
subject of " The ' Judgment of Jupiter
in the case of Apollo, Marpessa and
Idas." He completed the picture, but
was unable to present it in consequence
of his unavoidable return to America,
and his consequent inability to meet
the requisition of the Academy, which
required personal attendance of the
successful artist at the delivery of the
prize. West wished him to remain,
and afterwards said that if he had done
so, and entered into the competition, he
would have gained the reward, a gold
medal and fifty guineas. Morse carried
this picture with him to America, in
the summer of 1815, and set it up in
his studio at Boston, where he now
established himself. There was but a
poor market for works of art in the
countiy at that time. The artist found
no purchaser for his prize picture, and
eventually bestowed it upon a friend
and patron, Mr. John A. Allston, of
South Carolina, Avhere Morse found his
first real encouragement in the United
States. Driven from Boston by want
of support in that city, he went to New
Hampshire, and for a time painted por
traits at fifteen 'dollars a head, a rate
which secured him plenty of employ
ment, and at least kept him from star
vation. From New Hampshire he was
ind/uced to go to Charleston, South
Carolina, where his prospects were
much improved, and the price of his
portraits raised to sixty dollars, with a
long list of orders. This success gave
him the means of returning to New
Hampshire to marry a lady to whom
he had been for some time engaged,
and for four years he spent his winters

regularly, and with profit, in the south
ern city. He then made his home for
a while in New Haven, and was en
gaged in painting a large picture of the
interior of the House of Representa
tives at Washington, with portraits of
the members. From New Haven he
removed to New York and was em
ployed by the corporation of the city
in painting a full length portrait of
General Lafayette, who was then, in
1824, visiting the United States
Shortly after this, in the autumn of
1825, Mr. Morse was instrumental in
forming an association of artists, "a
Society for Improvement in Drawing,"
out of which grew the National Acad^
emy of Design, of which he Avas elected
first President. The object of this in
stitution was not merely to furnish to
the public an annual exhibition of the
works of living painters and sculptors,
but to unite artists in a liberal and
comprehensive society, for their com
mon support and protection ; to educate
students, and advance the knowledge
of art in the community by every prac
tical resource. In aid of these objects,
Mr. Morse, who had already delivered
a series of lectures on the Fine Arts
before the New York Athenaeum, re
peated the course before the students
and members of the new Academy. He
also delivered an elaborate discourse,
in which he reviewed the history ot
similar institutions in Europe, on the
first anniversary of the Academy in
1827. In consequence of the collision
of the new association with a former
society, "The Academy of Arts," which
it superseded, there was much public
controversy attending the early move
ments of the Academy, in which, as

532

SAMUEL FINLEY BREESE MORSE.

well as in removing various prejudices
which were in the way of the enter
prise, the pen of Morse was frequently
employed. In 1829 Mr. Morse revisited England
and extended his tour to the Continent,
residing some time in France and Italy,
and employing himself not only in ori
ginal works, but in masterly copies of
the old masters. On his return voyage
to America, in 1832, an incident oc
curred which determined his devotion
to a new field of scientific labor in his
invention of the Recording Telegraph.
The circumstances, bearing upon the
great object of his life are thus related
in a recent' biographical sketch contrib
uted to Messrs. Appl-etons" ' New Cyclo
pedia :" " While a student in Yale
College, Mr. Morse had paid special at
tention to chemistry, under the instruc
tion of Professor Silliman, and to na
tural philosophy under that of Profes
sor Day; and these departments of
science, from being subordinate as a
recreation, at length became a dominant
pursuit with him. In 1826-7, Prof. J.
Freeman Dana had been a colleague
lecturer in the city of New York with
Mr. Morse at the Athenaeum, the for
mer lecturing upon electro-magnetism
and the latter upon the fine arts. They
were intimate friends, and in their con
versations the subject of electro-mag
netism was made familiar to the mind
of Morse. The electro-magnet, . on Stur
geon's principle, (the first ever shown
in the United States) was exhibited
and explained in Dana's lectures, and
at a later date, by gift of Professor
Torrey, came into Morse's possession.
Dana even then suggested by his spiral
volute coil the electro-magnet of the

present day. This was the magnet in
use when Morse returned from Europe,
and is now used in every Morse tele
graph throughout both hemispheres.
He embarked in the autumn of 1832,
at Havre, on board the packet ship
Sully, and in a casual conversation with
some of the passengers on the then re
cent discovery in France of the means
.of obtaining the electric spark from the
magnet, showing the identity or rela
tion of electricity and magnetism,
Morse's mind conceived not only the
idea of an electric telegraph, but of an
electro-magnetic and chemical record
ing telegraph, substantially and essen
tially as it now exists. The testimony
to the paternity of the idea in Morse's
mind, aud to his acts and drawings on
board the ship, is ample. His own tes
timony is corroborated by all the pas
sengers., (Avith a single exception) who
testified with him before the courts,
and was considered conclusive by the
judges, and the date of 1832 is there
fore fixed by this evidence as the date
of Morse's conception, and realization
also, so far as drawings could embody
the conception, of the telegraph system
which now bears his name. But though
thus conceived and devised as early as
1832, in the latter part of which year,
on reaching home, he made a portion
of the apparatus, yet circumstances
prevented the complete construction
of the first recording apparatus in New
York city until the year 1835; and
then it was a rude single apparatus,
sufficient, indeed, to embody the in
vention, and enable him to communi
cate from one extremity of two distant
points of a circuit of half a mile, but
not back again from the other extrem-

ity. This first instrument was shown
in successful operation to many persons
in 1835 and 1836. For the purpose
of communicating from, as well as to,
a distant point, a duplicate of his in
struments was needed, and it was not
until July, 1837, that he was able to
have one constructed to complete his
whole plan. Now he had two instru
ments, one at each terminus, and could
therefore communicate both ways •
whereas before, with one instrument,
he could signal to one terminus only
and receive no answer. Hence, early
in September, 1837, having his whole
plan thus arranged, he exhibited to
hundreds the operation of his system
at the University in New York. From
the greater publicity of this latter ex
hibition the date of Morse's invention
has erroneously been fixed in the au
tumn of 1837, whereas he has been
proved by many witnesses to have
operated successfully with the first
single instrument as early as Novem
ber, 1835. After the summer of 1837,
it was in a condition to be submitted
to the inspection of Congress, and con
sequently we find Mr. Morse in the
latter part of that year, and at the be
ginning of 1838, at Washington, ask
ing that body for aid to construct an
experimental line from Washington to
Baltimore, to show the practicability
and utility of the telegraph. Although
the invention, by its successful results
before the Congressional committees,
awakened great interest, yet from the
skepticism of many and the ridicule of
others it was doubtful whether the fa
vorable report of the committee would
command a majority of Congress in its
favor. The session of 1837-38 closed

without any result, when the inventor
repaired to England and France, hoping
to draw the attention of the European
governments to the advantages of his
invention to them, and also to secure a
just reward to himself. The result of
this visit was a refusal to grant him
letters patent in England and the ob
taining a useless orevet d' im/oention in
France, and no exclusive privilege in
his invention in any other country. He
returned home to struggle again with
scanty means for four years, not dis
couraged, but determined to interest
his countrymen in behalf of his inven
tion. The session of Congress of 1 842-3
was memorable in Morse's history
as one of persevering effort on his part,
under great disadvantages, to obtain
the aid of Congress; and his hope had
expired on the last evening of the ses
sion, when he retired late to bed pre
paratory to his return home the next
day. But in the morning — tho- morn
ing of March 4, 1843 — he was startled
with the announcement that the desired
aid of Congress had been obtained in
the midnight hour of the expiring ses
sion, and $30,000 placed at his disposal
for his experimental essay between
Washington and Baltimore. In 1844
the work was completed, and demon
strated to the world the practicability
and the utility of the Morse system of
electro-magnetic telegraphs. In the
sixteen years since its first establish
ment, its lines have gone throughout
North and parts of South America to
the extent of more than 36,500 miles.
The system is adopted in every country
of the Eastern Continent; in Europe,
exclusively on all the Continental lines
from the extreme Russian North to the

534

SAMUEL FINLEY BREESE MORSE.

Italian and Spanish South; eastward
through the Turkish empire; south
into Egypt and Northern Africa, and
through India, Australia, and parts of
China."* Services like these to the world hap
pily have not been allowed to pass un
recognized during the inventor's life
time, though any honors or rewards
bestowed upon such a benefactor must
needs bear but a small proportion to
the benefits his ingenuity has conferred
in the promotion of the material inter
est and the wealth of uations. At the
suggestion of the Emperor Louis Na
poleon, an assembly was held, composed
of representatives of the chief European
States, at which 400,000 francs were
AToted to Mr. Morse, as a reward for his
beneficent invention. Other national

* Appleton's New Cyclopaedia, Article— Morse".
1861.

honors have been conferred upon him ;
but the hourly and general use of his
brilliant invention is the best tribute
to his fame. He has had the satisfac
tion also of anticipating and keeping
pace with the extraordinary develop
ments of the telegraphic system which
now literally engage the. attention of
the world. In 1842 he laid the first
submarine line of telegraphic wire in
the harbor of New York, for which he
received at the time in acknowledg
ment the gold medal of the American
Institute; and the first suggestion of
an Atlantic Telegraph, it is said, was
made by him in a letter addressed in
August, 1843, to the Secretary of the
United States Treasury.
Mr. Morse is a resident of the City
of New York, in the winter months,
passing the summer at his country seat
on the Hudson river at Poughkeepsie.

/^k» (Aurvfc

From a. Photograph, m Ihe possession of the family.
t Johnaon.HryA CPubllaHars. New York.

VALENTINE MOTT.

The late Dr. Valentine Mott, who
for nearly half a centuiy held a dis
tinguished place in the annals of sur
gery in America, was born at Glen
Cove, Oyster Bay, Long Island, in the
State of New York, August 20, 1785.
His father, Dr. Henry Mott, also a na
tive of Long Island, who lived to be
eighty-three, was for many years en
gaged in the practice of the medical
profession in the City "of New York.
The family in Long Island were Qua
kers, and it was not until Valentine
had reached middle .life that he laid
aside altogether the customary straight
coat of the sect. His portrait, as a
young man, painted by Inman and en
graved by Durand, Avhich represents
him as he always was, of a fine personal
appearance, has a decided Quaker cos
tume. Mott was instructed in the classics
by a private teacher at Newtown, Long
Island, and at the age of nineteen en
tered Columbia College, New York, to
pursue the full course of medical studies
at that institution, while he became
practically acquainted with the duties
of the profession by his' attendance at
the office of his .relative Dr. Valentine
Seaman. He received his degree of
Doctor of Medicine in 1806, when he
visited Europe for the purpose of avail-
n.— 68

ing himself of; the ampler opportuni
ties of medical and surgical study af
forded by the hospital practice and
eminent instructors in the science in
Great Britain. He constantly, fre
quented the great hospitals in London
over which ' John Abernethy, Sir
Charles Bell, and Sir Astley Cooper
presided, and received particular in
structions from the last mentioned, in
anatomy and Surgery; while he was
assisted in his medical attainments by
Currie and Haighton. He also enjoyed
during his residence of about two
years abroad, the advantages of a
course of study in the University of
Edinburgh, where, in addition to at
tendance in the medical school then
illustrated by the eminent Gregory, he
listened to the lectures of Hope, Play-
fair, and Dugald Stewart in physics and
philosophy. ' Returning to New York in 1809,
with the prestige of his foreign ac
quisitions and a good repute already
acquired for practical skill in his surgi
cal operations, Dr. Mott was immediate
ly appointed Professor of Surgery in
Columbia College ; and Avhen, after four
years, that medical school was merged
in the College of Physicians and Sur
geons, he still continued his professor
ship in the latter institution, and so
(535)

536

VALENTINE MOTT.

held it till 1826. Difficulties having
then arisen as to the management of
the college, he resigned, and Avith his
friends, Doctors Hosack, Mitchell,
Francis, and others, established the
short-lived Rutgers' Medical College,
Avhich was broken Up in 1830. Subse
quently to this period, he continued
through a long career his lectures in
the College of Physicians and Surgeons,
and. before the University, Medical Col
lege, as Professor of Surgery and Rela
tive Anatomy. Dr. Mott, early in life,
gained a high reputation in his general
practice and for his boldness and suc
cess in the performance of difficult
original operations. An examination
of the latter is given by his pupil and
biographer, Dr. Samuel W. Francis, to
whose happily-executed memoir we are
greatly indebted for the materials of
the present notice. " As early as the
year 1818," says this Writer, "when
but. thirty-three years of age, he placed
a ligature around the bracheo-cephalic
trunk or arteria innominata, only two
inches from the heart, for aneurism of
the right subclavian artery, for the first
time in the history of surgery. The
patient survived the operation twenty-
eight days, thereby indicating the feasi
bility of so hazardous and unparalleled
an undertaking. What is most remark
able to the practitioner, seemingly in
consistent with the laws of circulation,
is the discovery made by the operator ;
for Professor Mott states that though
all apparent supply of blood-vessels
was cut off from the right arm, pulsar
tion could be distinctly felt in the radial
artery, and the limb in no way present
ed the slightest evidence of sphacela
tion. On the twenty-fifth day, how

ever, secondary hemorrhage haATiug
taken place, the life of the patient was
speedily terminated. It 'certainly is
alone worthy, of proclaiming Dr. Mott
the Napoleon of surgery. This oper
ation was successfully performed by
Dr. A. Smyth in New Orleans in July,
1864. The patient entirely recovered,
and thereby effectually proved the
feasibility of this great undertaking
forty-six years after the experiment
had been made. In speaking of this,
to him most cordial news, Dr. Mott
said to me : ' My son, I can now die
happy.' " In the year 1828 he exsected the
entire right clavicle for malignant dis
ease of that bone, where it was neces
sary to apply forty ligatures, expose
the pleura, and look for arteries dis
placed to an almost incredible degree
by the abnormal growth of a cancerous
tumor. In discussing this operation,
Dr. Mott himself asserts that it is the
most dangerous and difficult that can
be performed upon the human body.
Though many surgeons, possessed of
the most ungenerous impulses, have
sought to rob him of this his Waterloo
operation, a priority of thirty years is
sufficient evidence in favor of his pre
eminence. The patient is still living
and enjoys perfect health, being able
to perform in the most satisfactory
manner the part of a pastor. Dr. Mott
was the first to tie successfully the
primitive iliac artery for aneurism. He
has tied the common carotid artery
forty-six times ; cut for stone one hun
dred and sixty-five times, and amputa
ted nearly one thousand limbs. He
early introduced his original operation
for immobility of the lower jaw, in 18 22,

VALENTINE MOTT.

537

and succeeded after many eminent sur
geons had been consulted and failed.
It Avas his custom invariably to experi
ment upon the dead, body previous to
performing any grave operation upon a
living subject. In 1821 he performed
the first operation for osteosarcoma of
the lower jaw. He is the first surgeon
who removed the lower jaw for necro
sis ; and, even in his advanced age,
continued: to fulfill the duties of a lec
turer and practitioner with a vigor and
clearness as astonishing as his reputa
tion is deservedly great. Truly might
Sir Astley Cooper exclaim, 'He has
performed more of the great operations
than any man living,, or that ever did
live.'" In 1834, Dr. Mott, then suffering
under a disordered state of the nervous
system, induced by the continued and
exhaustingtoils of his profession, visited
Europe for the restoration of his im
paired health. It was thirty -five years
since he had left the old world as an
accomplished student, a period of time
which had produced many changes in
his favorite science. As he travelled
from place to place it was his pleasure
to note these developments in surgery,
and, with other medical and sanitary
observations to record the impressions
made upon his mind by the objects of
more general interest in the countries
embraced in his tour. He was absent
six years, travelling through Great Brit
ain, Central Europe, Greece, Egypt and
Turkey, and on his return published in
New York, in 1842, a volume, descrip
tive of his journey, entitled "Travels
in Europe and the East." With some
peculiarities of expression it is an in
teresting work, exhibiting, as it does,

not merely the tastes and disposition
of the writer in a marked degree, but
much of permanent value regarding the
antiquities and other associations of the
lands which he visited.
Dr. Mott had, at the outset, a char
acteristic interview in London with his
former preceptor, Sir Astley Cooper,
then approaching the end of his dis
tinguished career, at the advanced age
of sixty-eight. To test the recollection
of his old friend, Dr. Mott presented
himself, as a patient, in his ante-cham
ber on a morning when he receiAred
visitors for consultation. Quietly wait
ing his turn, he was in regular order
approached by Sir Astley, when the
latter, after a moment's hesitation,
called him by name. A hearty inter
view then ensued, in which Sir Astley
had the satisfaction to promise his
friend a full restoration to health by
the relaxation of travel which he con
templated; — "and the judgment of this
truly eminent man was in this," adds
Mott in his narration, " as in so many
other cases, verified to the letter."
After visiting the great London hos
pitals, where he found many improve
ments for the condition of the sick, Dr.
Mott journeyed to Scotland, where he
found the venerable . Professor of Sur
gery, John Thompson, Professor Hope
and other instructors of his youth, forty
years before, still living. After paying
his attentions to the Old University
and its faculty, Dr. Mott visited Ab-
botsford, Melrose and Dryburgh, with
a genuine enthusiasm for the memory
of the recently departed Sir Walter
Scott. Paris,- always the home of medical
and surgical skill, of course furnished

5:38

VALENTINE MOTT.

much to gratify the attention of our
pilgrim. He saw and conversed with
Roux, Velpeau, Lisfranc, and records an
interesting interview with the famous
surgeon of Napoleon's wars, Baron
Larrey.~ "At the age of almost four
score," he writes, "this veteran in sur
gery, having surATived a hundred cam
paigns, reposes upon his laurels in his
favorite capital. Did ever any man, in
ancient or modern times, witness the
one-tenth or one-hundredth part of the
bloody scenes of battle that he has
participated in? What surgeon has
ever looked upon and been in the
midst of such awful carnage ?" From
the burning sands of Egypt to the
frozen snows of Russia, and the final
close of the drama at Waterloo, he was
ever by the side of his beloved chief
tain. He told me on one occassion — for
I may with pride say that I enjoyed
the intimacy of that great surgeon,
whom Napoleon, in his will and else
where, often spoke of as ' the best of
men ' — that for twenty years of his
life he slept, it may be said, in the
same straw, and was wrapped, in the
»arne cloak with his great master. I
\Tery much question whether any man
since the days of Ambrose Pare, ever
enjoyed the confidence and esteem of
the whole army as much as Larrey.
This I myself have Avitnessed again and
again in his walks through the hospital
of the celebrated Invalides at Paris, of
which he was surgeon-in-chief. It was
delightful to behold the almost religious
veneration with which his old com
panions in arms received and welcomed
him as he passed from bed to bed.
The eyes of these decrepit Avarriors
would glisten with joy at his approach ;

and, if sad from suffering, he would
cheer their drooping spirits by recount
ing- to them some memorable victory
in which they had both participated.
I have heard him sound in their ears
the magic words, Lodil Marengo!
and Austerlitz! and Mount Tabor!
and the effect was electric and wonder
ful. It was like the neighing of the
war-horse at the sound of the trumpet.
Can this be wondered at, when they
saw in the person of Larrey the very
form and figure — ' the counterfeit pres
entment ' — of their great captain ; and
when they saw and knew, too, that the
favorite trv-cornered chapeau which
Larrey wore on his head as he walked
from ward to ward, was that identical
hat, made for and worn by Napoleon
himself, and by him presented to Lar
rey, because, as Napoleon delicately re
marked, ' it seemed to fit him best' "
To this Dr. Mott adds an anecdote of
Larrey, illustrative of his strong per
sonal resemblance to Napoleon. The
incident occurred at the battle of Wa
terloo. Dr. Mott, having turned the
conversation to that engagement, Lar
rey related, " that on the night of the
third day, when all was over, and
while absorbed in attendance upon the
wounded, in the confusion and dark
ness of the night, alike assiduous as he
was to friends and enemies, two English
soldiers espied him by the glimmering
light of the night-lamps, and cried out,
'Here's Napoleon!' They seized him
immediately, believing that they had
captured the Emperor. They treated
him roughly, and dragged him over the
ground, by which he was wounded in
the forehead and bl-;d much, his long
black locks, as he f.lways wears them

VALENTINE MOTT.

