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ROLAND IN THE PEISON OF STE. PELAGIE

BY
EVARISTE CARPENTIER

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AND FAMOUS

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EDITED by
CHAPLESEnOPNE

!^^NEw~yoPK: Selmap Hess PuBUsnEP^^

PHOTOGRAVURES PRINTED ON THE
HESS PRESS.

Cppyright, 1894, by
Selmae Hess.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME VI.

SUBJECT AUTHOR PAGE
BENEDICT ARNOLD,  Edgar Fawcett,  207
PETER COOPER,  Clarence Cook,  299
CHARLOTTE CORDAY,  OHver Optic,  229
GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER,  Elbridge S. BrOoks,  391
SIR HUMPHRY DAVY,  John Timbs, F.S.A.,  277
'THOMAS ALVA EDISON,  Clarence Cook,  404
JOHN ERICSSON,  Martha J. Lamb,  . . 3-11
CYRUS w. FIELD,  Murat Halstead,  .... 354
GENERAL JOHN c. FREMONT,  Jane Marsh Parker,  340
ROBERT FULTON,  Oliver Optic,  267
WILLIAM llOyd GARRISON,  William Lloyd Garrison,  318
GENERAL CHARLES GEORGE GORDON, ... Colonel R. H. Veitch, R.E.,  384
NATHAN HALE,  Rcv. Edward Everett Hale,  212
ANDREAS llOFER, ''  246
DR. EDWARD JENNER,  John Timbs, F.S.A.,  263
ELISHA KENT KANE,  General A. W. Greely, .  325
THADDEUS KOSCIUSKO,  216
LOUIS KOSSUTH,  304
MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE,  William F. Peck,  221
FERDINAND DE LESSEPS,  Clarence Cook,  334
DAVID LIVINGSTONE,  Profcssor W. G. Blaikie, LL.D., .... 350
Letter of Affection and Advice from Livingstone to his Children,  353
QUEEN LOUISE OF PRUSSIA,  Mrs. Francis G. Faithfull,  249
MARIE ANTOINETTE,  Mrs. Octavius Freire Owen,  241
Letter to Marie Antoinette from Maria Theresa on the Duties of a Sovereign,  242
SAMUEL F. B. MORSE,  297
FLORE.MCE NIGHTINGALE,  Lizzic Alldridge,  369
DR. LOUIS PASTEUR,  Dr. Cyrus Edson,  378
MADAME ROLAND,  Ella Wheeler Wilcox, . . ... . 233
GENERAL SAN MARTIN,  Hezekiah Butterworth, . .281
HENRY M. STANLEY,  Noah Brooks,  ... 395
GEORGE STEPHENSON,  Professor C. M. Woodivard, .... 286
QUEEN VICTORIA,  Donald Macleod, D.D. ,  361
JAMES WATT,  John Timbs, F.S.A.,  256
WILLIAM WILBERFORCE,   272

Vol. VI of S Vol. Ed.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

VOLUME VI.

PHOTOGRAVURES
ILLUSTRATION ARTIST
MME. ROLAND IN THE PRISON OF STE. PELAGIE, . . . ^variste Carpentier
THE ARCH OF STEEL,  Jean Paul Laurens
CHARLOTTE CORDAY AND MARAT,  Paul-Jacques-Aim'e Baudry
MARIE ANTOINETTE,  Th'eophUe Gide
QUEEN LOUISE VISITING THE POOR,  Hugo Handler
THE FIRST VACCINATION — DR. JENNER,  Georges- Gaston M'elingue
•VICTORIA GREETED AS QUEEN,  H. T. Wells
PASTEUR IN HIS LABORATORY,  Albert Edelfelt
WOOD-ENGRAVINGS AND TYPOGRAVURES
ANDREAS HOFER LED TO EXECUTION,  Franz Dcfregger
WATT DISCOVERING THE CONDENSATION OF STEAM, . . MarCUS StOne
SAMUEL F. B. MORSE, INVENTOR OF THE TELEGRAPH, . From a photograph
CUTTING THE CANAL AT PANAMA,  , . Melton Prior
WINDSOR CASTLE,  G. Montbard
GORDON ATTACKED BY EL MAHDi's ARABS,  W. H. Overend
Custer's last fight,  A. R. Ward
STANLEY SHOOTING THE RAPIDS OF THE CONGO, . . . W. H. Overend
THOMAS A. EDISON — THE WIZARD OF MENLO PARK 

TO FACE PAGE
Frontispiece 224230244250266
362380

248256298
338
364388
394
400
406

Vol. VIofSVol. Ed.

BENEDICT ARNOLD

207

BENEDICT ARNOLD*

By Edgar Fawcett

(1741-1801)

S'

u)UE of Arnold's biographers have
declared that he was a very
vicious boy, and have chiefly illus
trated this fact by painting him as a
ruthless robber of birds'-nests. But
a great many boys who began life
by robbing birds'-nests have ended it
much more creditably. The aston
ishing and interesting element in
Benedict Arnold's career was what
one might term the anomaly and
incongruity of his treason. Born at
Norwich, Conn., in 1741, he was
blessed from his earliest years by
wholesome parental influences. The
education which he received was an
excellent one, considering his co
lonial environment. Tales of his
boyish pluck and hardihood cannot
be disputed, while others that record
his youthful cruelty are doubtless the coinings of slander. It is certain that in
1755, when the conflict known as "the old French war" first broke out, he gave
marked proof of patriotism, though as vet the merest lad. Later, at the very
beginning of the Revolution, he left his thriving business as a West India mer
chant in New Haven and headed a companv of volunteers. Before the end of
1775 he had been made a commissioned colonel by the authorities of Massachu
setts, and had marched through a sally-port, capturing the fortress of Ticonde
roga, with tough old Ethan Allen at his side and 83 "Green Mountain Boys"
behind him. Later, at the siege of Quebec, he behaved with splendid courage.
Through great diffrculties and hardships he dauntlessh' led his band to the high-
perched and almost impregnable town. Pages might be filled in telling how toil
some was this campaign, now requiring canoes and bateaux, now taxing the
strength of its resolute little horde with rough rocks, delusive bogs, and all
*¦ Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

208 WORKMEN AND HEROES
those fiercest terrors of famine which lurk in a virgin wilderness. Bitter cold,
unmerciful snow-falls, drift-clogged streams, pelting storms, were constant features
of Arnold's intrepid march. When we realize the purely unselfish and disinter
ested motive of this march, which has justly been compared to that of Xenophon
with his 10,000, and to the retreat of Napoleon from Moscow as well, we stand
aghast at the possibility of its having been planned and executed by one who
afterward became the basest of traitors.
During the siege of Quebec Arnold was severely wounded, and yet he obsti
nately kept up the blockade even while he lay in the hospital, beset by obstacles,
of which bodily p^in was doubtless not the least. The arrival of General Wooster
from Montreal with reinforcements rid Arnold, however, of all responsibility.
Soon afterward the scheme of capturing Quebec and inducing the Canadas to
join the cause of the United Colonies, came to an abrupt end. But in his desire
to effect this purpose Arnold had identified himself with such lovers of their
country as Washington, Schuyler, and Montgomery. And if the gallant Mont
gomery had then survived and Arnold had been killed, history could not suf
ficiently have eulogized him as a hero. Soon afterward he vvas promoted to the
rank of brigadier-general, and on October. 11, 1776, while commanding a flotilla
of small vessels on Lake Champlain, he gained new celebrity for courage. The
enemy was greatly superior in number to Arnold's forces. "They had," says
Bancroft, " more than twice his weight of metal and twice as many fighting ves
sels, and skilled seamen and officers against landsmen." Arnold was not victo
rious in this naval fray, but again we find him full of lion-like valor. He vvas in
the Congress galley, and there with his own hands often aimed the cannon on
its bloody decks against the swarming masses of British gunboats. Arnold's
popularity was very much augmented by his fine exploits on Lake Champlain.
" With consummate address," says Sparks, " he penetrated the enemy's lines and
brought off his whole fleet, shattered and disabled as it was, and succeeded in
saving six of his vessels, and, it might be added, most of his men." Again, at
the battle of Danbury he tempted death countless times ; and at Loudon's Ferry
and Bemis's Heights his prowess and nerve were the perfection of martial merit.
It has been stated by one or two historians of good repute that Arnold was not
present at all during the battle of Saratoga ; but the latest and most trustworthy
researches on this point would seem to indicate, that he commanded there with
discretion and skill. He was now a major-general, but his irascible spirit had
previously been hurt by the tardiness with which this honor was conferred upon
him, five of his juniors having received it before himself. He strongly disliked
General Gates, too, and quarrelled with him because of what he held to be unfair
behavior during the engagement at Bemis's Heights. At Stillwater, a month or
so later in the same year (1777), he issued orders without Gates's permission, and
conducted himself on the field with a kind of mad frenzy, riding hither and
thither and seeking the most dangerous spots. All concur in stating, however,
that his disregard of life was admirable, in spite of its foolish rashness. In this
action he was also severely wounded.