539

(so peculiar and well-known), matting
in disheveled masses on his face. The
brutal soldiers, intoxicated with their
supposed prize, and maddened Avith
victory, declared they would kill him.
An English officer, passing by at this
moment, accosted them, and hearing
their story that they had taken Napo
leon, instantly recognized the person of
Baron Larrey, and directed them to
release him immediately. But for this,
the Baron told me, his life would have
been sacrificed."
From France, Mott passed to Bel
gium and Holland, where, at Leyden,
he paid due respect to the memory of
Boerhaave; thence to Prussia, resting
at Halle to admire the anatomical mu
seum of the Meckels ; through Austria
and Switzerland to Italy, where a new
source of interest awaited him in the re
mains of classical antiquity. Judging
by the space occupied in his book in
the recital of his investigations both in
this country and Greece, he appears to
haA^e been particularly attracted to
these associations of the past. At
Rome, on his visit to Herculaneum
and Pompeii, and especially at Athens,
he studied the ruins with care and en
tered heartily into their appreciation.
One passage of his record of these
things in Greece is peculiarly charac
teristic of the humor of a professional
traveller. It is that in which Dr. Mott
gives an account, in his visit to the
Morea, of his sacrifice, in the theatre at
Epidaurus, of a black cock to the manes
of Esculapius, the mythical medical
genius of the place. The story, very
pleasantly narrated, must be given in
his own words : "As a traveller and
humble representative," he writes, " of

my profession from a new world, a terra
incognita to him who has rendered this
spot so illustrious and enduring in re
nown, I felt it my duty to make a pro
pitiatory sacrifice to his revered mem
ory, and name, and to his wide-spread
reputation as the ruling deity of our
invaluable art. Having directed my
senrant, before leaving Napoli, to pro
vide for me one of the tutelary em
blems of Esculapius, the barnyard cock,
of glossy black plumage, I now as
sembled my companions in the arena
of the theatre to listen to a Grecian
clinique by an American surgeon, and
to witness the performance of a surgi
cal operation which, I may venture to
say, never before had been performed
in this ancient land, even by Escula
pius himself or either of his gifted sons.
The victim designated for this honora
ble sacrifice having been transported
from Napoli on one of the baggage
horses, I requested my servant to intro
duce him into the arena. After a suit-
able exordium, setting forth the nature
and gravity of the case, the solemnity
and sacredness of the place, and the
difficulty and importance of the opera
tion about to be performed, I com
menced, scalpel in hand, previously and
properly denuding the neck of the
feathers, to lay bare the common car
otid artery of one side, the patient
being firmly held upon one of the seats
of the theatre, now again, after the
lapse of three thousand years, to be de
voted to anatomical and surgical uses.
With the able assistance of my excel
lent friend and companion, Dr. Jack
son, of New York, after having laid
bare the important vessel, and with
proper caution separated it from the

5-10

VALENTINE MOTT.

deep jugular vein and parvagum, I in
troduced carefully underneath it, by
means of a curved-eyed probe, a silk
ligature, and then tied the artery. After
waiting a few moments, and finding
that the animal, so far from experiencing
any inconvenience from this modern
and dangerous operation, submitted to
it with a grace and heroic resolution
befitting the distinguished honor con
ferred upon him, Ave concluded, upon
consultation, to tie the carotid of the
other side, which was also done in a
similar manner. I remarked to the
pupils present at this Greco-chirurgical
clinique, that this was the twentieth
time I had tied this important vessel,
having performed it nineteen times on
the living human subject in my native
country. It is a coincidence not im
proper, perhaps, to mention, that short
ly before leaving my own country the
last time, I tied the carotid with suc
cess on a young man who, about a year
before, had had the same artery tied on
the other side, making, perhaps, the
second remarkable instance of a human
being recovering after both these great
arteries had been successfully secured;
"Though we found our feathered
patient also had apparently sustained
no serious injury, we deemed it suit
able to the occasion to make a farther
and more solemn sacrifice by dividing
the spinal marrow of the intrepid chan
ticleer, and thereby terminating his
martyrdom, and giving a brilliant finale
to our ceremonies by offering up his
whole life to the god. of physic. The
body was then transferred to one of
the baggage-horses, and carried Avith
us to Athens, where we arrived two
days after. And, to complete the fun

eral rites, we there devoted his remains
to the cause of gastronomy, by having
them served up to us in an excellent
supper under the walls of the Par
thenon ; flattering ourselves at the same
time with the consoling idea, that
among the gorgeous array of canonized
deities, heroes, kings, generals, orators
and poets, whose statues once adorned
every summit and quarter of this proud
city ; she who was the tutelary goddess
of Athens, Minerva, the protectress of
science, and especially that form of this
deity called Minerva-Hygeia, so named
after a daughter of Esculapius, was
looking down from the Acropolis witli
smiling approbation at this convivial
result of our labors in honor of her
renowned father. The last finishing-
stroke was to secure from the wreck of
the roasted victim an os hyoides, com
monly called the merry thought, for my
museum in America."
Dr. Mott having, as Sir Astley Cooper
predicted, fully recovered his health by
his prolonged residence abroad, on his
return to his home at New York re
sumed the active duties of his profes
sion, both as a physician and surgeon
in private practice, and as a clinical
lecturer at the hospital. A volume of
reports of his " Surgical Clinics " in the
University Medical College, of New
York, in the session 1859-60, appeared
from the pen of his pupil, Dr. Samuel
W. Francis, in 1860. The same year
Dr. Mott delivered an address before
the graduating class of the College,
which was published. It was an un
affected production, written with much
good feeling and a certain simplicity,
as the speaker gave to his young friends
the results of his observation and ex-

VALENTINE MOTT.

541

perience of the character and duties of
the medical practitioner. One of his
points illustrates the regard which he
always had to a punctilious neatness of
dress, as the expression and outward
indication to the world of a well-regu
lated mind, disposed to maintain in
every way the proprieties of life." After !
noticing the weightier points of honor:
to be maintained in the. medical profes-;
sions, I devote, says he, "a passing
notice to that just and common-place
subject, — dress. We may consider the
outward garb a ' mere matter of form.'
If your mind has been cultivated by a
liberal education, so that it differs from
that of the day laborer, society will
deem it proper that such difference
should be designated by a correspond
ing exterior — that the Volume should
be bound and labeled in a style appro
priate to its contents. I do not recom
mend yOu to assume the big wig and
gold-headed cane of former times ; nor
that you should follow the frivolous I
fashions of the day to the extremes to i
which , they often go ; but I Would have
the representatives of our ancient and
noble profession, wherever he. may re
side, always to respect himself and his
calling sufficiently, not only to possess
the interior, but also to present to the
public the exterior of a gentleman. If
you should be commencing business in
a neAV place, this will be particularly
important ; for, in the absence: 5f any
other knowledge of a man's character,
the public can only judge him by his
personal appearance. A proper com
pliance with the requirements of popu
lar opinion in this respect, will also be
of essential service to yourself in faeil- !
itating the acquirement of that ease

and composure of manner, under all
circumstances, however trying, so char
acteristic of the well-bred gentleman,
and which so peculiarly designates the
accomplished physician, and surgeon.
If your means are such as to make it im
proper or inexpedient to use expensive
apparel, you can at least take care that
your dress is always, whatever may be
its quality, clean and whole : —
'E'en from the body's purity, the mind
Receives a' secret sympathetic aid.' "
In 1849, Dr. Mott was elected Presi
dent of the New York Academy of
Medicine, and on occasion of his in
duction in that office was welcomed by
an address from the retiring President,
Dr. John W. Erancis. Subsequently
in ,1861, on the death of Dr. Francis,
Dr. Mott delivered a eulogy or dis
course oh the life and character of that
friend and companion, during the whole
period of his professionalcareer. " Pro
vidence," says he in his address, which
was marked by a peculiar fervor and
eloquence, " has Seen, fit to order, that I,
who more than: fifty years ago saw him
rise from the position of a devoted and
industrious student, to that of a popu
lar teacher of medical science, and then
successively become an eminent phy
sician, an illustrious professor, a leading
savant and a controlling spirit: in the
ranks of our divine profession ; — that I
should also have remained to behold
the close of his career and to pronounce
this night his eulogy. It has been
mine to see the dawn of his professional
life; to see his sun rise in the purple
chambers Of the East, rejoicing like a
strong man to run a race ; to witness
the meridian of his glory ; to experi-

542

VALENTINE MOTT.

en^e the milder radiance of his afternoon
splendor; and to be present at his
beautiful and tinted sunset — tinted we
may say, for during his last hours the
light of his brilliant intellect fell upon
us, not clear and cold and dazzling and
blinding, as it sometimes did in the
earlier rationalistic period of his life ;
but mellowed and subdued, and split
into a thousand crimson streams by a
living faith in our holy Redeemer,
whose blessed name was present on
his dying lips. The lives of Dr. Francis
and myself, as is well known, have run
parallel and over the same ground for
more than the period usually allotted
to man, and our mutual friendship has
been life-long and close ; as tender, I
believe, during the last years, as when
more than a quarter of a century ago
he called his son by the name of his
friend. Together, O companion of my
youth ! we saw this city pass from its
former simplicity to its present gran
deur — together we saw the Avhite-
winged sailing vessels in the bay super
seded by steamers that walked upon
the waters, pillars of clouds by day
and fire by night — together we saw
these steamers succeeded by locomo
tives, compared to the speed of whose
flight 'the tempest itself lagged be
hind ;' and together we saw those iron
chargers succeeded by a telegraph,
whose ethereal messengers outstrip the
very arrows of light. Together we
had journeyed up the hill of life —
together we had enjoyed the prospect
from the summit, and together we had
commenced to descend.
" ' But where the path we walked began
To slant to its autumnal slope,
As we descended, following Hope,
There sat the shadow feared of man.

" ' Who broke our fair companionship,
And spread his mantle, dark and cold,
And wrapped ihee formless in its fold,
And dulled the murmur on thy lip ;
" ' And bore thee where I could not see
Nor follow, though I walked in haste
And think, that somewhere in the waste
That shadow sits and waits for me.' "
Dr. Mott was chosen President of the
Binghamton (New York) State Inebri
ate Asylum, an institution founded in
1858, before which he delivered an
address, which has been printed. A
list of his published surgical papers,
giving an account of various opera
tions, will be found in the memoir by
Dr, Francis, already cited, to which we
are further indebted for the following
account of the closing scenes of the
life, of which he has given a highly
characteristic account. "As regards
his general health," says Dr. Francis,
" Professor Mott enjoyed more than the
apportioned share of man. Well and
strong, with a good appetite, as a boy,
he developed into a finely proportioned
man, and with the exception of occa
sional weakness, the result of an over
taxed constitution, his days of illness
have beefi. few. During the last six
years, however, gastric neuralgia and
angina pectoris proved the source of
much suffering of a most distressing
nature. But a careful diet and freedom
from excitement preserved unto us for
years, one whom it was a pleasure to
love, honor, and respect. Married in
early life, and surrounded by a numer
ous family, Dr. Mott has been amply
qualified to appreciate the influences of
the domestic circle. And now but one
more fact remains to be brought forth.
Dr. Mott was a Christian, and believed
in the regenerating influences of a

VALENTINE MOTT.

543

Saviour's death. It was his firm con
viction that to grow old gracefully one
must be religious. I have been in
formed by Dr. Mott's immediate family
that he never recovered from the sud
den intelligence of President Lincoln's
base assassination. His barber, while
shaving him on the morning of the
15th April, told the sad story to him;
Avhen he immediately sought his wife,
in an adjoining apartment, exclaiming :
' Mv dear, I have received such a shock,
President Lincoln has been murdered '
— and sitting down with a countenance
deadly pale, he looked up in great pain,
and said feebly, ' Oh, my back.' From
this time he gradually subsided, as it
were, but was not materially affected
till about Saturday night, when' he
complained of great pain in his left
leg. Every attention that a devoted
and appreciative family could pay him
was bestowed. Dr. Austin Flint was
called in, in accordance with Dr. Mott's
wishes, and subsequently in consulta
tion with Drs. A. H. Stevens, Joseph
M. Smith, and Vanderpool, quinine,
tonics, nouiishment, and every suitable
remedy were administered. His zeal
ous son Alexander, however, watched
with gloomy forebodings the progress
of the disease, a typhomalarial fever,

and gangrene of the left leg, resulting
from occlusion of the arteries of that
lower extremity ; and at length, Wed
nesday night April 26, 1865, at twenty
minutes past ten, he expired. 'My
daughter' were the last words uttered
by the dear doctor. They were ad
dressed to Mrs. Isaac Bell. And even
when sitting at the foot of his death
bed, while nature and disease were
battling for the mastery, though he
was unconscious of surroundings at
the time, I could not but observe the
benignity of his countenance, and look
with the fondest love and admiration
on the peaceful exit of a noble man."
Dr. Mott left behind him, as a me
morial of his labors and studies one of
the most extensive and valuable muse
ums of relative anatomy — the occupa
tion of his entire professional life —
ever brought together by a private
individual. Unhappily this vast col
lection, on the eve of being deposited
in a suitable locality, was utterly de
stroyed by fire in the disastrous confla
gration in New York, in May, 1866,
which, beginning in the Academy of
Music, spread to the adjoining Medical
College, where the Museum was tem
porarily placed.

n.— 60

GEORGE STONEMAN;

Tuts distil guished cavalry iofficer of
the late war for the preservation of the
Union is a native of the State of New
York. He.was:bOrn at Busti, Chautau-
que county, August 8, 1822. His fa
ther was. a farmer who settled in the
western part of the State shortly after
the war of 1.812. George, the subject
of this notice, ' entered West Point as a
- cadet at theage of twenty, and graduated
in;due course at. the institution in 1864,
in. the same class with M'Clellan,
"Stonewall"; Jackson: (who Avas his
room-mate), Foster, Reno and Couch,
all celebrities of the recent war. StOne-
man entered the service brevet second
lieutenant in the l.st Dragoons, which
was thenion duty atFortLeavenworth.
He was put in charge, it is said, "of the
..first wagon train sent from that post to
. Santa. Fe,- over, what, was then called
the Santa F6 trail. The animals nearly
all gave out for want of grass and wa
ter, and Lieutenant Stoneman deter
mined to go on ahead to Santa Fe and
procure fresh ones. Taking with him
one man, he made the journey of two
hundred and sixty miles, through a
country inhabited by hostile Indians
and still more hostile Mexicans, in four
days; obtained the animals, returned
to his companions, and brought the
train through in safety."* He. after-
* Prank Moore's " Portrait Gallery of the War."

wards joined his regiment at San Diego,
California, and was engaged on duty for
six years on the Pacific coast He tra
velled, in 1854, through Mexico and the
West Indies, and was . the same year
promoted first, lieutenant He was, in
1855, aide-de-camp to. General, Wool,
then in command of the Department of
the Pacific, and at the close of the year
was promoted Captain in Colonel Albert
Sidney Johnston's 2nd . Dragoons, and
joined the regiment at Jefferson Bar
racks, Missouri. The regiment was
shortly.after sent to Texas, where, and
in New Mexico, with the exception of
a year and a half spent in European
travel, Captain Stoneman was on duty
till the outbreak of the. Rebellion in
1861. That event exposed him to
peculiar difficulties: from which he ex
tricated himself with patriotic firmness
and resolution. He was in command
at, Fort Brown at the time, and General
Twiggs, who was in charge of the De
partment and in league with the Rebel
lion, required his surrender of the go
vernment property. This Stoneman
refused, and as the withdrawal of the
United States troops had been already
determined upon, without perilling the
situation farther in Avaiting for the
arrival of United States transports,
chartered a steamer, evacuated the fort,
and sailed for the North.

(541)

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VafCer^rM, 4)1S&S br Joh*4&.f>?.& .la uitA..^r<t .,l?u* . ¦¦-'tA.-j'zt

GEOEGE STONEMAN

545

In May, Captain Stoneman was pro
moted major in the 4th Regular Cavalry
and was attached to the Staff of General
M'Clellan, in western Virginia, as Acting
Inspector General. In the new army
appointments in August he was commis
sioned Brigadier G eneral of Volunteers,
and in the army of the Potomac held
the position of Chief of Cavalry, involv
ing difficult and important duties in
the efficient performance of which, " he
encountered and overcame, as far as it
was possible, continual and vexatious
obstacles arising from the great defici
ency Of cavalry arms and equipments,
and the entire inefficiency of many of
the regimental officers first appointed."*
General Stoneman was engaged in these
duties till the army was transferred to
the peninsula in the spring of 18'62,
when, still holding the position of Chief
of Cavalry, as soon as that branch of
service could be made available, imme
diately upon the fall of Yorktown, he
was sent by General M'Clellan with all
the available cavalry force and four
batteries of horse artillery in pursuit of
the retreating enemy on the Williams
burg road. He shortly encountered
the enemy at their advantageous line of
defence in the chain of redoubts con
necting with Fort Magruder, when, after
a brief trial of strength, he withdrew to
a defensive position and awaited the
arrival of General Sumner Avith the
infantry supports. After the action at
Williamsburg, General Stoneman moved
with an advanced guard of cavalry, ar
tillery, and infantry, to open communi
cation with General Franklin, who had
been sent by Avater to the right bank of

* Official Report of General M'Clellan, August 4,
1863.

the Pamunkey, in the vicinity of West
Point. In the movement to the Chick-
ahominy, Stoneman with his command
cleared the way before the advancing
column, and during the campaign before
Richmond, his force was posted on the
extreme right as a corps of observation.
In the retreat of the army to the James
river, General Stoneman's command, cut
off from the main body, retired to the
vicinity of the White House, where he
protected the embarkation of the stores
and garrison of that place, and after
wards conducted a train of cattle and
wagons to Yorktown and Fortress
Monroe. From the , latter place his men
were carried by water to M'Clellan's
new camp on the James river.
In the subsequent campaigns of Gen.
Pope in Northern Virginia, Gen. Stone
man, after the death of Gen. Kearney,
was placed in charge of that officer's
division, and succeeded to the command
of the Third Corps Avhen Gen. Heintz-
elman was placed in charge of the de
fences of Washington. He was after
wards in command of a division at
tached to the Ninth Corps previously to
returning to his old position as chief of
cavalry of the Army of the Potomac.
When Gen. Hooker, in May, 1863, ad-
vanced upon Chancellorsville, Gen.
Stoneman was sent on a cavalry raid in
advance to attack the enemy in flank
and rear and cut off his communications
with Richmond. The expedition was
skillfully conducted, inflicting great
damage on the lines of railroad, with
the destruction of large supplies. But
more important than any immediate
advantage gained was the confidence
imparted in the efficiency of a well-
directed cavalry force in penetrating

646

GEORGE STONEMAN.

the enemy's country, harassing his
forces in the field, and ultimately des
troying his military resources. Hence
forth cavalry raids on a large scale were
to be of frequent occurrence in clearing
the way for the progress of the Union
armies. In this dashing excursion
round the army of Lee, Col. Kilpatrick,
afterwards eminently distinguished in
Sherman's campaigns, became promi
nently known to the public by his
daring march in which he penetrated
the fortifications of Richmond.
In the following July Gen. Stone
man was placed in charge of the newly
organized cavalry bureau at Washing
ton. From this position he was or
dered to active duty in the west, and
on the organization of Gen. Sherman's
military division of the Mississippi, in
the spring of 1864, assigned to the com
mand of a special cavalry force. With
this he was employed during the great
' march to Atlanta, following in pursuit
of Johnston on his retreat from Resaca,
protecting the army in its advance, en
gaging with the enemy's forces at Alla
toona Pass, and, while the army was
investing Atlanta, undertaking a caval
ry raid on the enemy's communications
with Macon, the last means of supply
left the rebel army. This last was in
accordance with a well-planned scheme
of Gen. Sherman, but it was imperfectly
carried out, and its failure resulted in
the capture of Stoneman and his tem
porary imprisonment. The design and
its execution, as related by Gen. Sher
man in his official report of the cam
paign, was as follows : " Determined
to strike a blow at the Macon Road,
simultaneous with the movement of
the Army of the Tennessee towards

East Point, a few miles below Atlanta,
on the road, Gen. Sherman divided his
cavalry into two commands, assigning
one to Gen. Stoneman, including his
own and Gen. Garrard's cavalry, mak
ing an effective force of full five thou
sand men, while he placed Gen. Mc
Cook over the other, numbering about
four thousand. The two were to move
in concert, Stoneman by the left around
Atlanta to McDonough on the East,
and McCook on the right by Fayette-
ville, and were to meet on the Macon
Road, near Lovejoy's station, and des
troy it effectually. The plan was set
forth by Gen. Sherman in the presence
of the officers who were to carry it out,
and not a doubt was entertained of its
success. Gen. Sherman, indeed, was
ready to undertake even more. In
spired with the desire to perform a
deed, which, if accomplished, would
redound to the credit of the army, at
the very moment of starting he ad
dressed Gen. Sherman a note, asking
permission, after fulfilling his orders
and breaking the road, to be allowed,
with his command proper, to proceed
to Macon and Andersonville and re
lease the Union prisoners of war con
fined at those points. "There was
something," adds Sherman, " most cap
tivating in the idea, and the execution
was within the bounds of probability
of success." Sherman accordingly con
sented that after the defeat of Wheeler's
cavalry, Avhich was embraced in his
orders, and breaking the road, he might
attempt the recapture of the prisoners
with his own cavalry command, sending
that of Gen. Garrard back to the army.
Both expeditions started at the- same
time, Cooke to inflict much damage

GEOEGE STONEMAN.

547

upon the enemy in the destruction of
wagons and stores at Fayetteville, and
of the railway at Lovejoy's Station, as
appointed. Gen. Stoneman, however,
did not reach the latter place. Dis
patching Gen. Garrard's cavalry to
Flat Rock, to the southeast of Atlanta,
to cover his own movement to Mc-
Donough on his way to Lovejoy's, he
hurried off to the line of the Georgia
railroad, following it to Covington,
and thence south to the east of the Oc-
mulgee river to Clinton,' sending off de
tachments to destroy the railway and
reaching the vicinity of Macon on the
30th of July. Here, having learnt
that the Macon prisoners had been
sent to Charleston, and having aroused
the enemy in his front, he determined
to return by the route on which he
came, but he was followed by various
detachments of mounted men, and
when about twenty miles from Macon,
on the 31st, being hemmed in by the
enemy, gave orders to two of his brig
ades to make good their escape while
he held the enemy in check with the re
mainder. One of the brigades got(

through to Sherman's camp unharmed ;
the other with much difficulty and
heavy losses, and Stoneman, with his
band, was captured and carried a pris
oner of war to Macon.
In due time Gen. Stoneman was ex
changed, and had the satisfaction of
being actively employed in the closing
scenes of the war, when, in command
of a division of cavalry operating from
East Tennessee in connection with
Major-General Thomas, and in concert
with the combinations of Gens. Grant
and Sherman on the seaboard, he pen
etrated to Greensboro', North Carolina,
destroyed the railway there and else
where, thus cutting off the last hope
of retreat to the exhausted armies of
Lee and Johnston; The end crowns
the work, and Gen. Stoneman, who was
one of the foremost cavalry officers in
high command in the war, who had
showed the way and set the example
of success in this branch of the service,-
the chosen commander of McClellan
and Sherman, justlj shared in the tri
umph at the end.

WINFIELD SCOTT HANCOCK.

Geneeai. Hancock is a native of
Montgomery county, Pennsylvania. He
was bornEebruafy 14, 1824, of a good
American ancestry, his maternal great
grandfather, and his grandfather on the
paternal side, having been soldiers of
the Revolution. The latter also served
in the second war with England. His
father, Benjamin J. Hancock,is a lawyer
of Norristown, Pennsylvania. The name
of the son, Winfield Scott, which may
have been imposed in recollection of
his grandfather's participation in the
war of 1812, seemed to indicate a con
tinuance of the family traditions in his
devotion to a military career. But
whatever the force of these associations
may have been, the youth, at the age
of sixteen, in 1840, was appointed a
cadet in the Military Academy at West
Point. He graduated in 1 844, standing
eighteenth in a class of ¦Sventy-five,
when he was appointed brevet second-
lieutenant, and assigned to the Sixth
infantry regiment. He was for a time
on duty in the Indian Territory, and,
on the breaking out of the Mexican
war, was engaged with his regiment in
the march from Puebla to the capital,
under the command of General Worth.
For his gallantry at Contreras and
Churubusco, he was brevetted first-
lieutenant. He was with the army in

the capture of Mexico, and was subse
quently employed in various military
duties till the close of the war. On
his return to the United States he was
stationed for several years in Missouri,
and afterwards was in active service in
Florida, on the staff of General Harney,
whom he subsequently accompanied to
Kansas, on his projected Utah cam
paign. When this expedition was
abandoned, he was ordered to accom
pany the Sixth infantry, as quarter
master, across the continent.to Benicia.
The opening of the great rebellion of the
Southern States found him on duty at
the military post in southern California.
whence he was recalled to the East,
and appointed Chief Quartermaster to
General Anderson, in Kentucky. From
this, however, he was diverted by the
appointment of Brigadier-General of
Volunteers in the Army of the Poto
mac, then, after the battle of Bull Run,
being organized by General McClellan.
In the new distribution of forces, in
October, 1861, his brigade, in General
W. F. Smith's division, comprised the
Forty-seventh and Forty-ninth Penn
sylvania, and Forty-third New York
and Fifth Wisconsin volunteers, with
two companies of Berdan's sharp-shoot
ers. The winter was diligently em
ployed in drilling this force in the

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WINFIELD SCOTT HANCOCK.