BENEDICT ARNOLD 209
One year later he was appointed to the command of Philadelphia, and here
he married the daughter of a prominent citizen, Edward Shippen. This was his
second marriage ; he had been a widower for a number of years before its occur
rence, and the father of three sons. Every chance was now afforded Arnold of
wise and just rulership. In spite of past disputes and adventures not wholly
creditable, he still presented before the world a fairly clean record, and whatever
minor blemishes may have spotted his good name, these were obscured by the
almost dazzling lustre of his soldierly career. But no sooner was he installed in
his new position at Philadelphia than he began to show, with wilful perversity,
those evil impulses which thus far had remained relatively latent. Almost as
soon as he entered the town he disclosed to its citizens the most offensive traits
of arrogance and tyranny. But this was not all. Not merely was he accused
on every side of such faults as the improper issuing of passes, the closing of
Philadelphia shops on his arrival, the imposition of menial offices upon the sons
of freemen performing military duty, the use of wagons furnished by the State
for transporting private property ; but misdeeds of a far graver nature were traced
to him, savoring of the criminality that prisons are built to punish. The scandal
ous gain with which he sought to fill a spendthrift purse caused wide and vehe
ment rebuke. For a man of such high and peculiar place his commercial dab-
blings and speculative schemes argued most deplorably against him. There seems
to be no doubt that he made personal use of the public moneys with which he
was intrusted ; that he secured by unworthy and illegal means a naval State prize,
brought into port by a Pennsylvanian ship ; and that he meditated the fitting up
of a privateer, with intent to secure from the foe such loot on the high seas as
piratical hazard would permit. His house in Philadelphia was one of the finest
that the town possessed ; he drove about in a carriage and four ; he entertained
with excessive luxury and a large retinue of servants ; he revelled in all sorts of
pompous parade. Such ostentation would have roused adverse comment amid
the simple colonial suri'oundings of a century ago, even if he had merely been a
citizen of extraordinary wealth. But being an officer intrusted with the most
important dignities in a country both struggling for its freedom and impover
ished as to funds, he now played a part of exceptional shame and folly.
Naturally his arraignment before the authorities of the State soon followed.
The Council of Pennsylvania tried him, and though their final verdict was an ex
tremely gentle one, its very mildness of condemnation proved poison to his truc
ulent pride. Washington, the commander-in-chief, reprimanded him, but with
language of exquisite lenity. Still, Arnold never forgave the stab that was then
so deservingly yet so pityingly dealt him.
His colossal treason — one of the most monstrous in all the records of history,
soon afterward began its wily work. Under the name of Gustavits he opened
a correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton, an EnglisTi officer in command at
New York. Sir Henry at once scented the sort of villainy which would be of
vast use to his cause, however he might loathe and contemn its designer. He
instructed his aide-de-camp. Major John Andre, to send cautious and pseudo-
14

210 WORKxMEN AND HEROES
nymic replies. In his letters Arnold showed the burning sense of wrong from
which he believed himself (and with a certain amount of justice) to be suffering.
Lie had, when all is told, received harsh treatment from his countr}'', considering
how well he had served it in the past. Even Irving, that most dispassionate of
historians, has called the action of the court-martial just mentioned an " extraor
dinary measure to prepossess the public mind against him." Beyond doubt, too,
he had been repeatedly assailed by slanders and misstatements. The animosity of
party feeling had more than once wrongfully assailed him, and his second mar
riage to the daughter of a man whose Tory sympathies were widely known had
roused political hatreds, unsparing and headstrong.
But these facts are merely touched upon to make more clear the motive of
his infamous plot. Determined to give the enemy a great vantage in return for
the pecuniary indemnity that he required of them, this unhappy man stooped low
enough to ask and obtain from Washington, the command of West Point.
Andre, who had for months written him letters in a disguised hand under the
name of John Anderson, finally met him, one night, at the foot of a mountain
about six miles below Stony Point, called the Long Clove. Arnold, with infi
nite cunning, had devised this meeting, and had tempted the adventurous spirit of
Andre, who left a British man-of-war called the Vulture in order to hold converse
with his fellow-conspirator. But before the unfortunate Andre could return to
his ship (having completed his midnight confab and received from Arnold the
most damning documentary evidence of treachery) the Vulture was fired upon
from Teller's Point by a party of Americans, who had secretly carried cannon
thither during the earlier night. Andre was thus deserted by his own countrv-
men, for the Vulture moved away and left him with a man named Joshua Smith,
a minion in Arnold's employ. Of poor Andre's efforts to reach New York, of
his capture and final pathetic execution, we need not speak. On his person, at
the time of his arrest, was found a complete description of the West Point post
and garrison — documentary evidence that scorched with, indelible disgrace the
name of the man who had supplied it.
On September 25, 1780, Arnold escaped to a British sloop-of-war anchored
below West Point. He was made a colonel in the English army, and is said to
have received the sum of ^6,315 as the price of his treachery. The command
of a body of troops in Connecticut was afterward given him, and he then showed
a rapacity and intolerance that well consorted with the new po.sition he had so
basely purchased. The odium of his injured countrymen spoke loudly through
out the land he had betrayed. He was burned in effigy countless times, and a
growing generation was told with wrath and scorn the abhorrent tale of his tur
pitude. Meanwhile, as if by defiant self-assurance to wipe awav the perfidy of
former acts, he issued a proclamation to " the inhabitants of America," in which
he strove to cleanse himself from blame. This address, teeming with flimsv prot
estations of patriotism, reviling Congress, vituperating France as a worthless and
sordid ally of the Crown's rebellious subjects, met on all sides the most con
temptuous derision. Arnold passed nearly all the remainder of his life — eleven