549

vicinity of Washington, on the southern
bank of the Potomac. In the ensuing
March, in the organization of the five
Army corps, Hancock's brigade, now
comprising the Fourth Wisconsin,
Forty-ninth Pennsylvania, Forty-third
New York and Sixth Maine volunteers,
was assigned, with Smith's division, to
the Fourth Corps of General Keyes.
When McClellan transferred his army
to the peninsula between York and
James rivers, Hancock Avas with his
command in the first movements in
April, in front of Yorktown, being
notably engaged in the attempt to
penetrate the enemy's line of defence
on the Warwick river> in the action of
the 16th of April, at Lee's Mills. Upon
the evacuation of Yorktown, on the
4th of May, Smith's division Was sent
forward to support General Stoneman's
cavalry force in the pursuit of the
enemy toAvards Williamsburg, and in
the action of the 5th, Hancock's brigade
was specially selected to Occupy a series
of redoubts on the right of Fort Ma-
gruder, with the design of following
up the movement, and taking the
enemy in reverse. He took possession
of the first and second redoubts, and
called for reinforcements to advance
upon the third, the key of the position,
but General Sumner, who Avas in com
mand in the field, could place no further
troops at his disposal, and ordered bis
withdraAval from his exposed situation.
Hancock, however, held the advantage
which he had gained to the last mo
ment, till, confronted by a superior force,
he was compelled to retire. " Feigning
to retreat slowly," in the words of Gen.
McClellan's official report, " he'awaited
their onset, and then turned upon them,

and after some terrific volleys of mus
ketry, he charged them with the
bayonet, routing and dispersing their
whole force, killing, wounding and
capturing from five hundred to six hun
dred men, he himself losing only thirty
one men. This," adds Gen. McClellan,
"was one of the most brilliant engage
ments of the war, and Gen. Hancock
merits the highest praise for the sol
dierly qualities displayed, and his per
fect appreciation of the vital import
ance of his position."
In the ensuing campaign before Rich
mond, Hancock was transferred with
Smith's Division to the new Corps of
Gen. Franklin, and was actively en
gaged in the succeeding operations, clos
ing with the arduous retreat to the
James River, in June, 1862. In Au
gust ne returned with the army to
Northern Virginia, and in the subse
quent campaign of Gen. McClellan in
Maryland, in September, was distin
guished in the advance of Franklin's
Corps, in the action at Sugar Loaf
Mountain, and especially in the battle
of Antietam, where, on the fall of Gen.
Richardson, he was placed in command
of that officer's Division of Sumner's
Corpsy and rendered important services
in the subsequent movements of the
day. When the army operations were
again transferred to Virginia, he was
actively engaged with his division at
the battle of Fredericksburg, previ
ously to which he had been appointed
Major-General of Volunteers, and sub
sequently at Chancellorsville. He was
in June, 1863, appointed to the com
mand of the Second Corps. In the
battle of Gettysburg, in July, Gen.
Hancock was sent at the close of the

550

WINFIELD SCOTT HANCOCK.

first day's operation, on the death of
Gen. Reynolds, by Gen. Meade, to
represent him on the field. On his
arrival he proceeded, in conjunction
with Gen. Howard, to post troops on
the favorable position of Cemetery
Ridge ; and in the ensuing action was
placed in command of the left centre.
After rendering distinguished services
during the decisive day of battle, the
memorable third of July, he was to
wards the close of the engagement,
struck by a musket ball in the thigh ;
but, notwithstanding the severity of
the wound, he continued on the field,
directing the operations of his com
mand. Subsequently, on his recovery,
he visited the North, and addressed
various popular meetings with appeals
for new enlistments in his command,
which were handsomely responded to,
with men and money, as " it was not
difficult to obtain recruits for a corps
which, up to that time, had captured
over forty flags, and took over twenty-
five thousand men, but had never lost
a color or a gun."*
In the reorganization of the army,
in March, 1864, upon Gen. Grant being
called to the supreme command with
the rank of Lieutenant General, Gen.
Hancock retained command of the
Second Corps, one of the three con
solidated corps into which the Army
of the Potomac was then divided. At
the beginning of May, Major-General
Meade, who still, under Gen. Grant
directed the operations of the army,
announced to the troops in a general
order that the time had come Avhen
they were again called upon to advance
* Biography of Hancock. Frank Moore's "Por
trait Gallery of the War."

on the enemies of their . country. In
the initiatory movement of the Third,
Hancock's Corps followed Gregg's
Cavalry in the passage of the Rapi
dan at Ely's Ford in the advance
through the Wilderness, and in the
battle of the fifth was brought into
action in the afternoon in support of
Warren's Corps, which had borne the
brunt of the enemy's first determined
assault in the morning. The fighting,
as in all the battles of the Wilderness,
was desperate. In the general action
of the next day, the sixth, Hancock's
Corps, bore the leading part, driving
the enemy in early morning, and being
forced back after severe continuous
fighting in the afternoon. Hancock
was slightly wounded. The retreat ot
Lee to Spottsylvania Court-House now
ensned, followed by the army of Grant,
with several sharp actions on the way.
The Ninth saw the armies again con
fronted for battle, Lee's Army with a
line of breastworks at Spottsylvania,
and the Union forces investing the
position, which was well adapted for
defence. On the 10th, several assaults
were made on the enemy's works, and
there was also much indecisive fighting
the next day, when Gen. Grant sent his
memorable dispatch to Washington,
briefly noting the " very heavy fight
ing" of the week, acknowledging his
great losses, but thinking those of the
enemy might be greater and summing
up the whole with his characteristic
resolve : " I propose to fight it out on
this line if it takes all summer." The
battle was renewed with great ferocity
on the 12th; Hancock who had brought
up his corps in the night, favored by a
rain storm and the darkness, opening

WINFIELD SCOTT HANCOCK.

551

the day at dawn with a brilliant attack
on the enemy's centre. The particulars
of this action are thus narrated by a
military historian of the campaign: —
" The morning dawned enveloped in an
auspicious fog of great denseness. The
orders were given in silence. The point
of attack was a salient angle of earth
work, held by Johnston's Division of
Ewell's Corps. Silently and unseen
the corps moved upon. the unsuspecting
enemy. They passed over the rugged
and densely-Avooded space, the enthu
siasm growing at every step, until, with
a terrible charge and a storm of cheers,
they reached the enemy's Avorks, scaled
them in front and flank, surprising the
rebels at their breakfast, surrounding
them, and capturing Edward John
ston's entire division, AA'ith its general ;
two brigades of other troops with their
Commander, Brig.-Gen. George H. Stu
art, and thirty guns. The number of
prisoners taken was between three and
four thousand. It was the most de
cided success yet achieved during the
campaign. When Hancock heard that
these generals were taken, he directed
that they should be brought to him.
Offering his hand to Johnston, that
officer was so affected as to shed tears,
declaring that he would have preferred
death to captivity. He then extended
his hand to Stuart, whom he had
known before, saying, ' How are you,
Stuart?' but the rebel with great
haughtiness, replied, 'I am General
Stuart of the Confederate Army ; and,
under present circumstances I decline
to take your hand.' Hancock's cool
and dignified reply was : ' And under
any other circumstances, general, I
should not have offered it.' Hancock's
u.— 70

pencil dispatch to Grant, within an
hour after the column of attack had
been formed, was in these words : ' I
have captured from thirty to forty
guns. I have finished np Johnston,
and am going into Early.' "*
In the great flanking movements of
Gen. Grant which ensued, Hancock's
corps was steadily engaged, taking the
lead in the march by Bowling Green,
holding the position in face of the
enemy at the passage of the North
Anna river, and thence, exposed at
every turn, to the old region of the
Chickahominy. Hancock was engaged
with the enemy at Cold Harbor, on the
30th of May and the first days of Juno
From this position his corps marched
on the 12th to the James river, and
was engaged in the first operations
against Petersburg. No portion of the
army was henceforth idle, and the
Second Corps had its full share of duty
in the entrenched camp, in the move
ments upon the Weldon railroad in
June and in August, when Hancock
encountered the enemy at Reams Sta
tion, and again in October in an attack
upon the Boydton Road, to the south
west of Petersburg. In November,
Gen. Hancock was commissioned to
recruit a new corps, being succeeded in
the command of the Second by Gen.
Humphreys. Such were the services during the
war of General Hancock — "who in
bearing, personal appearance, splendid
gallantry and influence over his troops,
fully deserves the epithet which he re
ceived at Williamsburg — ' Hancock the
Superb.' "

* Grant and his Campaigns. A Military Bio
graphy by Henry Coffee, p. 313.

:.m

JAMES SAMUEL WADSWORTH.

Among the many; who fought and.
perished in the Union ranks in the war
for the preservation ot the nation, few,
in the accidentsjof birth- and fortune,
had more particular claims to regard
than Gen. Wadsworth, though these
were appeals to the admiration of his
countrymen which ' he himself would
never have urged _ot even allowed.
The period of life in which he engaged
in the war, and encountered the com
mon hardships of the field in active
service, his eminent position as a man
Of wealth, being probably the larg
est landowner in the country, together
with his ; distinguished family associ
ations, and his own enATiable social
rank, fairly entitle him to peculiar
honor in the annals of the war, united
as were these advantages with qualities
of mind ar[d heart and the consummate
honor and devotion; of the -patriot sol
dier, who'gave up all, even life itself,
in the cause of his Country. .-
James Samuel Wadsworth; was born
at; Geneseo, Livingston" county, New
York, on : the . 30tiv of October, 1807.
Both on the father's- and mother's side
his ancestry may be traced in the old
historical annals of Connecticut It is
said, we are told by one of his biogra
phers, Mr. Hoppin, "that one of his
ancestors was that sturdy Puritan,

Joseph Wadsworth, the captainiof the
train-bands, who concealed the precious
Charter which Charles II had given- to
the Colony, in the famous:.oak at Hart
ford, in defiance of the authority of the
tyrant Andross ; and who, afterwards,
when' another intruding Governor, Col.
Fletcher, of New York, attempted to
exercise illegal rule over the Connecti
cut militia, caused his drums to beat
and drown the reading of the Royal
Commission, saying to Fletcher, 'If I
am interrupted,- 1 will make the day
light shine through your body.' " On
the mother's side, Gen. Wadsworth was
of the family of Walcott, of Windsor.
His father, James Wadsworth,- of Dur
ham, Connecticut, and uncle, William
Wadsworth, emigrated from their native
State to the banks of the Genesee river,
in New York, in the year 1790, Avhere
they were at first established, as land
agents, and so profitably managed this
fertile territory, then wild and unculti
vated, that its resources were rapidly
developed, and the tract became during
their lifetime one of the most renowned
agricultural regions of the State. The
bare spot at which they settled, then
known by the rude designation, "Big
Tree," became the thriving village of
Geneseo, and there, and far around in
the district, the brothers became them

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JAMES SAMUEL WADSWORTH.

553

selves wealthy landowners, numbering
thousands of acres under their imme
diate cultivation, and a vast territory
leased- to. settlers. The Wadsworth
flats or meadows, a rich alluvial, tract
on the banks of the Genesee, early in
the present century became celebrated
for its wealth and fertility. Nor was
the material progress of the country
alone cared for by the enterprizing
brothers. James, the father of the
subject of this notice, Avas a graduate
of Yale College, an appreciator of
healthful literary influences, and de
voted himself earnestly amidst his, ris
ing community to the promotion of the
cause of education, publishing tracts on
the subject at his own expense, diffusing
information, soliciting the legislature,
endowing a library and system of lec
tures at Geneseo, and liberally setting
apart in the sales, of townships of this
large domain portions of land for the
endoAvment of a church and school in
each. At his death, in 1844, we are
told, his gifts to the cause of education
alone, had exceeded the sum of ninety
thousand dollars. So that Gen. Wads
worth, with his wealth, fairly inherited
his patriotic and liberal disposition.
Young Wadsworth was educated at
the common schools of Geneseo, was
for a short time at Hamilton College,
New York, afterwards at Harvard Col
lege, and subsequently a law student
at Yale College. He was for a while
in the law office of Daniel Webster at
Boston, and afterwards in the office of
McKeon & Deniston at Albany, New
York. He was admitted to the bar in
1833, but never engaged in the practice
of the profession, the management of
his estates affording him sufficient oc

cupation. In 1834 he was married to
a daughter of John Wharton of Phila
delphia, and after a tour to Europe
made his residence on the paternal
estate. His father, as we have stated,
died in 1844, having survived his bro
ther William, who was never married,
and the charge of the vast family pro
perty devolved upon his only son. The
latter soon became eminent for his de
votion to agriculture and for his' liber
ality in promoting the interests of his
neighborhood. Stately- crops were
gathered -from the bounteous Wads
worth meadows, and the stock which
he imported and raised became the
pride of the country. He, was acti\re
in the. circulation of agricultural litera
ture, and prominent as a member of
the Western New York Agricultural
Association, President of the Livingston
County Agricultural Society, and an
earnest co-operator in the State . Agri
cultural Fair. , His position and ser-
Aaces in the State were recognized, in
1844, by his appointment as a Regent
of the University.
Many instances are recorded of his
generosity during this period. " Very
few of the thrifty tenants upon his
farms," we are told " have not become
rich under his liberal system. When
the weevil destroyed the wheat crop for
a number of years^ he allowed his ten
ants to pay what they could without
distressing their families, and assuming
the loss himself, squared all their ac- -
counts. He did not leave them in debt
to him and wait till a good crop should
enable them to pay him, but at once
cancelled the whole demand. In all
the great calamities which have befallen
the people in different parts of the

554

JAMES SAMUEL WADSWORTH.

country, he was always a very large
contributor ; and most modest was he
in the distribution of charities, preferr
ing that no publicity be given to them.
When Ireland was suffering from
famine, he loaded a ship with food at
his own expense, and sent it over to
the sufferers."*
The position and qualities of Mr.
Wadsworth naturally drew attention
to him as a desirable candidate for
office, for which he appears to have
had no ambition till the paramount
claims of his country in her hour of
need presented a motive which he did
not resist. He declined a nomination
for Governor of New York, in 1848 ;
but in 1856, and again in 1860, acted
as Presidential Elector, as a representa
tive of the Republican party. In the
latter year he again declined a nomi
nation as candidate for Governor of his
State. At the winter session of the
Legislature he was appointed a mem
ber of the Peace Congress which sat at
Washington in February, 1861, in in
effectual deliberation on the state of
the Union, and fruitless efforts once
more to harmonize discordant elements
and prevent a resort to arms, which
was now inevitable. In these discus
sions he stood firmly against all truck
ling compromise measures. He clearly
saw the interests at stake, and uni
formly cast his vote in favor of free
dom. On the actual outbreak of war
he was foremost in hand and heart in
support of the national cause. At the
very outset, when Washington in April
was separated from communication
with the East by the insurrectionary
* Biography of Wadsworth, United States Service
Magazine, July, 18P*

movements in Maryland, seeing the
straitened condition of the small band
of Union troops sent to Annapolis in
default of Government supplies, he
hastened thither by water in charge of
two ships, which he had loaded wit»
provisions at New York, at his own
expense. This was his first gift to the
nation in defence of her liberties and
existence ; and the last was his life.
Subsequently in these early days of
the war, he was at Washington en
gaged with Gen. Scott in taking meas
ures for the defence of the Capital, and
providing for the impending active
hostilities. In May he Avas tendered
by the Governor of New York the
commission of Major-General of the
volunteer forces of the State. In June
we find him a volunteer aid on the staff
of Gen. McDowell, then preparing his
advance upon the enemy at Manassas.
In this first great engagement of the
war, the battle of Bull Run, Major
Wadsworth bore a conspicuous part.
He had a horse shot under him " in the
hottest. of the fight," and rallying the
troops in their disastrous retreat, seized
the colors of one of the regiments and
summoned the men to support "the
glorious old flag." He was all night
on the field with the rear of the army
in its retreat, "staying at Fairfax
Court-house till late in the morning,
to see that the stragglers and weary
and worn-out soldiers were not left be
hind."* In the subsequent national
organization of the volunteer forces of
the army, he was on the 9th of August,
1861, commissioned Brigadier-General.
He was assigned to a command in the
new Army of McClellan before Wash-
I * Official Report of Gen. McDowell, August 4, 1861.

JAMES SAMUEL WADSWORTH.

555

ingtori, and took part in the occupation
of Munson's Hill in September. In
the following March, 1862, he was ap
pointed military" governor of Washing
ton, and commander of the defences of
the' Capital, a position which he held
for nine months. His duties, at this
time, were of a responsible, arduous
character, involving many nice ques
tions to be adjusted between the civil
and military authorities at the Capital.
He pursued an independent course,
and, anticipating the declared policy of
the Government, invited and protected
slave refugees within his lines. On
one occasion he arrested seATeral promi
nent citizens of Virginia, and held
them as hostages for the good treat
ment of a number of Union prisoners
who were suffering at the hands of the
enemy. "While he gave the citizens
of Washington all the liberties consis
tent with public safety," we are told,
" he took vigorous measures against
traitors, spies, blockade-runners and
kidnappers. He seized the slave-pen,
discharged the captives, and perma
nently established the rule that no
negro should be taken out of the Dis
trict of Columbia, under color of the
Fugitive Slave Law, without an exami
nation on the part of the military au
thorities respecting the loyalty of the
master. He took great pains to facili
tate the change of those people from
bondage to freedom. He organized a
contraband bureau, established perma
nent quarters, taught the poor blacks
how to work for themselves, and made
the confiscated goods of the blockade
supply their wants. Amid political
and military embarrassments, he suc
ceeded in pioneering the way to practi

cal emancipation while commanding the
fortifications and twenty-four thousand
troops." On the 24th of September, 1862,
Gen. Wadsworth was, on the nomin
ation of the late William Curtis Noyes,
chosen by the Republican State Con
vention at Syracuse, New York, candi
date of the party for Governor at the
ensuing election. The news reached
him at Washington, and a day or two
after he addressed a body of citizens
who came to congratulate him on his
nomination. In this speech he fully
declared his principles without disguise
or compromise. "The earnest men,"
said he, " who have brought me forward
as their standard-bearer, are assured
that I think as they think, that I feel
as they feel on this great question.
They do not wish, they do not intend
to survive the dismemberment of their
beloved country." He did not intend,
he said, to comment on the policy of
the Government in carrying on the
war ; it was sufficient for him to know
that it was intended that it should be
prosecuted with the utmost military
energy. All the appliances of honor
able war, he asserted, will be availed
of to support the struggle and bring it
to a successful termination. " It would
be criminal folly in the Government,"
he continued, " if it had overlooked one
great element of Southern society,
which may be, and will be, as we use
it, an element of weakness or of
strength — to have overlooked or for
gotten that we are fighting against an
aristocracy supported by slavery ; and
it would have been worse than folly to
suppose that we could suppress the
rebellion and yet save that aristocracy

556

JAMES SAMUEL WADSWORTH.

A year and a half of bitter experience
has taught us that we cannot do it ;
that we should fail in our purpose if
Ave attempted it — aye, fail ignobly and
deservedly. . . . We have got to conquer
it or be conquered by, it. This struggle
is already far advanced. . It is near its
end. If we would save ourselves we
must cast off this devil who has dis
graced and dishonored us from the
hour of our birth. We want peace,
but we want a country more. We want
an honorable, a permanent, a solid
peace. When we haATe achieved that
we shall commence again a career of
prosperity — prosperity, the like of
which we have never known before
and the world has never before wit
nessed. We: shall spring, as it were by
one bound, to be the mightiest, freest
and the happiest people on the face of
the earth."*
In his letter of acceptance, on the
2d of October, Wadsworth reiterated
his independent, manly conviction, as
serting the expediency and sound ul
timate policy of President Lincoln's
Emancipation Proclamation, lately sent
forth, as " an effectual aid to the speedy
and complete suppression of the rebel
lion," as "the most humane method of
putting it down," arguing that while
the slaves earnestly desired freedom,
they had shown no disposition to injure
their masters, and that the masters
deprived of their labor, the war must
end quickly of necessity; and that the
emancipation once effected, the North
ern States would be forever relieved,
as it is right that they should be, from
the fears of a great influx of African
laborers disturbing the relation of those

Northern industrial classes who have
so freely given their lives to the sup
port of the Government. " This done,
and the whole African population will
drift to the South, where it will find a
congenial climate, and vast tracts of
land never yet cultivated." He also
alluded to the great benefit which
would result to the commercial world
from the conversion of four million
slaves into paid laborers, supplying
their wants by trade and traffic. After
urging the maintenance of the whole
territory of the Union, for which " our
foreign enemies" now " hate " us, but for
which, if we lost, they would " despise "
us ; he encouraged the hopes of civilians
by the courage and resolution of the
army. "I can only," said he, "judge ,
of the spirit of my fellow-citizens of
New York by that of her gallant sons
Avho have rushed to the field. These
I have seen in great numbers, and par
ticularly those who have been in the
hospital within my command. Among
these brave men, feeble and exhausted
by disease, tortured and mutilated by
cruel wounds, I have never yet heard
the first word of despair, the first sigh
of regret, that they had given health
and life to their country."*
Gen. Wadsworth was defeated at the
election in November, Horatio Seymour
being chosen,, a result attributed by
the Republicans to the absence of many
thousand voters of the party who had
enlisted and were on duty in the camps.
However this may have been, Gen.
Wadsworth had lost nothing of the re
gard of his friends in the State, and
had he tried to be a candidate for the

"New York Herald, Sept. 28, 18(52.

* Gen. Wadsworth to the Hon. Henry J. Baymond
President, &c, Washington, October 3, 1862

JAMES SAMUEL WADSWORTH.

557

office at the next election would doubt
less have been chosen by a large ma
jority. The following month of De
cember he was/ in accordance with his
repeated request, called into active ser
vice on occasion of the loss of officers
in the first great movement of Gen.
Burnside. at the battle of Fredericks
burg. With characteristic dispatch
he reached the field in time to witness
the recrossing of the Rappahannock,
and a few days after, relieving Gen.
Doubleday, took command of the First
Division of Reynolds' First Corps.
The army was condemned to inaction
during the winter by the state of the
roads, but Wadsworth found constant
employment in his devotion to the
welfare of his command, and his en
couragement of, and at times participa
tion in, the humble labors of his men.
When Hooker, in the spring of 1863,
assumed the offensive on the Rappa
hannock in the battle of Chancellors
ville, Wadsworth's division was at the
outset employed on the left of the line
in the work of transporting by hand
the heavy pontoon train to effect a
crossing below Fredericksburg. This
he did, forcing the passage Of the river
under a sharp fire from the enemy's
rifle-pits on the opposite land, swimming
his horse across the river after the first
boat, and landing among the foremost.
The rifle-pits were captured and the
position held, for two days, .when the
division recrossed the river, and by a
forced march crossed the stream again
above,. proceeded to Chancellorsville in
the Wilderness, and took up a position
on the extreme right. On the retreat
WadsAVorth protected the rear.
He Avas again actively employed in

June when Hooker moved to the north,
and at the battle of Gettysburgh he
Was exposed to the force of Lee's army
in the severe fighting of the first day,
Gen. Reynolds falling at the commence
ment of the engagement, leaving Wads
worth the command of the corps
through one of the most arduous days
of the war. The loss to his division
was fearful, and the remnant was again
in action on the succeeding days of this
decisive -conflict. Had the advice
which he gave in the council of war at
the close been followed, Lee would
haAve been compelled to fight another
battle before he could cross the Poto
mac. The thinning of the army corps
to which he was attached in these en
gagements permitting or requiring ' a
reduction of the number of officers,
Gen. Wadsworth was, at his own re
quest, relieved from command, and was
then sent on a tour of inspection on the
Mississippi to report on the condition
of the camps of freedmen and other
matters regarding the liberated slaves.
"On the eA^e of starting on this expedi
tion, he had a characteristic interview
with the paymaster from whom he had
received his pay from his first entry
into the service. On being. referred to
a new paymaster at New Orleans who
would make him any required dis
bursements, "No," said Wadsworth,
" I shall not apply to him. While I
am in the service I shall be paid only
by you ; and my reason for that is, that
I wish my account with the government
to be kept by one paymaster only, for
it is my purpose, at the close of the
war, to call on you for- an accurate
statement of all the money I haAre re
ceived from the United States. The

558

JAMES SAMUEL WADSWORTH.

amount, whatever
some permanent

it is, 1 shall give to
institution founded
for therelief of disabled soldiers. This
is the least invidious way in which I
can refuse pay for fighting for my coun
try in her hour of danger."*
On his return to Washington, early
in 1864, Wadsworth was employed as
commissioner for the exchange of pris
oners, and shortly after, on Gen. Grant
taking the field in Virginia, was at
tached to Gen. Warren's corps, and
Avas placed in command of the Fourth
division, including the remnant of his
¦old division in Reynold's corps. On
the 4th of May he crossed the Rapidan
with his corps, and on the 5th was in
action in the Wilderness, pressed by
the Confederate Gen. Hill. The fight
ing was severe, and was renewed with
greater severity early the next morning,
when Wadsworth's division, attached
to Hancock's corps, encountered that
day the forces of the enemy in repeated
charges and assaults. In leading his
men against Hill's forces in the fore
noon, Wadsworth had two horses shot
under him. Ordered by Hancock to
withdraw, the battle was renewed in
the afternoon by the assault of Long-
street upon part of his command, when
Wadsworth, opposing the enemy with
his old division, his horse was shot under
him, and he himself was struck in the
head, mortally wounded. The enemy
had possession of the ground where he
fell, and, unable to speak, he was car
ried to a neighboring hospital of the
Confederates, where he died on Sun
day, the 8th of May, 1865, at the age
of fifty-seven. His remains were en
closed in a coffin, and buried in his

family burying-ground by Patrick
McCracken, a resident in the vicinity.
A few days after the body was disin
terred and brought to Washington,
whence it was carried to New York,
where it was received with militarv
honors, and the next day reached its
lasting resting place at his home at
Geneseo. The burial was unostenta
tious, but marked by many simple
demonstrations of respect. A remnant
of the Twenty-first Regiment, New York
Volunteers, which had composed part
of his brigade in 1862, accompanied
their old friend and commander to the
grave. Thus fell Wadsworth of Geneseo.
"Rarely," in the words of an obituary
of the day, " can the words of the clas.
sic historian be more aptly applied,
that he Avas ' happy not only in the
splendor of his life, but in the oppor
tunity of his death.' " He had attained
the ripened vigor of mature years,
without suffering from the advance ol
age or the approach of decrepitude.
With untiring energy, and the Avisdom
of experience, he was absorbed to the
last in the performance of the highest
duties. No man was more strenuous
in his hostility to the rebellion, more
ardent and self-sacrificing in his passion
for freedom. His death was in sub
lime harmony with the spirit of his
life. It found him amidst the battle's
splendors, cheering his troops to vic
tory, and elated with the promise of
success. He fell in perhaps the most
decisive conflict in the history of the
Union, and his name will be immortal
ized in connection with the significance
and the glory of the occasion." *

* Rebellion Record, Vol. VIII. Incidents, etc. p. 24.

*New York Tribune, May 10, 1864.

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Jolm.BoiL.TVy- & Co. PuHisTiers 'New York
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JOHN SEDGWICK.

Major- General John- Sedgwick, a
member of a family eminent in the
literary "and legal history of the coun
try, was born at Cornwall, Litchfield
county, Connecticut,in 1817. Hisgrand-
father John Sedgwick, was an officer in
the war of the Revolution. Young
Sedgwick was admitted at the West
Point Military Academy as a cadet at
the age of sixteen, and graduated at the
institution, twenty-fourth in a class of
fifty, in 1837. He was then appointed
Second Lieutenant in the Second Ar
tillery, and in 1839, was promoted to a
first lieutenancy. He was engaged in the
Mexican War, notably distinguishing
himself in the closing battles Of Geni
Scott's campaign ; at -Contreras, Churu-
busco, at Molino del Rey^ Chapultepec
and the final assault upon the City of
Mexico, at the San Cosmo Gate. For
these;services'he was brevetted Captain
and Major. In 1849, he attained the
full rank of Captain, and in March
1855, was promoted major in the First
Cavalry. During the Kansas difficul
ties, he was stationed with his-regiment
commanded by Col. Sumner in that
territory, and performed many embar
rassing: duties with fairness and- impar
tiality. ' "In one of the encounters,"
we are told, " between the troops and
settlers, a young lad belonging to the
n.— 71'

Free State party, was severely wound
ed and left in the hands of the dragoons.
Major Sedgwick, with his characteristic
tenderness, - took the lad to his own
quarters and nursed him till his wounds
were healed. For this act of humanity
he was rebuked by Mr. Jefferson Davis,
then Secretary of War, and annoyed
by a long and unsatisfactory corre
spondence with the officials at Wash
ington."* Major Sedgwick continued in com
mand at the West till the commence
ment of the late war in 1861, when, in ;
April of that year, he; was appointed
colonel of the Fourth Cavalry. In the .
ensuing August he was commissioned
Brigadier-General of Volunteers. On
the organization Of McClellan's Army
of the Potomacj in October, he was as
signed to Gen. Heintzelman's Division,
his brigade being composed of the
Third and Fourth Maine and Thirty-
eighth and Fortieth New. York Volun
teers. In the subsequent distribution
of troops in the new Army Corps in
March, 1862, he Ayas assigned a division
in his old command, in Gen. Sumner's
Second Corps, the infantry of his divi
sion being mostly composed of New
York, Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania

* Biography of Sedgwick. Frank Moore's
trait Gallery of the War." (sem

'Por-

560

JOHN SEDGWICK.

Volunteers. In February, 1862, he
was assigned to the command previous
ly held by Gen. Stone, on the upper
Potomac. When the scene of war was
transferred to the Peninsula, Gen. Sedg
wick was sent, upon the surrender of
Yorktown, by water, to the right bank
of the Pamunkey, in the vicinity of
West Point, and was engaged with the
enemy in the action which folloAved
the landing at that place. He subse
quently moved with the army on the
line of the railway to the Cbickahom-
iny, and was encamped with Gen. Rich-.
ardson's other division of. Gen. Sum
ner's Corps on the north side of the
stream, some six miles above Bottom
Bridge. While at. this position, Gen.
Sumner was ordered, on the afternoon
of the 31st of May, to cross the river
with his command in support of Gen.
Heintzelman, who with Gen. Keys
had been engaged with the enemy dur
ing the day in the action known as the
battle of Seven Pines. The part borne
by Gen. Sumner's command in retriev
ing the fortunes of the day in the ac
tion at Fair Oaks was thus related by
him before the War Committee ap
pointed by Congress for the investiga
tion of the conduct of the war. On
receiving an order from Gen. McClellan
to hold his forces in readiness to move
to the scene of action, he says: "In
stead of merely preparing to move, I at
once advanced with my two divisions,
Sedgwick's and Richardson's, halting
with the leading company of each
division on the bridge.! In that way I
saved at least an hour of time. The
river was then rising rapidly, and when
I received the order to advance, one of
the bridges became impassable in a

very short time, and many of the tim
bers of the other bridge were floating ;
we, however, succeeded in crossing,
and I advanced rapidly to Fair Oaks
with Sedgwick's Division. On reach
ing Fair Oaks, I was met by General
Couch, who told me that he had been
separated by the enemy from the rest
of the army, and was expecting an at
tack every moment. I formed this
division of Sedgwick's, together with
Couch's troops, assuming command of
the whole, as quickly as possible, with
a battery of artillery between the two
divisions. Before the formation Avas
completed, the enemy made a ferocious
attack on my centre, evidently with
the expectation of getting possession
of my battery. My forces were formed
into two lines, nearly at right angles. I
had six regiments in hand on the left
of the battery. After sustaining a
very severe fire for some time, those
six regiments charged directly into the
woods, crossing a broken down fence
in doing so. The enemy then fled, and
the action was over for that day."
For his services at Fair Oaks, Gen.
Sedgwick, Avho had acted with great
gallantry on the field, Avas brevetted
Brigadier-General in the Regular Army.
During the subsequent retreat of the
Army of the Potomac to the James
river, Gen. Sedgwick was frequently in
action, meeting the enemy with his
accustomed gallantry at Savage's Sta
tion, and other battle-fields of the cam
paign. When the army Avas brought
back to Northern Virginia he was Avith
Gen. Pope in the retreat to Washington,
and immediately after Avith General
McClellan in the brief campaign in
Maryland, which closed with the defeat

JOHN SEDGWICK.

561

of Lee in the battle of Antietam. The
action commenced at daylight of the
I7th of September, Avith an attack on
the enemy's left by the corps of Gen.
Hooker. After several hours severe
contest, General Sedgwick's division of
Sumner's corps, arrived on the field at
about nine o'clock, and marched to the
support of the attack on the left. The
contest was a severe one as Sedgwick
advanced under fire from the enemy's
concealed batteries and breastworks,
and presently encountered a heavy
column of the enemy in his rear. He
maintained the battle however Avith
great spirit, commanding . the division
for more than an hour after he was
wounded, animating the troops by his
presence, when the loss of blood from
a second wound compelled him to leave
the field.*
On his recovery in December, Gen.
Sedgwick was assigned to the command
of the Ninth Army Corps, serving with
the Army of the Potomac on the Rap
pahannock. In February, 1863, having
succeeded Gen. Smith in command of
the Sixth corps, he was commissioned
Major-General of Volunteers. When
Gen. Hooker, in May, advanced with
his army across the Rappahannock, and
took up a position at Chancellorsville,
Gen. Sedgwick was ordered to support
with his corps the movement on the
left, by an attack on the enemy's works
at Fredericksburg. This he success-
fidly accomplished, crossing the river
below the city, and storming the heights
above in an assault of great valor,
planned and directed by himself on the
field. This being accomplished, he
pushed on, according to instructions,

* Report of Gen. McClellan, August 4, 1863.

towards Chancellorsville, to effect a
junction with the remainder of HookerV
army, when he was arrested on his
march by the enemy in force, when a
second engagement ensued without de
cisive result. Hooker, meanwhile de
feated at Chancellors ville, was on his
retreat, and Sedgwick, the enemy being
now re-established in his rear at Fred
ericksburg, was compelled to find his
way as best he could across the Rappa
hannock. This passage of the river he
accomplished, fighting his way to
Brook's Ford, five miles, above the city,
where he brought over his command to
the north bank in safety. .
The next great battle of the war in
Avhich the Army of the Potomac was
engaged, was the decisive action at
Gettysburg. In this, Sedgwick's Sixth
Corps played an important part. It
arrived on the field the second day of
the engagement, at two o'clock in the
afternoon, having accomplished since
nine of the forenoon of the previous
day a march of thirty-two miles. The
wearied troops, without time to rest,
were presently brought into action to
repel the enemy's attack on the left,
where the exposure of his command by
Gen. Sickles had given them a tempo
rary advantage. This service was suc
cessfully performed. The day closed
with the repulse of the foe in this
quarter, and the next day, the memor
able 3d of July, 1863, brought victory
to the whole army. In November,
Sedgwick was again in action in con
flict with Lee's forces on the Rappa
hannock and the Rapidan.
When the army was reorganized in
the following March, after Grant was
appointed Lieutenant-General, and as-

562

JOHN SEDGWICK.

sumed command in Virginia, General
SedgAvick was retained in the command
of the Sixth Corps. In the advance of
Gen. Grant, in May, at the beginning
of the sanguinary battles of the Wil
derness, Sedgwick's corps was desper
ately assailed while getting into posi
tion, but held its ground firmly, and
repelled the attack of the enemy, though
like the rest of the army, with heavy
loss. A few days after, on the 9th,
when the army was before Lee's en
trenchments at Spottsyh^ania Court
House, as Gen. Sedgwick was in the
extreme front of his corps with a few
members of his staff, superintending the
posting of his guns, his attention was
excited by the shrinking of the men at
the occasional passage of a whistling
bullet from the enemy's position.
" Pooh, men," said he, " they can't hit
an elephant at that distance." He had
hardly uttered the words when he was
struck by a ball in the face below the

eye, and fell mortally wounded, dying
on the instant. It Avas a soldier's death,
such as he would have chosen for him
self " Words of Eulogium," says Pro
fessor Coffee, writing of the event,
" which would seem like flattery, if
spoken of other men, are inadequate to
express his virtues. A thorough sob
dier, a skillful general, and one of the
very best of men, he was at once
respected and beloved by all who knew
him. Simple in heart and manner ¦
modest as a youth ; very generous to all
around him; never seeking his own
aggrandizement to the detriment of
others, but rather preferring theirs to
his own, he was the modern example
of Chaucer's ' very parfit, gentil knight.'
Forever green be the turf above his
quiet grave at Cornwall Hollow,
watered by the toars of friendship, and
cherished by the pious care of patriot
pilgrims."

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Jahnno-n ' ' ¦ ., i ,¦ .1 ;lif.ps,.'N'owVbr.k, .
¦rj : «.y , r c,„.r,,,., Jn 4nc4 I,, ,/„i.„,,„,jp. i r* ,„ ,1,, *M» m. „ „r«i, ,/,!,,,„„, ,„,„., r„ a.

¦ ttinlrirtrf N.y.

QULNCEY ADAMS GILLMORE.

This distinguished engineer officer
of the United States army was born' in
the town of- Black River, Loraine
county, Ohio, February 28th, 1825.
Educated in his native State, he en
tered the West Point Military Academy
as a cadet at the age of twenty, and
graduated at that institution, the head
of his class, in 1-849. He was appointed
brevet second lieutenant ' of • the corps
of engineers, and for the next three
years was employed- as assistant engi
neer on the fortifications in Hampton
Roads, Virginia. He then was stationed
for several years at West Point, en
gaged in the department of practical
engineering, superintending trials in
testing the pb AVer of Various projectiles
andthe strength .of materials for.fortifi-:
cations, recording the results of the ex
periments in a series of photographic
views. He. subsequently resided as
agent for the 'engineer department ' in
the city of New York The outbreak
of the rebellion- in 1861- foundiim en
gaged in these duties of his profession. .
As the war advanced and : portions of
the Atlantic seaboard were occupied,
the employment of engineering ability
of the first order became a prime mili
tary necessity. Landing in face of an
enemy, defences had to be thrown up
on the instant, well fortified camps to

be constructed, and every advantage of
the ground to be taken to maintain an
embarrassed'' position in a hostile coun
try. To no one was the nation more
indebted, during the war, for a series
of brilliant and' successful engineering
operations, illustrating the- great - pro
gress of the Government in military re
sources, than to Major Gillmore of ; the
Engineer Corps.
When Gen. T. W. Sherman, in No-
A'ember, 1861, in concert with the naval
Operations of Admiral Dnpont, took
possession of Port Royal, on the cOast
of South Carolina, he was accompanied
by Captain Gillmore as chief engineer :
of the expeditionary- corps. The ser
vices of the. latter were immediately
called into requisition in the construe
tion of the important works on Hilton
Head Island,' and 'hardly was the army
established in its' new' camp when Cap
tain Gillmore, at the end of November,
was sent to Ty bee - Island to - make a
military reconnoissance of the defences
of Savannah in that locality, and report
on- the- propriety- of "occupying and
holding the" first Tybee Island and the
practicability of reducing Fort Pulaski.
Within three days after he left the
camp with this object, Captain Gillmore
returned to Hilton Head and reported,
on the 1st of December, that Fort Pu
'.563)

564

QUINCE Y ADAMS GILLMOEE.

laski might be reduced by batteries of
mortars and rifled guns established on
Tybee Island. He pointed out the
method which should be pursued, the
manner in which the guns should be
planted, described the position and
proper protection, suggested that
enough mortars should be employed to
throw one shell a minute into the fort,
and as many guns as mortars, estimat
ing that, after once obtaining the range,
five-eighths of the shells fronrthe mor
tars could be lodged inside of the fort.
In view of these operations, he recom
mended the immediate occupation of
Tybee Island until the question of the
reduction of Fort Pulaski should be de
termined. Gen. Sherman approved the project
thus submitted, and recommended its
adoption to the authorities at Wash
ington. It received the sanction of the
Department, and orders were given to
prepare . the necessary ordnance and
stores. Big Tybee Island was promptly
occupied in December by a regiment
of New York volunteers, and about
the middle of January operations were
commenced for investing the fort by
batteries to be placed above on the
Savannah river. The difficulties in
this quarter were very great, but they
were successfully overcome by engineer
ing skill and the arduous exertions of
the Connecticut and New York troops
detailed for the service. The main
task, was to place an effective battery
on Jones' Island, a most unpromising
place to establish anything upon, being,
in the description of Captain Gillmore,
"nothing but a mud marsh, covered
with reeds and tall grass, the general
surface about on the level of ordinary

high tide, Avith a few spots of limited
area, as at Venus Point,, submerged
only by spring tides or by ordinary
tides favored by the wind. The char
acter of the soil is the same over the
whole island, being a soft, unctuous
mud, free of grit or sand, and incapable
of supporting a heavy weight. Even
in the most elevated places, the par
tially dry crust is but three or four
Inches in depth, the substratum being
a semi-fluid mud, which is agitated like
jelly by the falling of even small
bodies upon it, like the jumping of men
or ramming of earth. A pole or an oar
can be forced into it with ease to the
depth of twelve or fifteen feet. In most
places the resistance diminishes with
increase of penetration. Men walking
over it are partially sustained by the
roots of reeds and grass, and sink in
five or six inches. When this top sup
port gives way, they go down from
two to two and one-half feet, and in
some places much further."
On this seemingly impracticable and
certainly not very attractive island a
causeway had to be constructed and
the guns— three 30-pounder and two
20-pounder Parrott rifles and an 8-inch
siege howitzer — transported over it
from an inner channel to Venus' Point
on the Savannah river, a distance of
some thirteen hundred yards. As the
enemy's armed boats were passing up
and down the river, all this could be
undertaken with a prospect of success,
only by night. After many preliminary
difficulties had been overcome in clear
ing the inner channel of approach and
meeting other embarrassments, the work
was commenced on the night of the 1 Oth
of February, 1862. A wharf for the

QUINCEY ADAMS GILLMORE.