BENEDICT ARNOLD 211
years or thereabouts — in England. He died in London, worn out with a ner
vous disease, on June 14, 1801. It is a remarkable fact that his second wife,
who had till the last remained faithful to him, suffered acutely at his death, and
both spoke and wrote of him in accents of strongest bereavement.
To the psychologic student of human character, Benedict Arnold presents a
strangely fascinating picture. Elements of good were unquestionably factors of
his mental being. But pride, revenge, jealousy, and an almost superhuman ego
tism fatally swayed him. He desired to lead in -all things, and he had far too
much vanity, far too little self-government, and not half enough true morality to
lead with success and permanence in any. The wrongs vvhich beyond doubt his
country inflicted upon him he was incapable of bearing like a stoic. Virile and
patriotic from one point of view, he was childish and weak-fibred from another.
He has been likened to Marlborough, though by no means so great a soldier.
Yet it is true that John Churchill won his dukedom by deserting his former bene
factor, James 1 1., and joining the Whig cause of Wilham of Orange. If the
Revolution had been crushed, we cannot blind our eyes to the fact that Arnold's
treason would have received from history far milder dealing than is accorded it
now. Even the radiant name of Washington would very probably have shone to
us dimmed and blurred through a mist of calamity. Posterity may respect the
patriot whose star sinks in unmerited failure, but it bows homage to him if he
wages against despotism a victorious fight. Supposing that Arnold's surrender
of West Point had extinguished that splendid spark of liberty which glowed
primarily at Lexington and Bunker Hill, the chances are that he might have re
ceived an English peerage and died in all the odor of a distinction as brilliant as
it would have been undeserved. The triumph of the American rebellion so soon
after he had ignominiously washed his hands of it, sealed forever his own social
doom. That, it is certain, was most severe and drastic. The money paid him by
the British Government was accursed as were the thirty silver pieces of Iscariot ;
for his passion to speculate ruined him financially some time before the end of
his life, and he breathed his last amid comparative poverty and the dread of still
darker reverses.
Extreme sensitiveness is apt to accompany a spirit of just his high-strung,
petulant, and spleenful sort. Beyond doubt he must have suffered keen torments
at the disdain with which he was everywhere met in English society, and chiefly
among the military officers whom his very conduct, renegade though it was, had
in a measure forced to recognize him. When Lord Cornwallis gave his sword to
Washington, its point pierced Arnold's breast with a wound rankling and incur
able. He had played for high stakes with savage and devilish desperation. Our
national independence meant his future slavery ; our priceless gain became his ir
retrievable loss. It is stated that as death approached him he grew excessively
anxious about the risky and shattered state of his affairs. His mind wandered,
as Mrs. Arnold writes, and he fancied himself once more fighting those battles
which had brought him honor and fame. It vvas then that he would call for his
old insignia of an American soldier and vvould desire to be again clothed in them.

212

WORKMEN AND HEROES

" Bring me, I beg of you," he is reported to have said, " the epaulettes and sword-
knots which Washington gave me. Let me die in my old American uniform,
the uniform in which I fought my battles ! " And once, it is declared, he gave
vent to these most significant and terrible words : "God forgive me for ever put
ting on any other ! " That country which he forswore in the hour of its direst
need can surely afford to forgive Benedict Arnold as well. Grown the greatest
republic of which history keeps any record, America need not find it difficult
both to forget the wretched frailties of this, her grossly misguided son, and at the
same time to remember what services he performed for her while as yet his bale
ful qualities had not swept beyond all bounds of restraint.