565

landing of the guns haying been con
structed of poles and. sandbags, planks
were laid on the quaking .morass, over
which the guns were hauled a distance,
the first night, of about three hundred -
yards, whilst a platform for the battery
at Venus' Point, was being built of
planks laid on a foundation of sand,
which was carried in bags to the spot.
As the guns were pushed forward, the
carriages would at times slip off the
planks, which were smeared with the
slimy mud. The. wheels would then
sink to the hub, and powerful levers
had to be used to .lift them again.
Captain Gillmore tells us that many of
the men, under his direction, encased
their feet in sand bags to keep the mud
out of their shoes., Before mOrning
the imperfect work was covered by
reeds and grass, to conceal it from obser
vation during the day. By the second
morning the work was in a measure
completed, and the battery the next
day opened fire on a Confederatesteamer
descending the river. , The day after, it
successfully resisted an attack of gun
boats sent from above to reconnoitre.
Fort Pulaski was; thus . cut off from
ordinary river communication with Sa
vannah. Captain Gillmore, who had thus far
personally superintended these engi
neering operations, was now ordered to
place Big Tybee Island in a thorough
state of defence, and commence prepa
rations for the. bombardment of Fort
Pulaski. On the 2 1st of February the"
first vessel with ordnance for the siege
arrived in Tybee Roads, and from that
time till the 9th of April all the troops
on the ; island — the Seventh Regiment
Connecticut Volunteers, the Forty-sixth

Regiment of New York Volunteers,
two Companies of the Volunteer En
gineers, and ten Companies Third
Rhode Island Volunteer Artillery —
were constantly engaged in landing the
ordnance, constructing roads and bat
teries with bomb proof shelter, and
drilling at the ' pieces. The armament,
as finally established, consisted of
thirty-six pieces — twelve heavy 13-inch
mortras, four 10-inch siege mortras ; six
10-inch and four 8-inch Columbiads,
five 30-pounder Parrott rifled guns, one
forty-eight, two ; sixty-four . and two
eighty -four James' rifled guns — distri
buted in eleven batteries on: the north
ern side of the island, at distances from
the fort varying 'from thirty-four .hun
dred yards to sixteen hundred and fifty.
: Some idea of the severe trial under
gone in these preparations may be
gathered. from the interesting details of
Captain Gillmore/ s" official report : " Ty
bee Island," says he, ',' is mostly a mud
marsh, like other marsh islands on this
coast. Several ridges and hummocks
of firm ground, however, exist upon it,
and the shore of Tybee roads, where
the batteries were located, is partially
skirted by low sand banks, formed by
the gradual and protracted action Of
the wind and tides. The distance along
this shore, from the landing place to
the advanced, batteries, is about two
and a half miles. The last mile of this
route, on which the seven most ad
vanced batteries were placed, is low
and marshy, lies in full view of Fort
Pulaski, and is within effective range
of its guns. The construction of a
causeway resting on fascines, and
brushwood, over this swampy portion
of the line ; the erection of the severa1

566

QUINCEY ADAMS GILLMORE.

batteries, with the magazines, gun-plat
forms, and splinter-proof shelters ; the
transportation of the heaviest ordnance
in our service, by the labor of men
alone ; the hauling of ordnance stores
and engineer's supplies, and the mount
ing of the guns and mortars on their
carriages and beds, had to be done al
most exclusively at night, alike regard
less of the inclemency of the weather,
and of the miasma from the swamps.
No one except an eye-Avitness, can form
any but a faint conception of the Her
culean labor by which mortars of eight
and one half tons weight, and colum-
biads but a trifle lighter, were moved
in the dead of night, over a narrow
causeway, bordered by swamps on
either side, and liable, at any moment,
to be overturned and buried in the mud
beyond reach. The stratum of mud is
about twel\re feet deep ; and, on several
occasions, the heaviest pieces, particu
larly the mortars, became detached
from the sling-carts, and were, with
great difficulty, by the use of planks
and skids, kept from sinking to the
bottom. Two hundred and fifty men
were, barely sufficient to move a single
piece, on sling carts. The men were
not allowed to speak above a whisper,
and were guided by the notes of a
whistle. The positions selected for the
five most advanced batteries, were arti
ficially screened from view from the
fort, by a gradual and almost imper
ceptible change, made little by little,
every night, in the condition and ap
pearance of the brushwood and bushes
in front of them. No sudden altera
tion of the outline of the landscape
was permitted. After the concealment
was once perfected to such a degree as

to afford a good and safe parapet be
hind it, less care was taken ; and some
of the work in the batteries, requiring
mechanical skill, was done in the day
time, the fatigue parties going to their
labor before break of day, and return- .
ing in the evening after dark."
Fort Pulaski, against which these for
midable batteries were to be directed,
was a brick- work of five sides, case-
mated with walls seven and a-half feet
thick and twenty-five feet high above
the water, mounting one tier of guns in
embrasures and one en barbette. At
the time of the siege, it contained forty-
eight heavy guns, of which twenty bore
upon the batteries on Tybee Island. On
the 9th of April, Captain Gillmore had
everything in readiness to open fire,
and issued a general order, giving par
ticular directions for the working of
each battery, the time of firing the
guns, the charges and elevation of the
pieces. Maj.-Gen. David Hunter, now
in command of the Department and
Brig.-Gen. Benham, commanding one
of its districts, were present to assist
in the operations. At sunrise on the
morning of the 10th, Gen. Hunter sum
moned the fort to surrender, which
Colonel Olmstead, in command, of the
pest, promptly declined, briefly answer
ing, " I can only say that I am here to
defend the fort, not to surrender it."
The bombardment was then commenced
about eight o'clock in the forenoon, and
in about an hour all the batteries along
the line of over twenty-five hundred
yards in length, were in operation. The
range was soon obtained, and that day
over three thousand projectiles, varying
in size from the 13-inch mortar-shell to
the 30-pound Parrottshot, Avere dis-

QTJINCEY ADAMS GILLMORE.

567

charged. In this the rifled guns were
of more service in penetrating the face
of the fort than the mortars, the shells
from which seldom fell within the work.
Observation of the battered face of the
fort, against which the fire Avas mainly
directed, showed that a breach would
soon be effected. Two of the barbette
guns were disabled and three of the
casemate guns silenced. The enemy's
fire, meanwhile, was well directed ; but
owing to Captain Gillmore's excellent
preparations, failed to inflict any loss
or damage. Three of the mortars and
one of the Parrott guns kept up a fire
during the night, to deprive the garri
son of Pulaski of sleep. A little after
sunrise, all the batteries opened their
fire, by which the breach was rapidly
enlarged. At noon, it was observed
that one of the embrasures of the fort
was opened ten or twelve feet square,
and others adjacent were being similar
ly shattered. A practicable breach was
being effected for a successful assault,
preparations for which were in fact be
ing made when, at two o'clock, a white
flag was raised on the fort, and the
garrison, three hundred and eighty-five
in number surrendered. Several of
them were severely and one fatally
Wounded, while the total loss of the
besiegers was one man killed. Not one
of the pieces on Tybee Island was
struck. With the exception of a party
of sailors from the frigate Wabash, ly
ing in the roads, there were no artiller
ists of any experience engaged in the
bombardment The pieces were served
by infantry troops, who, during the in
tervals of other labors, had but a week
or ten days drilling for the work.
Immediately after the reduction of
72

Fort Pulaski, Captain Gillmore was ap
pointed Brigadier-General of Volun
teers ; but, on account of ill-health, was
unable for some time to engage in active
duty. In September, he was ordered
to the Department of the Ohio, and
was subsequently assigned to the com
mand of the Military District of Cen
tral Kentucky. There, on the 30th of
March, 1863, he had the satisfaction of
inflicting a heavy blow on a body of
rebels under Gen. Pegram, whom, by
a forced march from his headquarters
at Lexington, he came up with at Som
erset. " I attacked the enemy," wrote
Gen. Gillmore in his despatch after the
battle, " in a strong position-of his own
selection, defended by six cannon near
the town; fought him for five hours,
driving him from one position to an
other ; finally stormed his position,
whipped him handsomely, and drove
him in confusion toward the Cumber
land river. His loss is over three hun
dred in killed, wounded, and prisoners ;
ours will not exceed thirty."
From the West, Gen. Gillmore was
called in May to Washington, to con
sult with the War and Navy Depart
ments regarding a proposed renewed
trial of the monitors against the defen
ces of Charleston Harbor, and the em
ployment of a land force in co-operation
with the squadron. He expressed the
opinion, in the consultations on the.
subject, that Sumter could be reached
and reduced, and urged a fearless trial
of the iron-clads in the harbor, with
resolution and perseverance in the ex
periment. A plan of attack was agreed
upon, comprising a descent upon and
occupation of the south end of Morris'
Island, then in possession of and being

568

QUINCE Y ADAMS GILLMORE.

strongly fortified by the enemy ; the
siege and reduction of Fort Wagner, a
heavily armed earthwork of strong plan
and relief near the north end of Moms'
Island, and distant about 2,600 yards
from Sumter; and the bombardment of
the latter from this point seconding the
movements of monitors and iron-clads
Avhich were to enter the harbor, remove
the obstructions, and push forward to
the city. To carry out these designs in
the most efficient manner, Rear- Admiral
Foote, whose proved boldness and ener
gy might be relied upon, was appointed
to the command of the South Atlantic
blockading squadron, and Gen. Gill
more Avas assigned to the command of
the department of the South. While
Admiral Foote was making preparation
for his departure from the North, he
was overtaken by a fatal illness, and on
his death at New York, in June, Ad
miral Dahlgren, Chief of the Bureau
of Ordnance at Washington, was ap
pointed in his place in command of the
squadron. Gen. Gillmore assumed com
mand of the department on the 12th of
June, and Admiral Dahlgren of the
fleet at Port Royal on the 6th of July.
Preparations were at once made for the
projected attack. As a preliminary to
the descent on Morris Island, Brig.-
Gen. Vogdes, who held Folly Island,
adjacent on the south, secretly establish
ed a series of batteries mounting no less
than forty-seven guns, including twelve
30-pounder Parrotts, at the extreme
north end of the island, where his op
erations were masked by the thick un
dergrowth covering the ridges of sand
which here formed an exception to the
low and bare level of the island. The
batteries commanded. the opposite shore

of Morris Island, and were of course
available to dismount the enemy's guns
at that place and cover the landing of
troops. These works being completed,
Gen. Gillmore assembled in the first
week of July, on Folly Island, about
six thousand additional troops, com
posed of Gen. Terry's Division and
Gen. Strong's Brigade. On the 8th he
issued his instructions for the move
ment. Gen. Terry was sent with his
command up the Stone River on the
west to make a demonstration on
James' Island which had the effect of
drawing off a portion of the enemy's
force on Morris Island. When this
was accomplished, nearly two thousand
men of Gen. Strong's brigade were
embarked on the evening of the 9th in
boats in Folly River, and brought to
the entrance, of Lighthouse Inlet, sepa
rating Morris from Folly Island. Gen.
Vogdes' batteries opened at daybreak,
and after two hours' firing, the landing
of the troops was effected, the enemy
driven from his guns at the southern
point, and the whole island, with the
exception of a mile at the northern end,
including Fort Wagner and a battery on
Cumming's Point, was in possession oi
the Union forces. An attempt was made
the next morning to carry Fort Wag
ner by assault, but it Avas too strongly
defended to be taken without a regular
siege, and Gen. Gillmore set to work to
establish his batteries against it. This
was speedily accomplished, four rifle
and mortar batteries having been erect
ed by the 18th, Avhen fire was opened
and continued through the day upon
Fort Wagner, the mortars and iron
clads assisting in the bombardment.
At evening an assault was made by

QUINCEY ADAMS GILLMORE.

569

the troops on the island, led by Gen.
Strong's Brigade. The advance along
the beach was gallantly made under a
heavy fire from the enemy's guns, and a
bastion of the fort gained; a severe
but unsuccessful contest ensued, with
great loss of officers and men in the
Union ranks, and once more Fort Wag
ner proved impracticable to an ordi.
nary assault. It was now determined
by Gen. Gillmore to attempt the reduc
tion of Fort Sumter by hi3 batteries,
leaving the taking of Fort Wagner to
the slow but sure progress of close siege
operations. Parallels were established
and breaching-guns placed in position at
advantageous points during the follow
ing month, and on the 1 7th of August,
twelve batteries opened fire upon the
enemy's Avorks. Of these, eight mount
ed with eighteen heaAy breaching guns,
mostly Parrott rifles, were directed at
Fort Sumter, while the others kept
down the fire of Fort Wagner. The
bombardment was kept up for a week,
at the end of which time Gen. Gillmore
thus reported the result in a dispatch
to Gen. Halleck at Washington : " I
have the honor," says he, " to report
the practical demolition of Fort Sum-'
ter as the result of our seven days'
bombardment of that work, including
two days of which a powerful north
easterly storm mOst seriously "diminish
ed the accuracy and effect of our fire.
Fort Sumter is to-day a shapeless and
harmless mass of ruins. My Chief of
Artillery, Colonel J. N. Turner, reports
its destruction so far complete that it is
no longer of any avail in the defences
of Charleston. He also says that by a
longer fire it could be made more com
pletely a ruin and a mass cf broken

masonry, but could scarcely be more
powerless for the defence of the harbor.
My breaching batteries Avere located at
distances varying between 3,330 and
4,240 yards from the work, and now
remain as efficient as ever. T deem it
unnecessary at present to continue their
fire upon the ruins of Sumter. I have
also, at great labor, and under a heavy
fire from James Island, established
batteries on my left, with effective
range of the heart of Charleston, and
have opened with them, after giving
Gen. Beauregard due notice of my
intention to do so."
Close approaches were meantime be
ing made by successive parallels to
Fort Wagner, and by the 27th of Au
gust the sap was pushed to within a
hundred yards of the work. It was
then determined to breach the bomb
proof shelter which had been so effec
tive a means of preservation to the
enemy ; the fort was pressed by sharp
shooters, and powerful calcium lights
were provided to. assist the operations
of the besiegers at night and Wind the
defenders. On the morning of the 5th
of September, the final attack com
menced. "For forty-two consecutive
hours," says Gen. Gillmore in his official
report, "the spectacle presented was of
surpassing sublimity and grandeur.
Seventeen siege and coehorn mortars
unceasingly dropped their shells into
the work, oArer the heads of our sap
pers and the guards of the advanced
trenches ; thirteen of our heavy Parrott
rifles— -100, 200 and 300-pounders—
pounded away, at short though regular
intervals, at the south-west angle of
the bomb-proof, while during the day
time the New Ironsides, with remark-

570

QUINCEY ADAMS GILLMORE.

able regularity and precision, kept an
almost incessant stream of 11-inch
shells from her eight-gun broadside,
ricocheting over the water against the
sloping parapet of Wagner, whence,
deflected upward with a low remaining
velocity, they dropped nearly vertically,
exploding within or over the work, and
rigorously searching every part of it
except the subterranean shelters. The
calcium lights turned night into day ;
and while throwing around our own
men an impenetrable obscurity, they
brilliantly illuminated every object in
front, and brought the minutest details
of the fort into sharp relief."
These operations were so successfully
conducted, that the fall of Fort Wao--
ner became inevitable ; and when they
had fully accomplished their work, on
the eve of the final assault which had
been ordered for the morning of the
7th, the enemy stealthily made their
escape from the fort. On the 15th,
Gen. Gillmore congratulated his army
on the successful result of their long
and arduous labors. "Fort Sumter,"
said he, "is destroyed; the scene where
our country's flag suffered its first dis
honor you have made the theatre of
one of its proudest triumphs. The
fort has been in the possession of the
enemy for more than two years, has
been his pride and boast, has been
strengthened by every appliance known
to military science, and has defied the
assaults of the most powerful and'gal-
lant fleet the world eATer saw. But
it has yielded to your courage and
patient labor. Its walls are now crum
bled to ruins, its formidable batteries
are silenced, and, though a hostile
flag still floats over it, the fort is a

harmless and helpless wreck. Forts
Wagner and Gregg, works rendered
memorable by their protracted resist
ance, and the sacrifices of life they have
cost, have also been wrested from the
enemy by your persevering courage
and skill, and* the graves of our fallen
comrades rescued from desecration and
contumely. You now hold in undis
puted possession the whole of Morris
Island, and the city and harbor of
Charleston lie at the mercy of your
artillery from the very spot where the
first shot was fired at your countiy's
flag and the rebellion itself was inaug
urated. To you, the officers and sol
diers of this command, and to the gal
lant naAy which has co-operated with
you, are due the thanks of your com
mander and your country. You were
called upon to encounter untold priva
tions and dangers; to undergo unre
mitting and exhausting labors ; to sus
tain severe and disheartening reverses.
How nobly your patriotism and zeal
have responded to the call, the results
of the campaign will show, and your
Commanding General gratefully bears
witness." Gen. Gillmore having accomplished
in the Southern department all that
could be attained in direct operations
for the capture of Charleston, was
subsequently ordered to service in Vir
ginia, where, in command of the Tenth
Army Corps, he assisted in the military
operations of Gen. Grant's Army be
fore Richmond. At the conclusion of
hostilities he published an account of
the Engineer and Artillery Operations
against the Defences of Charleston Har
bor.

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PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.

Major-Geneeal Sheridan was born
of Irish parentage in Perry county,
Ohio, in 1831. He received a common-
school education, and at the. age of
seventeen, in 1848, was appointed from
that :State to a cadetship in the Mili
tary Academy at; West- Point : He
remained" a. second year in the lowest
or fourth class, graduating in 1853,
when he was assigned with the usual
rank, ¦ brevet second-lieutenant, to the
First Regiment of Infantry then serving
in Texas.' There was, some chance of
his not attaining this honor, if we may
trust a published sketch of his military
adventures, which gives- this account
of his career at ' West Point. " The
characteristics," says the writer, "which
had distinguished him at the humble
school at his native town soOn 'made
him ' noted , at West Point as the ' best-
natured and most ^belligerent cadet ' in
the Academy. He has often declared,
since his late successes; that he had
passed through West Point only by
' the skin of his teeth.' In fact, -his
belligerent disposition, retarded his ad
vancement in youth and as. a cadet as
much as it . has since advanced him.
He fought so much at West Point, was
bo unruly and ' so full of deviltry,' that,
despite his fine scholarly attainments,
he graduated so low doAvn in his class

that he could only be commissioned in
the lowest -arm ?of. the service. He
required at the time Of ; his graduation
only 'five points' more to his number
of ' black marks' to exclude him from
the honors- of graduation ; and if he
had not, toward the close of the session,
by skillful .management and unusual
control over his quick temper, won the
good opinion of one or two of. his
tutors, the future Major-General would
have been forced to leave the Academy
as he had entered instead of Second
Lieutenant of Infantry by Brevet. One
of his instructors, who had admired his
generous character, employed the argu
ment that a belligerent temperament
was not a fault in a' soldier, and this is
said to have secured' him the needed
approval of the West Point staff ' of
instructors and the honors of'gradu
ation. The argument was too. power
ful to be resisted by educated soldiers,
and Sheridan was consequently sent
forth fully authorized to be as great a
belligerent in time of war as he de
sired."* On his arrival in Texas, Lieutenant
Sheridan was stationed at Fort Duncan,
and a characteristic anecdote is told of
his personal conduct in conflict with a

* Becolleetions of Sheridan. Harper's New Monthly
Magazine, August, 1865. 571

572

PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.

band of Apaches, by whom he was
attacked outside the fort when in com
pany with ten soldiers. The soldiers
were armed, and Sheridan Avas not.
Leaving the men to defend themselves
for the moment, Sheridan sprang upon
a horse from which an Indian chief of
the hostile party had dismounted, rode
rapidly to the fort, and hastily arming
himself, returned, shot the chief dead,
and joined his ten companions in pur
suit of the others.
In 1855, Sheridan, now full second
lieutenant, was transferred to the
Fourth Infantry, on duty in Oregon,
and on his arrival at San Francisco,
was placed in command of the escort
of the expedition engaged in surveying
the proposed branch of the Pacific
Railroad to connect that city with the
Columbia River. Not long after this
he was ordered to join a battalion of
dragoons, under Major Raine of the
Fourth Infantry, in an expedition
against the Yakima Indians, in which
he distinguished himself by his bravery
"in an encounter Avith the*savages at the
" Battle of the Cascades" of the Colum
bia River, April, 1856. After this he
was given the command of the Indian
Reservation of the Coast Range, and
built the military fort at Yamhill. He
was for six years engaged in these Arari-
ous services among the Indians, on the
Pacific Coast — an excellent school for
the practice and encouragement of a
braA'e young cavalry officer. At the
end of this time, the desertion of
Southern officers, prior to the great
Rebellion, brought him promotion in
the new organization of the Army to
a Captaincy in the Thirteenth Regi
ment of Infantry, and his career hence

forth is identified with the most dis
tinguished services of the war. His
first employment Avas in Missouri,
where, under Gen. Halleck's command,
he was placed on a commission to ex
amine certain claims against the War
Department arising from the, Fremont
administration of affairs in that quar
ter, and was afterwards appointed Act
ing Chief Quartermaster and Commis
sary in the preparation of the army for
a campaign in the South-western por
tion of the State.
An amusing anecdote of this service,
narrated in the " Recollections" already
cited, will show how Sheridan was
transferred from the Commissary De
partment to active duty in the field :
" He was out of place, and his success
as a quarter-master was very indifferent
indeed. He used to laugh and say,
many months after, when located at
Murfreesboro, Tennessee, that provid
ing 'hard tack and sow-belly' wasn't
in his line, and was very fond of relat
ing, in connection with the remark, his
first experience in restricting the con
traband traffic in salt with the rebels.
As Chief Quarter-master it was his
duty to take such steps as would not
only provide for his own troops but
deprive the rebels of contraband sup
plies. Hearing that Price, then at
Springfield, was suffering for salt, he.
employed every means to stop the ex
port of that article beyond our lines ;
and congratulating himself on his suc
cess, used often to say, -with a chuckle,
that ' the rebels were actually starving
for salt.' When the advance of the
army took place, and Price was hastily
driven out of Springfield, the only
article left behind was, much to Sheri

PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.

573

dan's disgust, an immense quantity of
salt. He ever afterward professed him
self disgusted with his quarter-master
ship, and fortunately soon after got
himself under arrest and sent to the
rear. Officers generally look upon
arrests as misfortunes. Sheridan's
arrest was the turning-point in his
fortunes, since it placed him, after a
brief delay, on the staff of a rising
Major-General and in the line of pro
motion. The circumstances of his
arrest are not without interest, as
showing one or two of his character
istics. Like many regular officers of
the army, as organized in 1862, Sheri
dan was in favor of carrying on the
Avar by striking hard blows at the
organized armies of the rebels, and
generously protecting the people Avho,
Avhile remaining at home under United
States protection, furnished the men
and material to the rebels. He has
OATercome this too delicate and nice
consideration for the interests of rebel
raiders and abettors, and, like the coun
try, has been educated by war into the
belief that treason is to be fought with
fire. Feeling thus during the Pea Ridge
campaign, and being a great stickler
for military regularity and routine,
Sheridan was particularly disgusted
with the ravages committed by the
regiment of Kansas Jay-Hawkers, and
used often to denounce them in un
measured terms. He was so much
embittered against the regiment and
opposed to their style of warfare, that,
when Gen. Blunt ordered him to im
press a large amount of proVender
from the citizens, he replied in any
thing but decorous terms, declining
co execute the order, and intimated in

conclusion that ' He'd be damned if he
was a Jay-Hawker.' Blunt, of course,
relieved him. Sheridan reported to
Halleck; The letter was forwarded as
eAridence against him, and fell into
Halleck's hands. That officer, having
a just appreciation of a good joke,
laughed heartily over the letter; and,
sharing Sheridan's prejudices against
' Jay - Hawking' and 'bummers,' he
caused the charges to be withdrawn,
and in May, 1862, ordered him to duty
on his own staff as Acting Chief Quar
ter-master. Halleck was then before
Corinth, and thither Sheridan repaired
to find himself suddenly and unexpect
edly transferred from the regular to the
volunteer service, as Colonel of the
Second Michigan cavalry.'1
Sheridan was now placed in a posi
tion where his ambition for active ser
vice and his constitutional inclination
for hard and constant fighting might
be fully gratified. The war in the
South-west, in Northern Mississippi,
and Alabama, after the battle of Shiloh,
was to be pushed with spirit ; and the
Cavalry, unhappily discredited at the*
beginning of the struggle, was to be,
as the area widened, in constant de
mand in protecting outposts, cutting
the enemy's extended lines of commu
nication, penetrating his vast territory
in destructive raids, and bearing its full
proportion of military duty in concert
with the armies in the field. In all
these services Sheridan was conspicu
ous. In the Cavalry movements pre
ceding and following the capture of
Corinth in the summer of 1862, in con
flict with the rebel Forrest, at Boones-
ville in July, defeating Chalmers, ever
eager fo^* battle, he was every where

574

PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.

prompt and efficient. For his strategy
and success in the last mentioned en
gagement, Gen. Grant brought him to
the notice of the War Department, and
he was promoted Brigadier-General of
Volunteers. In this new sphere of
duty, Gen. Sheridan was employed in
the autumn of 1862 in command of the
Third Division of the Army of the
Ohio under Gen. Buell, in his marches
through Kentucky during the invasion
of that State by the Confederate Gen.
Bragg. At the battle of Perryville, in
October, he rendered distinguished ser
vice in maintaining his lines firmly
against the attack of the enemy. In
the subsequent re-organization of the
forces under Gen. Rosecrans, Sheridan
was assigned to the command of a Di
vision of McCook's Corps of the Army
of the Cumberland. In the advance of
Rosecrans, in December, from Nashville
upon the enemy at Murfreesboro, in the
battle of Stone River on the last day
of the year, Sheridan's command suffer
ed severely in the first onset of the
Confederates; but with his character
istic ardor and tenacity in battle, arous
ing his men by his personal enthusiasm,
he withstood as far as possible the over
whelming attack, and when his position
could no longer be sustained, fell back
in order to another portion of the line.
"Sheridan, after sustaining four suc
cessive attacks," says Gen. Rosecrans in
his report of the battle, "gradually
swung his right from a south-easterly
io north-westerly direction, repulsing
the enemy four times, losing the gallant
Gen. Sill of his right and Colonel Rob
erts of his left brigade, when, having
exhausted his ammunition — Negley's
division being in the same predicament

and very heavily pressed — after des
perate fighting, they fell back from the
position held at the commencement,
through the cedar woods, in which
Rousseau's division, with a portion of
Negley's and Sheridan's met the ad
vancing enemy, and checked his move
ments." For his gallantry in this en
gagement, Sheridan was promoted Ma
jor-General of Volunteers.
In the subsequent adA^ance of the
Army of the Cumberland, in June, 1863,
Sheridan's command bore its part in
the occupation of Chattanooga ; and in
the battle of Chickamauga, which en
sued in September, was again, as at
Stone River, compelled to bear the
brant of the engagement. Sheridan's
part in the action of the 20th is thus
related by Gen. Halleck in his report to
Congress of the year's operations : " The
attack was furiously renewed on the
morning of the 20th against our left cen
tre. Division after division was pushed
forward to resist the attacking masses
of the enemy, when, according to Gen.
Rosecran's order, Gen. Wood, overlook
ing the order to close up on Reynolds,
supposed he was to support him by
withdrawing from the line and passing
in the rear of Gen. Brannan. By this
unfortunate mistake a gap was opened
in the line of battle, of which the ene
my took instant adArantage, and strik
ing Davis in the flank and rear, threw
his whole division into confusion. Gen.
Wood claims that the orders he received
were of such a character as to leave
him no option but to obey them in the
manner he did Pouring in through
this break in our line, the enemy cut
off our right and right centre, and at
tacked Sheridan's division, which was

PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.