/^

a^r-

NATHAN HALE*
By Rev. Edward Everett Hale

(i 755-1 776)
NATHAN Hale, a martyr soldier of the American Revolution,
vvas born in Coventry, Conn., on June 6, 1755. When
but little more than twenty-one years old he was hanged, by
order of General William Howe, as a spy, in the city of New
York, on September 22, 1776.
At the great centennial celebration of the Revolution, and
the part which the State of Connecticut bore in it, an immense
assembly of the people of Connecticut, on the heights of Gro
ton, took measures for the erection of a statue in Hale's honor.
Their wish has been carried out by their agents in the govern
ment of the State. A bronze statue of Hale is in the State
Capitol. Another bronze statue of him has been erected in the
front of the Wadsworth Athenaeum in Hartford. Another is
in the city of New York.
Nathan Hale's father was Richard Hale, who had emio-rated
to Coventry, from Newbury, Mass., in 1 746, and had married
Elizabeth, the daughter of Joseph Strong. By her he had
twelve children, of whom Nathan was the sixth.
Richard Hale was a prosperous and successful farmer. He sent to Yale
College at one time his two sons, Enoch and Nathan, who had been born within
two years of each other. This college was then under the direction of Dr. Dag
gett. Both the young men enjoyed study, and Nathan Hale, at the exercises of
* Copyri},'lit, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

NATHAN HALE 213
Commencement Day took what is called a part, which shows that he was among
the thirteen scholars of highest rank in his class.
From the record of the college society to which he belonged, it appears that
he was interested in their theatrical performances. These were not discouraged
by the college government, and made a recognized part of the amusements of the
college and the town. Many of the lighter plays brought forward on the Eng
lish stage were thus produced by the pupils of Yale College for the entertain
ment of the people of New Haven. *
When he graduated, at the age of eighteen, he probably intended at some
time to become a Christian minister, as his brother Enoch did. But, as was
almost a custom of the time, he began his active life as a teacher in the public
schools, and early in 1774 accepted an appointment as the teacher of the Union
Grammar School, a school maintained by the gentlemen of New London, Conn.,
for the higher education of their children. Of thirty-two pupils, he says, "ten
are Latiners and all but one of the rest are writers."
In his commencement address Hale had considered the question whether the
higher education of women were not neglected. And, in the arrangement of the
Union School at New London, it was determined that between the hours of five
and seven in the morning, he should teach a class of "twenty young ladies " in
the studies which occupied their brothers at a later hour.
He was thus engaged in the year 1774. The whole country was alive with
the movements and discussions which came to a crisis in the battle of Lexington
the next year. Hale, though not of age, was enrolled in the militia and was ac
tive in the military organization of the town.
So soon as the news of Lexington and Concord reached New London, a
town-meeting was called. At this meeting, this young man, not yet of age, was
one of the speakers. " Let us march immediatelj^," he said, " and never lay down
our arms until we obtain our independence." He assembled his school as. usual
the next day, but only to take leave of his scholars. " He gave them earnest
counsel, prayed with them, shook each by the hand," and bade them farewell.
It is said that there is no other record so early as this in which the word " in
dependence " was publicly spoken. It would seem as if the unc'alculating cour
age of a boy of twenty were needed to break the spell which still gave dignity to
colonial submission.
He was commissioned as First Lieutenant in the Seventh Connecticut regi
ment, and resigned his place as teacher. The first duty assigned to the regiment
was in the neighborhood of New London, where, probably, they were perfecting
their discipline. On September 14, 1775, they vvere ordered by Washington to
Cambridge. There they were placed on the left wing of his army, and made
their camp at the foot of Winter Hill. This was the post which commanded the
passage from Charlestown, one of the only two roads by which the English could
march out from Boston. Here they remained until the next spring. Hale him
self gives the most interesting details of that great victory by which Washington
and his officers changed that force of minute-men, by which they had overawed

214 WORKMEN AND HEROES
Boston in 1775, into a regular army. Hale re-enlisted as many of the old men as
possible, and then went back to Coventry to engage, from his old school com
panions, soldiers for the war. After a month of such effort at home, he came
back with a body of recruits to Roxbury.
On January 30th his regiment was removed to the right wing in Roxbury.
Here they joined in the successful night enterprise of March 4th and 5th, by
which the Enghsh troops were driven from Boston.
So soon as the English army had left the country, Washington knew that
their next point of attack would be New York. Most of his army was, therefore,
sent there, and Webb's regiment among the rest. They were at first assigned to
the Canada army, but because they had a good many seafaring men, were re
served for service near New York, where their " web-footed " character served
them well more than once that summer. Hale marched with the regiment to
New London, whence they all went by water to New York. On that critical
night, when the whole army was moved across to New York after the defeat at
Brooklyn, the regiment rendered effective service.
It was at this period that Hale planned an attack, made by members of his
own company, to set fire to the frigate Phcenix. The frigate was saved, but one
of her tenders and four cannons and six swivels were taken. The men received
the thanks, praises, and rewards of Washington, and the frigate, with her com
panions, not caring to risk such attacks again, retired to the Narrows. Soon after
this little brush with the enemy. Colonel Knowlton, of one of the Connecticut
regiments, organized a special corps, which was known as Knowlton's Rangers.
On the rolls of their own regiments the officers and men are spoken of as " de
tached on command." They received their orders direct from Washington and
Putnam, and were kept close in front of the enemy, watching his movements from
the American line in Harlem. It was in this service, on September 15th, that
Knowlton's Rangers, vvith three Virginia companies, drove the English troops
from their position in an open fight. It was a spirited action, which was a real
victory for the attacking force. Knowlton and Leitch, the leaders, were both
killed. In his general orders Washington spoke of Knowlton as a gallant and
brave officer who would have been an honor to any country..
But Hale, alas! was not fighting at Knowlton's side. He was indeed "de
tached for special service." Washington had been driven up the island of New
York, and was holding his place with the utmost difficulty. On September 6th
he wrote, " We have not been able to obtain the least information as to the en
emy's plans." In sheer despair at the need of better information than the Tories
of New York City would give him, the great commander consulted his council,
and at their direction summoned Knowlton to ask for some volunteer of intelli
gence, who would find his way into the English lines, and bring back some tidings
that could be relied upon. Knowlton summoned a number of officcr.s, and stated
to them the wishes of their great chief. The appeal was received vvith dead si
lence. It is said that Knowlton personally addressed a non-commissioned officer,
a Frenchman, who was an old soldier. He did so only to receive the natural

NATHAN HALE 215

reply, " I am willing to be shot, but not to be hung." Knowlton felt that he
must report his failure to Washington. But Nathan Hale, his youngest captain,
broke the silence. " I will undertake it," he said. He had come late to the
meeting. He was pale from recent sickness. But he saw an opportunity to
serve, and he did the duty which came next his hand.
William HuU, afterward the major-general who commanded at Detroit, had
been Hale's college classmate. He remonstrated with his friend on the danger
of the task, and the ignominy which would attend its failure. " He said to him
that it was not in the line of his duty, and that he was of too frank and open a
temper to act successfully the part of a spy, or to face its dangers, which would
probably lead to a disgraceful death." Hale replied, " I wish to be useful, and
every kind of service necessary to the public good becomes honorable by being
necessary. If the exigencies of my country demand a peculiar service, its claims
to perform that service are imperious." These are the last words of his vvhich
can be cited until those which he spoke at the moment of his death. He promised
Hull to take his arguments into consideration, but Hull never heard from him
again. In the second week of September he left the camp for Stamford with
Stephen Hempstead, a sergeant in Webb's regiment, from whom we have the last
direct account of his journey. With Hempstead and Asher Wright, who was his
servant in camp, he left his uniform and some other articles of property. He
crossed to Long Island in citizen's dress, and, as Hempstead thought, took with
him his college diploma, meaning to assume the aspect of a Connecticut school
master visiting New York in the hope to establish himself. He landed near
Huntington, or Oyster Bay, and directed the boatman to return at a time fixed
by him, the 20th of September. He made his way into New York, and there,
for a week or more apparently, prosecuted his inquiries. He returned on the
day fixed, and awaited his boat. It appeared, as he thought ; and he made a sig
nal from the shore. Alas ! he had mistaken the boat. She was from an Ensr-
lish frigate, which lay screened by a point of woods, and had come in for water.
Hale attempted to retrace his steps, but was too late. He was seized and exam
ined. Hidden in the soles of his shoes were his memoranda, in the Latin lan
guage. They compromised him at once. He was carried on board the frigate,
and sent to New York the same day, well guarded.
It was at an unfortunate moment, if anyone expected tenderness from Gen
eral Howe. Hale landed while the city was in the terror of the great conflagra
tion of September 21st. In that fire nearly a quarter of the town was burned
down. The English supposed, rightly or not, that the fire had been begun by
the Americans. The bells had been taken from the churches by order of the
Provincial Congress. The fire - engines were out of order, and for a time it
seemed impossible to check the flames. Two hundred persons were sent to jail
upon the supposition that they were incendiaries. It is in the midst of such con
fusion that Hale is taken to General. Howe's head-quarters, and there he meets
his doom.

216

WORKMEN AND ITEROES

No testimony could be stronger against him than the papers on his person.
He was not there to prevaricate, and he told them his rank and name. There
was no trial, and Howe at once ordered that he should be hanged the next
morning. Worse than this, had he known it, he was to be hanged by William
Cunningham, the Provost-Major, a man whose brutality, through the war dis-.
graced the British army. It is a satisfaction to know that Cunningham was
hanged for his deserts in England, not many years after.*
Hale was confined for the night of September 21st in the greenhouse of the
garden of Howe's head-quarters. This place was known as the Beekman Man
sion, at Turtle Bay. This house was standing until within a few years.
Early the next day he was led to his death. " On the morning of the
execution," said Captain Montresor, an English officer, " my station being near
the fatal spot, I requested the Provost-Marshal td permit the prisoner to sit in
my marquee while he was making the necessary preparations. Captain Hale en
tered. He asked for writing materials, which I furnished him. He wrote two
letters ; one to his mother and one to a brother officer. The Provost-Marshal
destroyed the letters, and assigned as a reason that the rebels should not know
that they had a man in their army who could die with so much firmness."
Hale asked for a Bible, but his request vvas refused. He was marched out by
a guard and hanged upon an apple-tree in Rutgers's orchard. The place vvas near
the present intersection of East Broadway and Market Streets. Cunningham
asked him to make his dying "speech and confession." "I only regret," he
said, "that I have but one life to lose for my country."