575

advancing to support our left. After
a gallant but fruitless effort against the
rebel torrent, he was compelled to give
way, but afterward rallied a consider
able portion of his force, and by a cir
cuitous route joined General Thomas,
who now had to breast the tide of
battle against the whole Rebel army."
In the subsequent reorganization of
the army under Gen. Grant at Chatta
nooga, Sheridan commanded a division
of Gen. Granger's corps, with which he
was prominently engaged in the bril
liant capture of Missionary Ridge, in
November. His personal share in the
gallant charge up the mountain, in
which the enemy's centre was broken
and the battle gained, is thus narrated
in the anecdotical memoir already cited.
" His men were kept in position waiting
for the signal to assault for over thirty-
six hours; and they and their leader
had grown very nervous, half fearing
the battle would be won too soon by
the others, and the chance for glory
stolen from them, when, at last, the
wished-for signal came, and away went
the assaulting columns. Gen. T. J.
Wood commanded the other, and he
and Sheridan strove with a lofty ambi
tion, in which there was nothing that a
saint could condemn, to reach the sum
mit first. Sheridan gloried in the deed.
He could not contain himself, and yet
he rode along the front line, half lead
ing, half directing his men, as clear
headed as if the cross-fire of the twenty
rebel batteries that opened upon his
men were directed against charmed
lives, and he knew them to be futile as'
against him. . During the charge he
took a canteen* of whisky from his aid,
Captain Avery, and filled a cup which
73

he carried, raised it with a gesture to
ward Bragg's head - quarters, which
were plainly visible on the mountain
crest, saying, ' How are you, Mr. Bragg?'
Before he. could drink the liquor a rifle-
ball carried away cup and beverage.
There was no time for more ; and ex
claiming, ' That's damned ungenerous !'
Sheridan spurred forward, and soon
again formed part of his front line.
His horse was killed under him, and
he led the remainder of the assault on
foot, reaching the summit with the first,
and as horses were not plentiful, on the
ridge he sprang upon one of the fifty
captured guns, swinging his sword over
his head, and shouting for joy with his
men, while at the same moment, he
poured invective after invective on the
heads of the rebels whom he was un
able to pursue. Before the battle was
ended Grant, having left his head
quarters in Orchard Knobb, rode along
the summit of the ridge, and before the
fire of the enemy had ceased he had
marked Sheridan for future use."
It was Grant's observation of our hero's
ability, of his eminent merits as a caval
ry officer, and his indomitable energy in
battle, that induced him, on his ap
pointment in the spring of 1864 to the
Chief Command of the United States
Armies, to summon Sheridan to the
Eastward to take command of the
Cavalry Corps of the Army of the Po
tomac. The end crowns the work ; and
in the closing campaign in Virginia,
Sheridan was to earn his place in the
admiration and gratitude of his coun
trymen. He was to be now on a con
spicuous field of action, in his favorite
branch of the service, acting in an in
dependent command for the most part

576

PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.

apart from his superiors. His failures,
if any, were to recoil upon himself; his
valor and ability were to secure his
reputation. Simultaneously Avith the
advance of Gen. Grant's Army in May,
Gen. Sheridan was employed in secur
ing the passage of the Rapidan to the
army by protecting its right flank. He
then started On a cavalry raid, to cut
off the enemy's communications in his
rear, and threaten the defences of Rich
mond. Freeing himself of all impedi
ments, with his command stripped to
its absolute requirements, he moved on
the 9th of May toward Fredericksburg,
and then by a Southerly course on the
road to Childsburg, and, crossing the
North Anna at Anderson's Bridge,
struck the Virginia Central Railroad at
Beaver Dam. Here an immense amount
of stores was destroyed, reported equal
to a million and a-half of rations, vari
ous railway property destroyed, and
over three hundred and fifty Union
prisoners recaptured. Moving onward
toward Richmond, more railway pro
perty and government buildings were
destroyed at Ashland Station ; and on
the llth, in an engagement with the
Confederate Gen. J. E. B. Stuart, that
distinguished officer was killed. At
Meadow Ridge, on the Chickahominy,
Sheridan again engaged the enemy, and
penetrated the defences of Richmond.
Finding himself in danger of being
surrounded, he recrossedthe Chickahom.
iny, fighting his way gallantly through
all opposition to Gaines' Mills, and
thence marching to the Potomac, which
he reached on the 13th. Next to Stone
wall Jackson, the heaAuest loss the
Virginians and Lee's Army in the State
had sustained, was that of Gen. Stuart.

Sheridan now supported the ouward
movement of Grant's Army, with his
headquarters on the Pamunkey. He
also guarded the passage of the army
in its march to the James' River.
Early in June, Sheridan was employ
ed in a second raid aimed at Gordons-
ville and Charlottesville, with the design
of cutting off Lee's supplies from, the
North and West. In this he failed of
reaching Gordonsville, but did much
damage to the enemy on the Virginia
Central Railway, which he traversed to
TreAilian's Station, where there was
some sharp fighting. Finding the ene
my in force in this quarter, he extrica
ted himself by a bold and adroit move
ment, returned to the Pamunkey, and
thence to Grant's Army, now on the
south side, of the James. During the
month of July, he was engaged in the
military operations about Petersburgh
and on the left bank of James' River.
In August he was appointed to an im
portant command by Gen. Grant, that;
of the newly-created Middle Military
Division, composed of the former de
partments of Washington, the Susque
hanna, the Shenandoah and the Middle
Department -— including, in fact, the
Valley of Virginia and the region of
the Potomac, which might become the
basis and theatre of operations of the
enemy in any further invasion of Mary
land or meditated attack upon the
Capital. It was to meet this, indeed,
that the new department was created,
for the enemy in force under Gen. Early
had invaded Maryland for the third
time the previous month of July,
ravaged Maryland to' the vicinity of
Baltimore,, compelled Gen. Lewis Wal
lace to retire in defeat from the Monoc-

PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.

577

acy River, and advanced to the vicinity
of the National Capital. Washington
indeed was safe, and the enemy retired
across the Potomac with their booty;
but before the month ended, the river
was again crossed by a portion of his
force, and the insult and alarm repeated.
Chambersburg in Pennsylvania was
burnt by a rebel force on the 30th of
July. The enemy, of course, were pur
sued, driven back or defeated, and the
successive raids directed by Early had
accomplished nothing in turning Grant
from his purposes before Richmond.
But the annoyance was great, and the
injury not inconsiderable. Gen. Ave-
rill, Gen. Kelly, and others had done
much to check these depredations ; but
more remained to be accomplished.
Under these circumstances, Gen. Grant,
as we have stated, turned to Sheridan
and organized the Middle Military Di
vision. Sheridan assumed command on the
9th of August, at Harper's Ferry, and
at once pushed his forces up the valley
after the retreating Early, who had re
tired beyond Winchester to a defensive
position in the vicinity of Strasburg.
A threatened flanking movement of the
enemy. on the east brought Sheridan
back to Harper's Ferry. A month was
passed in reconnoitering, Sheridan be
ing content with the preservation of
the line of the Potomac. At length,
on the 13th of September, after a visit
from Gen. Grant at Harper's Ferry, he
decided upon an offensive movement.
On the 19th Early's forces were in the
lowsr valley, a few miles to the east of
Winchester, at the Opequan Creek,
where they were attacked by Sheridan ;
and in the words of his dispatch to

Gen Grant, "After a most stubborn
and sanguinary engagement, which
lasted from early in the morning until
five o'clock in the evening, completely
defeated and driven through Winches
ter, with the capture of about twenty-
five hundred prisoners, five pieces of
artillery, nine army flags, and most of
their wounded." Or, as Sheridan sent
word to Gen. Stephenson at Harper's
Ferry: "We have sent the rebels
whirling through Winchester, and we
are after them to-morrow. This army
behaved splendidly." For this victory
Sheridan was appointed a brigadier in
the regular army.
The enemy now having retreated to
their old position at Fisher's Hill,
Sheridan promptly pursued them to
that stronghold, assailed them there on
the afternoon of the 20th, and again
routed them. The events of the day
were thus related by him in his dis
patch to Gen. Grant: "I have the
honor to announce that I achieved a
signal victory over the army of Gen.
Early, at Fisher's Hill. I found the
rebel army posted with its right resting
on the north fork of the Shenandoah,
and extending across the Strasburg
Valley westward to North Mountain,
occupying a position which appeared
almost impregnable. After a great deal
of maneuvering during the day, Gen.
Cook's command was transferred to the
extreme right of the line on North
Mountain, and he furiously attacked the
left of the enemy's line, carrying every
thing before him. While Cook was
driving the enemy in the greatest con
fusion, and sweeping down behind their
breastworks, the Sixth and Nineteenth
Army Corps attacked the rebel works

578

PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.

in front, and the whole army appeared
to be broken up. They fled in the ut
most confusion. Sixteen pieces of artil
lery were captured ; also a great many
caissons, artillery horses, etc., etc. I
am to-night pushing on down the
valley. I cannot say how many prison
ers I have captured, nor do I know
either my own or the enemy's casual
ties. Only darkness has saved the
whole of Early's army from total de
struction. My attack could not be
made till four o'clock in the evening,
which left but little daylight to operate
in." The pursuit by Sheridan was con
tinued up the valley, past Woodstock,
Newmarket, Harrisonburg to Port Re
public, sending detachments to de
stroy the rebel stores and communica
tions at Staunton and Waynesboro.
All this was accomplished in about ten
days. On his return down the valley
on the 7th of October, at Woodstock
he reported to Gen. Grant the result of
his rapid march. It will be seen that
he was making war in earnest. "In
moving back to this point," said he,
"the whole country, from the Blue
Ridge to the North Mountain has been
made entirely untenable for a rebel
army. I have destroyed over 2,000
barns filled with wheat and hay and
farming implements, and over 70 mills
filled with flour and wheat ; have
driven in front of the army over 4,000
head of stock, and have killed and
issued to the troops not less than 3,000
sheep. This destruction embraces the
Luray Valley and the Little Fort Val
ley, as well as the main valley. A
large number of horses have been ob
tained, a proper estimate of which I

cannot now make. Lieutenant John R.
Meigs, my engineer officer, was mur
dered beyond Harrisonburg, near Day
ton. For this atrocious act all the
houses within an area of five miles
were burned. Since I came into the
valley from Harper's Ferry, every train,
every small party, and every straggler
has been buslrwliacked by the people,
many of whom have protection-passes
from commanders who have been hith
erto in that valley. The people here
are getting sick of the war. Hereto
fore they have had no reason to com
plain, because they have been living in
great abundance."
The sequel to this dispatch was
Sheridan's report at Strasburg on the
9th, of an action the previous day vrith
a body of pursuing cavalry, of which
he made quick work. " In coming back
to this point," he wrote, " I was not fol
lowed up until late yesterday, when a
large force of cavalry appeared in my
rear. I then halted my command to
offer battle by attacking the enemy. I
became satisfied that it was only all
the rebel cavalry of the valley, com
manded by Rosser, and directed . Tor
bert to attack at daylight this morning
and finish this ' savior of the valley.'
The attack was handsomely made. The
enemy, after, being charged by our gal
lant cavalry, were broken and ran.
They were followed by our men on the
jump twenty-six miles through Mount
Jackson and across the north fork oJ
the Shenandoah. I deem it best to
make this delay of one day here, and
settle the war cavalry general."
There was yet more fighting on the
12th, Early having again brought his
force up the A'alley to an assault on the

PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.

579

Union line established at Cedar Creek,
covering the approach to Winchester
and the Manassas Gap railroad, which
Sheridan had put in repair to receive
his supplies from Washington. The
attack was repulsed and the enemy
pursued. After this Sheridan paid a
flying visit to Washington, and before
his return Early, reinforced by a large
body of troops, issued from his camp
on Fisher's Hill, and approaching the
Union lines with great adroitness by a
stealthy night-march, on the morning
of the 19th struck the left flank of the
Union army. The troops were taken
by surprise, and forced back in confu
sion on the road to Winchester. Hap
pily Sheridan, on his return to his
army, was at his place in time to wit
ness the plighf, and to repair in the
afternoon the disaster of the morning.
" I have the honor to report," says he,
in a dispatch to Gen. Grant, dated Ce
dar Creek at 10 p. m. on the day of
battle, "that my army at Cedar Creek
was attacked this morning before day
light, and my left was turned and driven
in confusion. In fact, most of the line
was driven in confusion, with a loss of
twenty pieces of artillery. I hastened
from Winchester, where I was, on my
return from Washington, and found
the armies between Middletown and
Newtown, having been driven back
about four miles. I here took the affair
in hand, and quickly united the corps,
formed a compact line of battle just in
time to repulse an attack of the en
emy, which was handsomely done at
about 1 p. m. At 3 p. m., after some
changes of the cavalry from the left to
the right flank, I attacked with great
vigor, driving and routing the enemy,

capturing, -according to the last report,
forty-three pieces of artillery and very
many prisoners. * * Affairs at times,
looked badly, but by the gallantry of
our brave officers and men disaster has
been converted into a splendid victory.
Darkness again intervened to shut off
greater results. I now occupy Stras
burg." On receipt of the news of his vic
tory, Gen. Grant, on the 20th, sent this
dispatch to Secretary Stanton : " I had
a salute of 100 guns from each of the
armies here fired in honor of Sheridan's
last \rictory. Turning what bid fair to
be a disaster into a glorious victory
stamps Sheridan what I always thought
him — one of the ablest of generals."
President Lincoln also addressed a
letter of congratulation to Sheridan.
" With great pleasure," he wrote, " I
tender to you and your brave army
the thanks of the nation, and my own
personal admiration and gratitude, for
the month's operations in the Shenan
doah Valley, and especially for the
splendid work of October 19th." In
November, on the resignation of Gen.
McClellan as Major-General in the regu
lar army, Sheridan, in acknowledgment
of his services, was appointed to fill
the vacancy.
There were many anecdotes told of
Sheridan's enthusiastic energy in rally
ing his retreating force, simply express
ed by himself in the phrase of his dis
patch : "I here took the affair in
hand." It is admitted on all hands
that on coming upon the field from
Winchester he met his disordered fugi
tives with even more than his usual
force ot speech, rich as it usually was,
at a crisis, in novel expressions of ad-

580

PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.

juration. One of his own officers, Cap
tain De Forest, has described the scene :
"It was near two o'clock," says he,
" when Sheridan Came up the pike at a
three-minutes trot, swinging his cap,
and shouting to the stragglers; 'Face
the other way, boys. We are going
back to our camps. We are going to
lick them out of their boots.' The
wounded by the roadside raised their
hoarse voices to shout ; the great army
of fugitives turned about at sight of
him, and followed him back to the
front; they followed him back to the
slaughter as hounds follow their mas
ter. The moment he reached the army
he ordered it to face about, form line,
and advance to the position which it
had last quitted. Then for two hours
he rode along the front, studying the
ground and encouraging the men.
' Boys, if I had been here, this never
should have happened,' he said in his
animated, earnest way. ' I tell you it
never should have happened. And
now we are going back to our camps.
We are going to get a twist on them.
We are going to lick them out of their
boots.' Of all retrieved battles, in all
history that I can remember, this one, it
seems to me, is the most remarkable."*
The lower valley was now free from
any further advance of the army of
Early. There was mnch occasional
skirmishing in the valley, however, and
frequent annoyance from guerrillas
which called for the strict enforcement

* Sheridan's Victory of Middletown. Harper's New
Monthly Magazine, Feb., 1865.

of military law. After several months
passed in this way, Sheridan in March,
1865, moved up the valley with his
cavalry force of about fifteen thousand,
"the finest single body," it is said, " of
mounted troops ever assembled on this
continent," captured Staunton, again
defeated Early at Waynesboro, occu
pied Charlottesville, and sent a force in
the rear of Richmond to destroy the rail
way and canal communications of the
devoted city. The end was now rapid
ly approaching, and Sheridan was ac
tively engaged with Grant's army to
the last At the close of March, he
Was sent with his cavalry south of Pe-
tersburgh to Dinwiddie Court-House to
co-operate with the Fifth Corps in the
seizure of the South Side Railroad.
This was accomplished in the battle of
Five Forks on the 1st of April. In
this and the succeeding final move
ments, Sheridan bore a prominent part.
It was his command which, in the pur
suit and operations about Appomattox
Court-House, brought the fugitive Lee
with his army to a surrender. The
war in the East being now ended,
Sheridan was sent to Texas to close the
contest in that quarter; but his mili
tary preparations were sufficient; the
enemy laid down their arms without
further warfare. The struggle being
over. Gen. Sheridan was retained in
this region as commander of the mili
tary division of the Gulf, embracing
the departments of Florida Mississippi,
Louisiana, and Texas.

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36im.ami.yij &Co PnliliEh.ei-B, WerarYork.
•'^'^""^^a4^^¦rh^l^A)ll!a-fy.7,^^m/^t,^mlA,u^^rb^ff^^ra4¦J^I>^ 

JOHN ALEXANDER LOGAN.

MAjor-General Logan of the Vol-'
unteer Service -of the XJnited States, in
the recent war for the Union, was born
near the present town of Murphysboro'
in the county of JacksOn, Illinois, Feb
ruary 9, 1826. His father Dr. John
Logan, emigrated from Ireland and set
tled in Illinois, in 1823. He married
Elizabeth Jenkins of Tennessee. John
Alexander, the subject of this notice,
was the first bo.rn of their family of
eleven children. His early education
was scanty, according to the limited
opportunities of instruction at that day
afforded in the district in which he re
sided. But the education of a Western
youth is fed by more influences than
those which distil from the school-house
or the academy. Vigor and self-reli
ance of character, the power to endure
hardships, and the will to- overcome
them, are natural products of the re
gion; and at this native, school young
Logan graduated with the ability of a
vigorous manhood: The call to arms
in-.- 1846/ -in the conflict with Mexico,
was an appeal to the ardent suscepti
bilities of the young man — he was then
but twenty — which he welcomed with
enthusiasm. He at once volunteered,
and was elected lieutenant in a com
pany of the First Regiment Hlinois
Volunteers. He served faithfully in
581

the war, and at its close returned to
Illinois to engage in the study of the
law as his profession for life. In 1849,
he -was elected Clerk of his native
county. He pursued his legal studies'
the following year at Louisville, Ken
tucky, and in 1851 was admitted to the
bar. Commencing the practice of the
law at his home in Illinois with his un
cle Alexander M. Jenkins, he speedily
attained success in the profession;
while his ready tactj his personal en
thusiasm, and ability in public speak
ing, notable even among the fluent
speakers of the West,- secured him an
eminent degree of. popularity, and
marked him out as a man likely <*, ^e
distinguished in public life. In 18? 2,
he was elected Prosecuting Attorney of
the Illinois Third Judicial .District.
He now made his residence at Benton,
Franklin county, and, a member of the
Democratic party, was elected, also, in
1852, representative of Franklin and
Jackson counties in the State Legisla
ture. In 1856, he was appointed Presi
dential Elector, and was again elected to
the Legislature. In 1858, and again in
1860, he was elected a Representative
in Congress by the democrats of his
district. A crisis was now approach
ing in political affairs; Logan sided
with the Douglas party in his native

582

JOHN ALEXANDER LOGAN.

State, and was prepared to take national
ground should the authority or integ
rity of the nation be assailec, as was
threatened in the speeches of the South
ern members of Congress. Conscious
of the coming storm, at a gathering of
his political friends in Illinois, in Oc
tober, 1860, he deprecated the election
of Abraham Lincoln ; " but," said he,
" if Mr. Lincoln shall be elected, I will
shoulder a musket to have him inaugu-
rated."* The declaration was prescient of the
political result, of the national resolve,
and the speaker's part in the inevitable
conflict. He was in his seat at the
special session of Congress which as
sembled at the summons of President
Lincoln. in July, 1861, and at the going
forth of the national army from the
Capital to meet the enemy at Manassas,
unable to resist the call to battle, left
debate to shoulder a musket in the
field. He joined Colonel Richardson's
regiment of Michigan Volunteers on
the march, and fought gallantly in the
action at Bull Run. In August, he
returned home at Marion, Williamson
county, Illinois, and in an eloquent ad
dress, in which he declared his resolu
tion to enter the service of his country
in maintaining " the old blood-stained
flag over every foot of soil in the
United States," summoned his fellow
citizens to the field. In the short time
of two weeks in September a regiment
was formed, of which Logan was chosen
Colonel. He was attached to Gen.
McClernand's Brigade, and fought his
first battle with that officer in the
arduous engagement at Belmont, in

* A biography of Gen. Logan in the United States
Service Magazine for July, 1865.

November. He was among the fore
most in the front ; his horse was shot
under him, and his pistol at his side was
shattered by a bullet. In the official
report of the action by Gen. McCler
nand, Logan's name is more than once
mentioned in connection with impor
tant movements in the field, both on
the advance and in the retreat. " Col.
Logan's admirable tactics," says he,
" not only foiled the frequent attempts
of the enemy to flank him, but seemed
a steady advance towards the enemy's
camp." In the various accounts of the
battle which were published after the
event, Logan's gallantry is recorded —
an earnest of his conduct in the many
sharp campaigns of the South-west
through which he resolutely fought to
the triumphant close of the war.
In the period of active service which
ensued in the campaigns of Gen. Grant
in Tennessee, at Fort Henry, and Fort
Donelson, Logan was conspicuously en
gaged at the head of his regiment. In
one of the assaults at the capture of
the latter while rallying his men, he
was severely wounded by a musket-ball
in the left arm and shoulder, and also
in the thigh, and was compelled by
this disaster to leave the army for his
home in Illinois. His life was for a
time despaired of; but in April we
find him in the field again with Gen.
Grant in Tennessee, promoted for his
gallantry to Brigadier-General of Vol
unteers. In this capacity he took part
in the advance upon Corinth, and was
employed during the remainder of the
year in the military movements on the
Mississippi border, for his services in
which he was again promoted Major-
General of Volunteer- He was now

JOHN ALEXANDER LOGAN.

583

assigned to the command of the Third
Division of the Seventeenth Army
Corps, commanded by MajOr-Gen. Mc
Pherson. To serve with this distin
guished officer, one of the most accom
plished generals of the war, was a
guarantee for the highest military effici
ency on the part of his division-com
manders; of skill, vigilance, activity,
and daring on the field. The time had
now come when all these qualities were
to be in requisition, and exemplified in
many an arduous battle. The spring
of 1863 saw McPherson's corps in mo
tion, in conjunction with the forces of
Gen. Grant on the Mississippi River
before Vicksburg. When it Avas re
solved to effect a lodgment on the river
below the city, to carry out the grand
flank movement which resulted in the
close investmet of the place on the
rear and the ultimate success of the
campaign, Logan's brigade was among
the foremost on the march on the right
bank of the river to the crossing at
Bruinsburgh, and with the rest of Mc
Pherson's corps was distinguished at
Fort Gibson, at Raymond, where he
bore the brunt of the engagement, at
Jackson, and in the decisive action at
Champion's Hill. McPherson's corps
held the centre of the lines before the
city during the siege, and Logan's di
vision the centre of the corps. He had
his full share of the hard fighting
which terminated the siege, entered the
city with the advance, and was ap
pointed its military governor.
Being now for a short time relieved
by the close of the campaign from ac
tive military duty, Gen. Logan visited
the North and West, and rendered emi
nent service to the countiy by his elo-
74

quent public speeches at various places
in favor of a vigorous prosecution of
the war. At the end of this year,
1863, when Geni Grant Avas assigned
to the command of the Military Divis
ion of the Mississippi, and Gen. Sher
man to the Army of the Tennessee.
Major-Gen. Logan received the com
mand of the Fifteenth Army Corps.
Still serving under McPherson, who
had the command of the right wing of
Sherman's grand army in his advance
to Atlanta, in the summer of 1864, he
was engaged in the heaviest fighting of
the campaign at Resaca, Dallas, Kene-
saw Mountain, and the other battle
grounds on this severely - contested
march. In the official report of these
operations, Gen. Logan is frequently
mentioned with recognition of his ser
vices. In the engagement at the vicin
ity of Decatur, on the fall of his super
ior officer, Gen. McPherson, Logan
was ordered by Gen. Sherman to the
command of the Army of the Tennes
see while the whole line was engaged
in battle. He re-animated the conflict
with his accustomed ardour, urging on
the troops to victory Avith the cry,
"McPherson and Revenge !" To the
part borne in the action of the day,
the 22d of July, by Gen. Logan, -we
have this honorable tribute in the re
port of Sherman : " The sudden death
of McPherson," he writes, "devolved
the command of the Army of the Ten
nessee on the no less brave and gallant
Gen. Logan, who nobly sustained his
reputation and that of his veteran
army, and avenged the death of his
comrade and commander." Gen. Logan
computed the dead left on the field by
the enemy at three thousand two hun-

584

JOHN ALEXANDER LOGAN.

dred and forty, of which number two
thousand twO hundred were from actual
count. .Atlanta being gained in September
and the army in that quarter temporari
ly at rest, Gen. Logan was again em
ployed in the West, "taking the
stump" in the political "campaign"
which secured the re-election of Abra
ham Lincoln to the Presidency. Al
ways an effective, popular speaker, his
eloquence, at this period of the war,
had the flavor and authority of his ac
tual experience on the field. The West,
which had supported the struggle so
nobly with meU and treasure, was not
likely, at such a crisis, on the eve of
final victory to listen with indifference
to the stirring words of so distinguished
a soldier, the peculiar growth of her
own soil. The speaker was received
with enthusiasm^ and did good service
to the cause he advocated. Before his
tour was accomplished, Gen. Sherman
was on his grand march to the sea
board ; but Logan joined him at Savan
nah, and accompanied him, carrying his
command through the Carolinas to the
triumphant end of this the last cam
paign of the West. The close of the
military operations saw Gen. Logan in
command of the Army, of Tennessee.
"The character of Logan," • says a
Avriter to whom we have been indebted
for many of the facts of this notice,
"may be summed up in few words.
He has a large mind, stored with liber
al views. He has a heart open to acts

of the rarest generosity. He never in
tentionally injured a man in his life.
He is a forgiving enemy, only implaca
ble when basely wronged. He is the
idol of his soldiers. He talks to them
and mingles with them, and shakes
hands with them. Physically, he is
one of the finest-looking officers in the
army. A deep and fierce black eye,
heavy black mustache, black hair, and
very dark complexion, give him a terri
ble look when aroused. Broad shoul
ders, well set on a muscular frame, give
him the appearance of a man of great
power. He wears usually a broad-
brimmed black felt hat, plain major
general's coat, and blue pantaloons
stuck in his boots. He has not the
prim appearance of a military dandy ;
in fact, he looks the citizen soldier all
over. Judging from appearances, one
would suppose that he left his home in
a hurry to attend to some business
which he had not quite finished.
Mounted and in battle, there are few
in the army who so nearly realize the
idea of a great warrior.
'"The men of the West will hew
their way to the Gulf,' exclaimed Lo
gan in one of his speeches in the be
ginning of the war. How nobly they
have carried out this prophecy ! — and
chief among the leaders to this grand
consummation stands Major-Gen. John
A. Logan, the orator and the soldier,
the constant friend of the Government,
and one of its noblest citizens."

Fro??ht/i0 rj//:///i/jJ p,u/iS//7^ by Fu^/ i/istfta p./ssr./s /*./?.¦ .or F?^ /7/F; a./- £*'/"¦¦/
Juhiii;o:n,il'ry a Co 'Pninj^'luu's, Nuw York.

asMrdiay fo u. 7 e/~ ffaw'v.t A /J.f/ftiA' ay ./ti/tstu.

JAMES BIRDSEYE MoPHERSON.

McPherson was one of those consum
mate soldiers of the war for the Union
whose career in public and character in
private, whose outer and inner life, may
be studied with the closest scrutiny,
with the certainty that the result of the
investigation, will place him foremOst
among the representative men of his
race and: country. He was in truth a
noble prod uct of our American civili
zation, a man to whom, duty was ever
a watchword, and who in its perform
ance, by a happy constitution Of nature,
cultured by science, outstripping the
command of others, imposing new laws
upon himself, accomplished those mar
vels of military siiccess which secured
him rapid promotion and his distin
guished place as a leader in the army
of the Republic. Prompt, fearless-
magnanimous, unwearied in the attain
ment -of honorable ends bv honorable
means, he was beloved by his friends,
respected by his foes, and dying on the
field at the culmination of an heroic
campaign, the success Of which was
greatly dependent upon his exertions,
he has left a name for the admiration of
his countrymen, which the bare recital
of his own acts would; sufficiently cele
brate, but which has the additional
glory of the heartfelt commemoration
«and eulogy of the two greatest com

manders of the Avar, Grant and Sher
man, to whose achievirients he~so great
ly contributed,' whose friendship -he so
intimately shared. ....
James Birdseye McPherson was born
in Sandusky county, Ohio, on the. 14th
of NoArember, 1828. Of a sound,
strong constitution, and mental capac
ity improved byestudy and strengthen
ed by the experiences of Western life,
he entered the Military Academy at
West Point at the mature age of twen
ty-one, prosecuted with zeal and dili
gence- the studies of the place; was an
adept, in every manly art; secured at
once the highest honors, of the institu
tion, and after being three years- at the
head of his class, graduated with that
distinction in July, 1853, when he en
tered the service as Brevet : Second-
Lieutenant of the Corps of Engineers.
He was at once, an unusual honor, ap
pointed Assistant Instructor of practi
cal engineering at the/Academy, and
held the position until September of
the following- year. He: was now pro
moted to a full Second-Lieutenant of
Engineers, and in this capacity served
as Assistant -Engineer, in the construc
tion of forts in the harbor of New
York. After: two years spent in this
manner, he was similarly employed in
charge of the construction of Fcrt Del a
585

586

JAMES BIRDSEYE MoPHERSON.

ware, Delaware River, and in 1857 was
sent to California to erect fortifications
in the bay of San Francisco. In 1858
he Avas promoted First-Lieutenant. In
1861 he was transferred from the Pa
cific, where he had also been engaged
in the coast survey, to take charge of
the fortifications of Boston harbor. He
was thus employed in a constant suc
cession of engineering duties, which an
officer of the highest abilty may dis
charge for a life-time without greatly
attracting the notice of the public, un
til the breaking out of the recent civil
war, Avhen, having been promoted to a
Captaincy in the Engineers on the ap
pointment of Major-Gen. Halleck to
the command of the Department of
the West, he was, in November, 1861,
ordered to report to that officer at St.
Louis as Aid-de-Camp with the rank of
Lieutenant-Colonel conferred upon him
by President Lincoln. He had been
for several months employed on engi
neering duty in Missouri, and inspect
ing the various commands, when he
was sent to aid Gen. Grant in his oper
ations in Tennessee against Fort Henry
and Donelson. There he rendered emi
nent services, and was rewarded by the
rank of Brevet Major of Engineers.
He continued to be employed in the
movements on the Tennessee River,
where he was associated with Gen.
Sherman, then commanding a division
in reconnoitering the country about
Pittsburg Landing. Of that time Sher
man writes : " McPherson was always
with me, and I then appreciated his
cheerful spirit, his quick military eye
and perception, and our association was
more than friendly." McPherson re
mained with Grant through the spring

of 1862, in the capacity of staff officer,
until after the battle of Shiloh; for
his services in which engagement he
was brevetted Lieutenant-Colonel of
Engineers, and was similarly employed
in the operations against Corinth by
Gen. Halleck on his succeeding to the
command. " He was," says Gen. Sher
man in the interesting narrative already
cited, and to which we shall have occa
sion in this brief narrative constantly
to refer, " one of the most useful staff-
officers in the whole army, riding night
and day, sometimes with a single order
ly and sometimes alone. I think ho
knew more of the lay of the ground
and of the roads of the country around
Corinth than any officer of the army."
On the occupation of Corinth, McPher
son was placed in charge, by Gen. Hal
leck, of the railroad centering at that
place. In May, 1862, he was appoint
ed Brigadier-General of Volunteers.
He remained in the Department of
West Tennessee during the summer
and autumn of that year, distinguish
ing himself by his active movements
in the defence of Corinth against Gen.
Price in October; in' recognition for
which important ser \Tices he was promot
ed Major-General of Volunteers. In the
subsequent operations about Holly
Springs, and elsewhere' in Northern
Mississippi, he was equally distinguish
ed by his successful strategy. His
efficiency in command of a division, re
lying on his own resources, exhibited
the capacity of an accomplished gen
eral. He Avas consequently, in future
greatly relied upon by Gen. Grant, who
never failed to appreciate the worth of
his officers, and Avas placed by him in,
the most responsible positions.

JAMES BIRDSEYE McPHEESON.

587

In December, 1862, the forces of
Gen. Grant were reorganized in four
distinct Army Corps, the command of
one of which, the Seventeenth of the
National Army, was assigned to Mc
Pherson. It Avas composed of three
divisions. With this command Mc
Pherson took the field with Gen: Grant
in his operations on the Mississippi
River before Vicksburg, in the spring
of 1863. In the movement to a point
below Vicksburg, in 'April, McPher
son's corps crossed the river in time to
take part in the battle at Port Gibson,
Avhere, in the words of Gen. Grant, " it
was under his direction that the enemy
was driven, late in the afternoon, from
a position they had succeeded in hold
ing all day against an obstinate attack.
His corps, the advance always under
his immediate eye, were the pioneers in
the movement from Port Gibson to
Hawkinson's Ferry. From the north
fork of the Bayou Pierre to Black
River it was a constant skirmish, the
whole skillfully managed. The enemy
was so closely pressed as to be unable
to destroy their bridge of boats after
them. From Hawkinson's Ferry to
Jackson, the Seventeenth Army Corps
marched on roads not touvelled by their
troops, fighting the entire battle- of
Raymond alone; and the bulk of
Johnston's army was fought by this
corps, entirely under the management
of Gen. McPherson. At Champion's
Hill, the Seventeenth Corps and Gen.
M Pherson were conspicuous. All that
could be termed a battle there, was
fougit by the divisions of Gen. Mc
Pherson's corps and Gen. Hovey's di
vision of the Thirteenth Corps, In
the assault of the 22d of May on the

fortifications of Vicksburg, and during
the entire siege, Gen. McPherson and
his command took unfading laurels
He is one of the ablest engineers and
most skillful generals." Such was the
discrimination and eulogy of Gen.
Grant in recording the actions and
presenting the claims of his friend to
the notice of the Department for pro
motion to the rank of Brigadier-Gen
eral in the Regular Army, which was
awarded him before the close of the
year. McPherson led his division victorious
into conquered Vicksburg on the 4th
of July, and in the distribution of
Grant's army, consequent on that event,
was left to hold the place and keep the
surrounding country clear of the en
emy. This he accomplished with his
usual judgment and energy, erecting
new works at the city, treating the in
habitants with courtesy and, when
necessary, firmness; and superintend
ing his extended military department
on the Mississippi, till, in February,
1864, he again took the field in com
mand of the right wing of Gen. Sher
man's force in his march to Meridian.
" There again," says Sherman, " we were
brought very closely into contact, and
I had renewed reason to appreciate the
care and precision of all his arrange
ments, as well as his high social quali
ties." In March, when Gen. Grant was
summoned to the East to take com
mand of the National forces, Sherman
succeeded to Grant's command of the
division in Mississippi, and McPherson
was caled into active service in com
mand of Sherman's late Department of
the Tennessee. The army of which
McPherson was now placed at the head,

538

JAMES BIRDSEYE MoPHERSON.

embraced three Army Corps. This ap-
¦pointment gave him the opportunity
which he coveted, of taking the field
in the coming decisive campaign which
resulted in the capture of Atlanta.
The history of this march, with re
ference to the special part borne in it
by Gen. McPherson, with its' 'melan
choly sequel in the death of that offi
cer, is thus related by Gen. Sherman in
the personal narrative already spoken
of: " McPherson," says he, " hastened
to his command at Huntsville in the
month of April, 1863, and at once ad
dressed himself to the task of making
that army mobile — capable of rapid
movements and the most desperate
fighting. He commanded the ' right
wing of the grand army from that
time until his death. It moved along
the railroad substantially from Hunts
ville to Chattanooga, thence diverging
to the right through La'Fayette,. Ship's
Gap, Snake Gap, to Resaca. In spite
of all his efforts, he was compelled to
take the field 'with two divisions less
than our calculations, by reason bf the
veteran troops being then on furlough ;
and it was not until "the whole, army
had advanced southward as far as Ack
worth, that the "two divisions, Constitu
ting the Seventeenth Army Corps,
overtook" us and formed a part of the
main army. In that campaign,, Mc
Pherson's task was to throw his army
between the railroad and Johnston's
army, lying at Dalton, and his line of
retreat along the Georgia railroad.
McPherson moved rapidly, and secured
Snake Creek Gap, which was of vast
importance to us, and shoved out
against Resaca. But in his judgment
Resaca was too strong to be carried by

a sudden coup de mam, and he obeyed
his orders to draw back four or five
miles, to Snake Creek Gap> make it Se
cure, and wait for , orders. I then
threw the whole army from Snake
Creek Gap, fought the battle of Resa
ca, and pursued the enemy along down
the railroad to Kingston and Cassville,
McPherson forming the right. The
enemy continued his retreat rapidly
through Allatoona Pass. I halted
about Kingston, and then sent McPher
son rapidly round by the road from
Van Wirt to Dallas, taking the inter
mediate route with the rest of the army.
Johnston threw himself to Dallas, and
made an attempt to strike McPherson
while six miles of interval lay between
him and my main army. McPherson's
vigilance and quickness of perception
enabled him to force Johnston to attack
him, whereby the enemy lost A-ery
heavily to our comparatively light loss.
This, in truth, was the grand tactics of
that campaign ; namely, while we were
on the offensive, in a very difficult
country, to avoid, as far as possible,
ourselves attacking the enemy in posi
tions strengthened by field-works of
yery rapid and very easy construction,
and by a part of our army to watch
his lines, expose an inferior force, invite
attack, and punish the assailants, where
by their losses constantly exceeded ours.
This called for subordinate commanders
of no common kind ; for it requires a
good deal of nerve for a junior officer
to receive the attack of a superior force
and appreciate the reasons for so doing.
McPherson did this perfectly, and his
affair at Dallas was probably the best
illustration of the value of that kind of
strategy.

JAMES BIRDSEYE MoPHERSON.

589

"McPherson having met and repuls-
ed^the attack made on him atDallas^ I
closed in with the main army, and, then
maneuvered with my left flank (Scho-
field's) until I got possession of the. rail
road at Ackworth and secured all the
Way behind, namely, Allatoona: Pass.
Here I threw McPherson to my left on
the direct Marietta road, threAV Seho-
field away off to. the right; keeping
Thomas; who had the strongest army;
as a centre. McPherson pushed his
operations directly against the enemy's
prepared lines, on the Kenesaw, and by
several well-directed and well-conducted
attacks, carried in succession every
thing belongingto the enemy, save the
inaccessible mountain known as Kene-
With the rest of the army I ma>

saw.

neuvered gradually round Kenesaw,:so
as to force him to leave every thing
but Kenesaw.' Then substituting a
light cavalry force in lieu of McPher^
son's whole line, I threw his whole
army rapidly away round by, the: right
rear towards the bridge across the
Chattahoochie, above the i. mouth '. of
Nickajack Creek. This called for the
same kind of exposure, and intelligence
as the Dallas move. McPherson: ful
filled it admirably, and Johnston there
by was forced to retreat across the
Chattahoochie, giving us absolute con
trol Of most valuable ground and forti
fications, constructed by him at va^t ex
pense of money and labor. This move
ment induced the soldiers to style the
army of the Tennessee (McPherson's)
the ' whip-lash' of the army. After
wards I shifted him away to the left
again, to Roswell, crossing eighteen
miles above the railroad bridge. As
Boon as all things were ready, I direct

ed McPherson to move out boldly and
make a1 lodgment on the railroad east
of Decatur. This he also accomplished
skillfully and, well. HaA7ing crossed
the whole army over the Chattahoochie,
we moved steadily down. towards At
lanta,:, occupying the left of the . line,
and following substantially the railroad
from the east into Atlanta. The dis
position of the troops, was the Fifteenth
Corps On the right,; Seventeenth Corps
on the left,, and the Sixteenth Corps
(Dodge's) following in reserve on the
railroad, with orders toj break up and
destroy every bar of iron on that road.
On the 20th of July, 1864, I detached
Garrard's cavalry, which had been
operating with . McPherson up to that
time, still further to the east on that
road, to break up two very large and
important bridges near Covington ; in
tending, asispon.as the road eastward
from Atlanta Avas sufficiently disabled,
to throw McPherson's Avhole army, by
the right rear again below Atlanta, so
as to isolate the town and compel its
evacuation Avithout a battle. McPher
son. Avas duly notified, that the cavalry
had been sent to the rear; and. that he
would have to guard that .flank with
infantry alone, which, was a very diffi
cult and rather:; dangerous, step. Still,
as always, he did not; complain, but
adapted himself to the situation. Mov
ing along the railroad steadily, in con*
nection with the. rest of the. army, .he
had placed the Seventeenth Corps, its
tight resting near the railroad, and its
line parallel; with the defences of At
lanta. . The Fifteenth Corps connected
with the Seventeenth, on its right
Dodge's corps was rstill following the
railroad in column; and I made a writ

590

JAMES BIRDSEYE MoPHERSON.

ten order not to extend any more to
the left, but to use this corps of Dodge
to break up the railroad absolutely up
to the very rear of the army. It seems
the night before, McPherson, in recon
noitering the ground to his left, about
three hundred yards to the front and
left of the Seventeenth Corps, found a
hill from which he had a very complete
view of the interior of the city of At
lanta. He had made preparations to
erect a battery there from which to
bombard the town, and had ordered
Dodge to oblique to his left, following
a road, which may be styled the ' wood-
road,' from the Decatur road, leading
directly to this position, a little to the
left of the Seventeenth Corps in line of
battle. When he received my orders
to employ the Sixteenth Corps (Dodge)
in destroying the railroad, instead of
reinforcing his left flank, in position,
he came in person to see me to explain
how important he viewed that position,
and asking me to allow Dodge to go
on as he had ordered him, instead of
employing him in breaking up the rail
road. To this I readily assented, only
modifying by employing the pioneers
of the whole of his army in the work
of destruction, leaving him free to use
Dodge for the purpose contemplated.
About eleven o'clock on the day of the
twenty-second, while the army was
feeling its way up to Atlanta cautious
ly, we heard more than usual firing
away oyer to the left, and McPherson
remarked that he would go over and
see if there was any thing unusual go
ing on. He mounted and rode off
with his personal staff, and about
twelve o'clock his Adjutant-General,
Lieutenant-Colonel Clark, rode back to

where I was, and exclaimed to me per
sonally that McPherson had been killed
or was a prisoner in lie hands of the
enemy. Of course I was shocked be
yond measure, and questioned him
very closely as to his reasons. He
stated that on leaving me they had
ridden down behind their lines, and
hearing the firing over on the left of
the Seventeenth Corps very heavy, he
had sent orders for certain brigades to
be drawn from the centre of his line,
to. hasten to that flank and reinforce it;
and that he had cut across by a road
with which he was very familiar, and
oyer which he had passed several times
that day, known as the wood-road, ap
proaching the left flank of the Seven
teenth Corps, which was a division
commanded by Giles Smith. The road
was completely to the rear of our line
as against Atlanta, and was used by
ambulance-wagons and soldiers going
back and forth from the front ; it being
shorter from the left flank to the wagon-
trains parked near the main road, than
to have followed the line to the main
road and back perpendicular to it. In
other words, it was a diagonal road, lead
ing from a point about four miles from
Atlanta to the left flank of the Seven
teenth Corps, about a mile south of the
main Decatur road. He rode briskly
along that road, and had sent nearly
every one of his staff-officers to differ
ent parts of his troops with orders, and
rode into the woods about a quarter of
a mile to the rear of Giles Smith's di
vision. Shortly after entering the
woods, a sharp volley was heard, and
presently his horse — a well-known black
horse which he always rode — came out
riderless and wounded in two places

JAMES BIRDSEYE MoPHERSON.