(g^^/^^P C^/f^^^

THADDEUS KOSCIUSKO
(i 746-181 7)
'MONG the remarkable men of modern times there is perhaps none
whose fame is purer from reproach than that of Thaddeus Kosci
usko. His name is enshrined in the ruins of his unhappy country,
which, with heroic bravery and devotion, he sought to defend
~&Mi^-^J against foreign oppression and foreign domination. Kosciusko was
born at Warsaw about the year 1 746. He was educated at the School of Cadets,
in that city, where he disringuished himself so much in scientific studies as well
as in drawing, that he was selected as one of four students of that institution,
* Such is the current tradition and belief, that he was hanged at Newgate ; but Mr. George Bancroft found
no such name in the records of the prison.

THADDEUS KOSCIUSKO

217

|C?'«

who were sent to travel at the expense of the state, with a view of perfecting
their talents. In this capacity he visited France, where he remained for several
years, devoting himself to studies of various kinds. On his return to his own
country he entered the army, and obtained the
command of a company. But he vvas soon
obliged to expatriate himself again, in order
to fly from a violent but unrequited passion
for the daughter of the Marshal of Lithuania,
one of the first officers of state of the Polish
court. He bent his steps to that part of North
America which was then waging its war of
independence against England. Here he en
tered the army, and served with distinction
as one of the adjutants of General Washing
ton. While thus employed, he became ac
quainted with Lafayette, Lameth, and other
distinguished Frenchmen serving in the same
cause, and was honored by receiving the most
flattering praises from Frankhn, as well as the
public thanks of the Congress of the United
Provinces. He was also decorated with the new American order of Cincinnatus,
being the only European, except Lafayette, to whom it was given.
At the termination of the war he returned to his own country, where he lived
in retirement till the year 1 789, at vvhich period he was promoted by the Diet to
the rank of major-general. That body was at this time endeavoring to place its
military force upon a respectable footing, in the vain hope of restraining and di
minishing the domineering influence of foreign powers in what still remained of
Poland. It also occupied itself in changing the vicious constitution of that
unfortunate and ill-governed country — in rendering the monarchy hereditary, in
declaring universal toleration, and in preserving the privileges of the nobility,
while at the same time it ameliorated the condition of the lower orders. In all
these improvements Stanislas Poniatowski, the reigning king, readily concurred ;
though the avowed intention of the Diet was to render the crown hereditary in
the Saxon family. The King of Prussia (Frederick W^illiam 1 1.), vvho, from the
time of the treaty of Cherson, in 1787, between Russia and Austria, had become
hostile to the former powder, also encouraged the Poles in their proceedings ; and
even gave them the most positive assurances of assisting them, in case' the
changes they were effecting occasioned anv attacks from other sovereigns.
Russia at length, having made peace vvith the Turks, prepared to throw her
sword into the scale. A formidable opposition to the measures of the Diet had
arisen, even among the Poles themselves, and occasioned what was called the
confederation of Targowicz, to which the Empress of Russia promised her assist
ance. The feeble Stanislas, who had proclaimed the new constitution in 1791,