591

As soon as his staff-officers heard of it,
Colonel Strong, his inspector-general,
gathered a feAV men together and hur
ried to the spot They found him ly
ing a little way out of the road, dead.
An ambulance Avas taken there, his
body put in it, and brought to me.
Up to : that time, the firing was very
heavy where Gen. Dodge was, and also
in the direction of the Seventeenth
Corps. I directed his body to be taken
into the house known as Colonel How
ard's, and after giving the necessary
orders to meet the emergency, I went
in myself and saw his body lying 'on
the table, clothed perfectly, but per
fectly dead. Dr. Hewitt, of the army,
was near by; and I asked him to exam
ine the body. He did so, and reported
to me that one musket-shot had enter
ed his side, ranging Upward across his
body, completely traversing his lungs
and vital parts, and that life must have
been extinct within a few seconds.
About that moment the battle was
raging very heavily, and the shells and
shot reached where I was. Fearing the
house in which the remains lay would
catch fire from the bursting shells, I di
rected the body to .be put in an ambu
lance, and gave the necessary orders for
his personal staff — Major Willard, Cap
tains Giles and Steele — to take it to the
rear to some safe place. They took it
to Marietta, and thence were instructed
to take it to his home in Clyde, Ohio.
" It has been rumored and stated that
Gen. McPherson was killed through
having unduly exposed himself. This
is not so. The road by which he aimed
to reach the left and exposed flank of
his army had been travelled by him re
peatedly that day — was in use at that
75

moment, and it was the merest accident
of life that the enemy's skirmishers, in
encircling our left flank, had broken
through that particular part of our
ground at the moment of his proceed
ing along the road. It was an accident
which might have befallen me or any
most prudent Officer. No one better
than McPherson. could judge of the
points of safety and danger, and I do
not believe he apprehended danger at
the moment Of his death in the least;
for he could have reached the left flank
by avoiding the wood road, had he
chosen to do so. He merely took that
road because it was the most direct and
easy road by which he could reach the
left flank of his army, Avhich was then
engaged in heavy battle. No loss could
possibly have been more serious to us
at that moment, and as soon as the
news spread through his army, his
name was taken up as a cry, and it
stimulated all to renewed energy and
desperate fighting. McPherson was
universally beloved by his men and re
spected by all officers, many of whom
were twenty years his seniors. On
that day we aA'enged his death, for the
slaughter of the enemy exceeded any
thing I have seen during the war. Near
twenty-two hundred of the. enemy's
dead remained on the ground when
night closed upon the scene of action."
Such, in this admirable recital, were
the last services of this gallant young
officer. "Not his," Sherman had be
fore written on the field of battle to
Adjutant-General Thomas announcing
the death of his friend — " not his
the loss, but the country's;, and the
army will mourn his death and cherish
his memory as that of one who, though

592

JAMES BIRDSEYE MoPHERSON.

comparatively young, had risen by his
merit and ability to command one of
the best armies which the nation has
called into existence to defend its honor
and integrity. History tells us of but
few who so blended the grace and gen
tleness of the friend with the dignity,
courage, faithfulness, and manliness of
the soldier ; and his public enemies —
even the men who directed the fatal
shot — never spoke a word of him with
out expressions of marked respect.
Those whom he commanded loved him
even to idolatry, and I, his associate and
commander, fail in words adequate to
express my opinion of his great worth."
" McPherson," to resume the narrative
of Gen. Sherman, "was always associated
with his troops. He was hardy, young,
and strong, and shared their rations.
He never shrunk from the same ex
posures to which he was compelled to
expose others. His death was simply
an accident of war, for which he him
self was as well prepared as any man
living could have been. During our
long association, the most intimate re
lations existed between us, and he con
fided to me many of his most secret
thoughts. He dwelt upon tAvo instan
ces where he thought wrong had been
done him — the one when he was in
command at Lake Providence, La.,
where he authorized certain parties to
pick out the cotton of certain standing
fields. Some parties attributed to him
improper motives — motives of gain,
motives of interest — from which he
was as free and pure as any living mor.
tal. I do not believe McPherson ever
gained a cent, or even contemplated
such a thing, during his whole military
career.

"Again, when in command at Vicks
burg, his social nature brought him
into contact with some families who
were not prudent in restraining their
expressions of attachment to the rebel
cause. He laughed at these as the idle,
foolish nonsense of women ; while others,
catching at straws, imputed to him too
much leniency toward rebel women
and rebel people."
In his own words in a letter to Major
Gen. Cullum, dated Vicksburg, Dec.
25, 1863 : — " That rumors and reports
have been sent North, giving an ac
count of my reputed secession tenden
cies, I am well aAvare ; but I am not
going to be swerved from what I con
ceive to be my duty by all the reports
that envy, malice, and slander can sug
gest. What I have done in all cases
has been done conscientiously and with
an earnest desire to crush out the re
bellion, promote the best interests of
our country, and obey the orders of my
superiors. Many of the reports sent
North have originated with speculators,
cotton-buyers, and traitors who follow
the army, and whom I will not allow
to violate and evade orders and regula
tions with impunity. Many of these
men have been sadly disappointed in
their expectations, and in a spirit of
revenge are endeavoring to malign and
misrepresent me."
"It seems ridiculous," continues Gen
eral Sherman, " to dwell on these mat
ters, and I only do so because they
gave him some slight feeling at the
time. His patriotism was of too ex
alted a nature to be qualified by any
little seeming indulgence of the non
sense and whims of women. The peo
ple of Vicksburg, of course, were al-

JAMES BIRDSEYE MoPHERSON.

593

lied, by association and by party, with
rebel officers and rebel men, and they
naturally, had the same proclivities.
But he did not let such small matters
even engage a part of his attention.
On the contrary, his management of
affairs in Vicksburg was so open and so
manly, that hundreds and thousands of
rebels would have submitted to him
who would not have submitted gra
ciously to anybody else. His manner
was such as to attract ladies and child
ren, and with them he was a universal
favorite. But when some rebel Women
displayed a bad temper and bad sense,
in leaving a church where prayers were
offered up for the President of the
United States, he banished them from
Vicksburg, and did not allow them to
return again, though constantly impor
tuned to that end. After we had re
turned from our. Meridian trip, I re
member we found in Canton some
women whom he had banished who
desired to return. He spoke to me
about it, and I told him to use his own
discretion. " Like most young men, he was natu
rally ambitious, but. always in the. right
direction, and only solicited high com
mands to increase the sphere of his use
fulness and bring into play his quali
ties, which he knew he possessed. But
no man was ever freer from the yearn
ing desire for notoriety, which produced
so much trouble in the early part of
this war. He conceded to every body
a fair chance to make a reputation,
without envy or jealousy. It was this
quality in him that General Grant so
much admired, and which really led to
his repeated advancement. Although
his advancement placed him over the

head of others — which was calculated
to produce jealousies — no one manifest
ed such jealousy, probably, excepting
General Hamilton, who thought he
should have had a corps command at
the same time that McPherson got one,
though he never, to my knowledge,
thought he ought to have had McPher
son's corps.
" At the time I first resolved to draw
him from Vicksburg, and give him a
command at Huntsville in connection
with the army to move from Chatta
nooga, I knew that he was engaged to
be married to a young lady in Balti
more ; and I authorized him, when he
got to Cairo on his way to Huntsville,
to run to Baltimore and see his friends
there. He was very desirous to do so;
but on reaching Cairo, learning that
General Grant and I were both pushing
our preparations for the coming cam
paign, and judging naturally that we
were equally desirous to have him at
his post, he, without one word of com
plaint, dropped his visit to Baltimore
and hastened to Huntsville, where he
entered upon his duties without a mur
mur. He could not have gone to Bal
timore without losing time which Avas
very essential to us then; for it was
General Grant's purpose first to move
about the twenty-fifth of April, though
in fact we did not all get ready till the
fifth of May. Still, General McPherson
had no means of knowing that such a
delay would occur."
To this testimony of Gen. Sherman
to the merits and promise of McPher
son — he was but thirty-six at the time
of his death — we may add the discrimi
nating eulogy of another, who was his
companion and constant observer in his

594

james birdseye Mcpherson.

successive campaigns, for the lesson of
such a life cannot be too strongly incul
cated. "In summing up," says Mr.
Keim, "the character of Major-Gen.
McPherson, we find in him, as a man,
an indefatigable energy, a tireless in
dustry, and a devotion of purpose,
rarely met so strongly developed in the
same person. To this must be attri
buted his success in the mere mechani
cal affairs of life. He was also affable,
courteous, an ardent friend^ and a for
giving enemy. His mind was compre
hensive, liberal, and possessed a muscu
larity equal to the severest exertions.
In the varied accomplishments, how
ever, outside of his profession, he was
not -so remarkable. He was no orator,
nor even what might be called a speak
er. His eloquence rang in the clash of
battle. His commands upon the field
were like the victorious blasts of his
bugles; they filled the souls of his
troops with confidence and valor. I
have seen him on three occasions at
tempt to express himself before an as
semblage: once- at the presentation, (of
a cavalry equipment) in October, 1862 ;
the second time at a camp celebration
of Washington's birthday ; and the
third time, during the first visit to the
Southwest of Gen. Lorenzo Thomas on
his negro arming tour. His language
was ordinary, and his manner embar
rassed. He seemed out of his element,
and made everybody around him un
comfortable. As a writer, the general
was thoroughly a soldier. He exhibit
ed no vain array of meaningless words.
His addresses to his troops breathed
the emphasis and spirit of one who
feels Avhat he says. They conveyed
tersely and vividly what was meant.

He gave no attention to outside dash.
He wrote to his soldiers, and not to the
people. In conversation, the general
Avas at perfect ease. His words were
well chosen, and uttered in a voice
clear, distinct, and harmonious. He
was never frivolous, always imparting
something new and instructive on the
most trivial subjects. I never saw any
one who, having enjoyed a conversation
with the general, did not remark, upon
leaving him, that he was the most
agreeable person he had ever met. His
manners in social intercourse, and as
well in business, were those of an un
assuming gentleman. He was approach
able at all reasonable times, and could
be reached by private or civilian as
well as officer. His head-quarters were
always the centre of hospitality in the
army. "As an officer, in the simple vocation
of a soldier, his history will suffice to
assign him his position in the estimation
of the world. But he possessed other
qualities, which can only be seen. He
was one of the most gallant men in the
army. He had an acute sense of honor,
and has never been known to commit a
discreditable action during his whole
career. He did everything with a view
to the interests of the Government. In
the numerous temptations to specula
tion he remained uncorrupted. He
carried out the instructions of his su
periors with perfect equity and with
out regard to persons. In his dealings,
as an officer of the United States, Avith
those whose sympathies were with the
South, he was not tyrannical, but ex
pected and exacted respect for the flag
of the Government, respect for its offi
cers and soldiers, and obedience to its

JAMES BIRDSEYE MoPHERSON...

595

laws, If there was in McPherson any
fault more strongly predominant than
usually attends the fallibility of men,
it was too much bravery, or what
might be more properly termed reck
lessness. He was never conscious of
the presence of danger. ,In fact, he
seldom mentioned the subject directly.
He seemed impressed with the true
martial doctrine of fatality. He seem
ed to be ready at any time to meet his
end, in whatever shape it might pre
sent itself. He never used profane
language, and lived as much a Chris-
" tian as the opportunities of his profes
sion would admit. As illustrative of his
forgetfulness of personal hazard, I have
seen the general accompany his skirmish
line while preparing the way for a great
battle. In the heat of the fight he was
always with that portion of his lines
which were subject to the greatest pres
sure, and never left his post until as
sured of victory. He had been the
target of solitary sharpshooters, of bat
talions and batteries, but he never re
ceived a wound until he met his last,
which proved mortal.
"The personal appearance of Gen.
McPherson was highly prepossessing.
He was a trifle over six feet in height,
well formed, erect, and displayed the
thorough Scotch development of mus
cles. He had a fine face, a clear eye,
and a noble forehead. Mounted, he
was one of the finest-looking men in
the world. He was a graceful rider,
and dashed over hill and valley Avith
the true fervor of martial horseman

ship. In battle he rode a favorite
black horse — one that he had ridden in
every action since the bloody day of
Shiloh. So accustomed to the noise
and confusion of the contest had this
favorite animal become, that he was as
fearless as his master. Upon the field,
in the midst of smoke and shell, the
horse and rider seemed in their native
element. When faltering before the
overwhelming force of the enemy, the
soldiers, seeing their general in their
midst, gained new courage, turned the
tide, and invaMablj drove the enemy
from the field. McPherson never lost
a battle, because he set the example of
determination himself. All his soldiers
knew him and respected him. They
made his acquaintance on the field. I
have never heard him denounced by a
single man of his command. We might
mention other qualities, such as his
magnanimity towards the conquered,
his care for the wounded, his zeal in
the cause, his Avillingness to sacrifice
personal happiness for the claims of
duty — the most convincing evidence of
this being his postponement of his
marriage, which, unfortunately, never
took place, in consequence of his ac
tivity in the field and untimely death,
— his entire want of jealousy ; in fact,
all the virtues, and very few of the
faults, of a gentleman and an officer,
he possessed."*

* The Life and character of Major-Gen. McPherson,
by De B. Randolph Keim. United States Service
Magazine, October, 1864.

SCHUYLER COLFAX.

The Honorable Schuyler Colfax, at
.present, (1867), Speaker of the National
House of. Representatives, was bOrn at
a house in North Moore street, in the
City of New York, March 23d, 1823. He
is of worthy Revolutionary* ancestry,
his grandfather Gen. William Colfax of
New Jersey, a native of Connecticut,
.having been commissioned Lieutenant
of the Continental Army at seventeen,
and soon after selected by Washington
as Captain-commandant of the Com-
mander-inrChief 's'Guards, a position he
held. until' the disbanding of the army
in .17.83. At. the close, of the war, Cap
tain Colfax, married Hester Schuyler, a
Icousin of Gen. Philip Schuyler. For
the first child. of this ; marriage, Gen.
Washington stood . godfather, holding
-him, at the baptismal font and confer
ring on him his own name. The second
son. bore the name of; Schuyler, in hon
or of the General, which he transmitted,
his sole.l'egacy, to his son, the subject of
the present notice.
Young Colfax's school education at
New York closed with his tenth year,'
Avhen he became a merchant's • clerk.
After a year or two passed in this occu
pation, he accompanied the household
of his mother, who had married again,
to a new home in Northern Indiana,
where he Avas again employed as a
596

A few years later, at the age of
.seventeen; he ; was; appointed by the
first county auditor of St. Joseph coun
ty, his deputy, and took up his resi
dence in consequence at South Bend,
the county seat,' which became his per
manent home. Here he soon became
engaged in politics, and in 1845, editor
and proprietor of the;" St. Joseph Val
ley Register," a newspaper advocating
the principles of the Whig party, and
conducted with exemplary fidelity to
the interests of the West. At the com
mencement of this enterprize, and dur
ing its progress in his hands, Mr. Col
fax labored with . great diligence, and
successfully overcame the difficulties
usually attendant upon such a pursuit
in the country. Before he entered up
on his editorship, as well as, afterwards,
he was Senate Reporter for the State
Journal at Indianapolis, which added
a small sum to his income.
Having been brought by these occu
pations to the notice of the public, and
gained the confidence of his party, Mr.
Colfax was in 1848 sent as a delegate
to the Whig. National Convention
which nominated Gen. Taylor for the
Presidency, and was chosen Secretary
in the organization of that body. Two
years later, in 1850, he became a mem
ber of the Indiana Convention for tho

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SCHUYLER COLFAX.

597

revision of the State Constitution, and
gained much reputation in the debates
of the Assembly by his fine abilities as
a speaker and his just vieAvs of State
policy. In 1851 he was the candidate
of the Whig party for Representative
in Congress, and "stumped" the dis
trict in company with his competitor.
This exciting canvass resulted in the
defeat of Mr. Colfax by a small major
ity ; but he had proved his ability, and
aroused his party to determined action
in the future. In 1852 he was again
delegate and Secretary to the Whig
National Convention, which this time
nominated Gen. Scott for the Presiden
cy. In 1854, having been for a long
time previously an advocate of the
Free Soil principles now established in
the rising Republican party, he was
elected in that interest to the National'
House of Representatives, of which
body he has, by successive elections,
continued a member to the present
time. (1867.)
The career of Mr. Colfax in Congress
has won for him a national reputation
and constantly increasing honors. In
the memorable prolonged two month's
contest for the Speakership at the open
ing of the Thirty-fourth Congress,
which resulted in the election of Mr.
N. P. Banks, Mr. Colfax distinguished
himself by his resources and readiness
in debate, and this favorable impression
of his abilities was much increased by
the able speech which he not long after
delivered on the aggressions of the
Slave power in the treatment of the
territorial question in Kansas. Of this
speech more than half a million of
copies were circulated as a campaign
document by the Republican party in

the Presidential campaign of 1856, in
which canvass Mr. Colfax labored zeal
ously for the interests of his friend, the
candidate of the party, Mr. Fremont.
As Chairman of the House Committee
on Post Offices and Post Roads, Mr.
Colfax was of much service to the
country in the development of the
West, advocating the overland mail to
California, and being devoted to the
furtherance of the Pacific Railway. At
the meeting of the Thirty-eighth Con
gress, in December 1863, Mr. Colfax,
at the age of forty, was elected on the
first ballot Speaker of the House of
Representatives, an office the peculiar
and onerous duties of which he dis
charged with such firmness and general
efficiency as to secure his re-election to
this honorable position by the succeed
ing Congress, which began its session
in 1865.
The mental and moral habits which
have gained Mr. Colfax this eminent
distinction, are thus described by one
well acquainted Avith the man : " He is
of unwearying industry, an unparalleled
worker. His character is unsullied;
his integrity unquestioned. As a
politician, he is frank and outspoken ;
honestly entertaining his opinions and
manfully avowing them. As a states
man, he arrives at his conclusions some
what like the late President Lincoln,
by an instinctive tact of quick percep
tion, common sense, honesty, and sound
judgment. As an orator, he is clear,
direct, pleasing, persuasive, forcible;
quick in the movement of his thoughts,
rapid in his utterance, carrying his
hearers along Avith him upon the cur
rent of an irresistible fervor. When in
the summer of 1865 he crossed the con-

598

SCHUYLER COLFAX.

tinent and passed through California,
Oregon, and Washington Territory, he
was everywhere received with compli
mentary demonstrations, and called up^
on to address the assembled people."
Of these numerous efforts and the
ability which characterized them, Mr.
Bowles of the Springfield Republican,
his travelling companion, wrote : " Mr.
Colfax has freely gratified the popular
desire everywhere to listen to his voice.
No place on his route was too small, no
gathering too insignificant to be turned
off with indifference, when such hearty
greetings appealed for attention. He
has spoken, long and short, an average
of at least once a day since he left the
Missouri River, and on some days his
speeches numbered four or five. Never
much studied, they were rarely alike in
form ; never greatly elaborated, they
always reached a high level of popular
eloquence. The average quality of
excellence in all his efforts has surprized
me. I doubt if any other of our pub
lic men could speak so often and so
much, and on so various occasions suc
ceed so well in all. The characteristics
of his speaking have been practical
wisdom or good sense, entire frankness
and simplicity in the utterance of his
opinions and style of oratory, a ready
clear expression, and a steady natural
enthusiasm, which has kept his hearers
in constant sympathy with his indiArid-
uality. His speeches at Austin, Vir
ginia City, Placerville, Sacramento, San
Francisco, Portland and Olympia, may
be reckoned as his most complete, satis
factory and statesmanlike discussions.

That at the dinner table in Victoria to
his combined American and British en
tertainers, was his finest specimen of
popular eloquence; it was well con
ceived, and tasteful in thought, well
pitched, and richly sustained in ex
pression ; and his impression upon his
intelligent and critical audience was
most decided and gratifying."
Of the friendly relationship of Mr.
Colfax to President 'Lincoln, Mr. For
ney has written: "Mr. Colfax is the
embodiment of the war policy of the
Government. His sterling worth great
ly endeared him to Mr. Lincoln. No
one knew the lamented dead better
than he. There was a unity of heart
between the two, and Mr. Lincoln rare
ly took any step affecting the interests
of the nation without making his in
tentions known to and consulting with
Mr. Colfax, in whose judgment he
placed the utmost confidence. A
strong affection existed between them,
each admiring and respecting the other
for the honesty, firmness and integrity
of character which has made the names
of Abraham Lincoln and Schuyler Cob
fax household words throughout the
land." In 1868 Mr. Colfax, now an esta
Wished favorite with his party, was
nominated by the Republican Conven
tion at Chicago for the Vice-Presidency
of the United States on the ticket with
General Grant, on the fifth ballot, the
chief candidates being Senators Wade,
Fenton and Wilson. Having been duly
elected, he entered on his new duties
the ensuing 4th of March.

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