218 WORKMEN AND HEROES
bound himself in 1792 to sanction the Diet of Grodno, which restored the an
cient consritution, with all its vices and all its abuses. In the meanwhile Fred
erick William, King of Prussia, who had so mainly contributed to excite the
Poles to their enterprises, basely deserted them, and refused to give them any
assistance. On the contrary, he stood aloof from the contest, waiting for that
share of the spoil which the haughty empress of the north might think proper
to allot to him, as a reward of his non-interference.
But though thus betrayed on all sides, the Poles were not disposed to submit
without a struggle. They flew to arms, and found in the nephew of their king,
the Prince Joseph Poniatowski, a general worthy to conduct so glorious a cause.
Under his command Kosciusko first became known in European warfare. He
distinguished himself in the battle of Zielenec, and still more in that of Dubi-
enska, which took place on June 18, 1792. Upon this latter occasion he de
fended for six hours, with only 4,000 men, against 15,000 Russians, a post which
had been slightly fortified in twenty-four hours, and at last retired with incon
siderable loss.
But the contest was too unequal to last ; the patriots were overwhelmed by
enemies from without, and betrayed by traitors within, at the head of whom was
their own sovereign. The Russians took possession of the country, and pro
ceeded to appropriate those portions of Lithuania and Volhynia which suited
their convenience ; while Prussia, the friendly Prussia, invaded another part of
the kingdom.
Under these circumstances the most distinguished officers in the Polish army
retired from the service, and of this number was Kosciusko. Miserable at the
fate of his unhappy country, and at the same time an object of suspicion to the
ruling powers, he left his native land and retired to Leipsic, where he received
intelligence of the honor which had been conferred upon him by the Legislative
Assembly of France, who had invested him with the quality of a French citizen.
But his fellow-countrymen were still anxious to make another struggle for in
dependence, and they unanimously selected Kosciusko as their chief and general
issimo. He obeyed the call, and found the patriots eager to combat under his
orders. Even the noble Joseph Poniatowski, who had previously commanded in
chief, returned from France, whither he had retired, and received from the hands
of Kosciusko the charge of a portion of his army.
The patriots had risen in the north of Poland, to which part Kosciusko first
directed his steps. Anxious to begin his campaign vvith an action of vigor, he
marched rapidly toward Cracow, which town he entered triumphantly on March
24, 1794. He forthwith published a manifesto against the Russians ; and then,
at the head of only 5,000 men, he marched to meet their armv^ He encountered,
on April 4th, 10,000 Russians at a place called Wraclavvic, and entirelv defeated
them after a combat of four hours. He returned in triumph to Cracow, and
shortly afterward marched along the left bank of the \"istula to Polaniec, vvhere
he established his head-quarters.
Meanwhile the inhabitants of Warsaw, animated by the recital of the heroic

THADDEUS KOSCIUSKO 219
deeds of their countrymen, had also raised the standard of independence, and
were successful in driving the Russians from the city, after a murderous conflict
of three days. In Lithuania and Samogitia an equally successful revolution vvas
effected before the end of April, while the Polish troops stationed in Volhynia
and Podolia marched to the reinforcement of Kosciusko.
Thus far fortune seemed to smile upon the cause of Polish freedom — the
scene was, however, about to change. The undaunted Kosciusko, having first
organized a national council to conduct the affairs of government, once more ad
vanced against the Russians. On his march he met a hew enemy in the person
of the faithless Frederick William, of Prussia, who, without having even gone
through the preliminary of declaring war, had advanced into Poland at the head
of 40,000 men.
Kosciusko, with but 13,000 men, attacked the Prussian army on June 8th, at
Szcekociny. The battle was long and bloody ; at length, overwhelmed by
numbers, he was obliged to retreat toward Warsaw. This he efl:ected in so able
a manner that his enemies did not dare to harass him in his march ; and he ef
fectually covered the capital and maintained his position for two months against
vigorous and continued attacks. Immediately after this reverse the Polish gen
eral, Zaionczeck, lost the battle of Chelm, and the Governor of Cracow had the
ba.seness to deliver the town to the Prussians without attempting a defence.
These disasters occasioned disturbances among the disaffected at Warsaw,
which, however, were put down by the vigor and firmness of Kosciusko. On
July 13th the forces of the Prussians and Russians, amounting to 50,000 men,
assembled under the walls of Warsaw, and commenced the siege of that city.
After six weeks spent before the place, and a succession of bloody conflicts, the
confederates were obliged to raise the siege ; but this respite to the Poles was but
of short duration.
Their enemies increased fearfully in number, while their own resources dimin
ished. Austria now determined to assist in the annihilation of Poland, and
caused a body of her troops to enter that kingdom. Nearly at the same mo
ment the Ru.ssians ravaged Lithuania ; and the two corps of the Russian army
commanded by Suwarof and Fersen, effected their junction in spite of the battle
of Krupezyce, which the Poles had ventured upon, with doubtful issue, against
the first of these commanders, on September i6th.
Upon receiving intelligence of these events Kosciusko left Warsaw, and
placed himself at the head of the Polish army. He was attacked by the very su
perior forces of the confederates on October 10, 1794, at a place called Macieiow-
ice, and for many hours supported the combat against overwhelming odds. At
length he vvas severely wounded, and as he fell, he uttered the prophetic words
" Finis Polonies." It is asserted that he had exacted from his followers an oath,
not to suffer him to fall alive into the hands of the Russians, and that in conse
quence the Polish cavalry, being unable to carry him off, inflicted some severe
sabre wounds on him and left him for dead on the field ; a sav^age fidelity, vvhich
we half admire even in condemning it. Be this as it may, he was recognized and

220 WORKMEN AND HEROES
dehvered from the plunderers by some Cossack chiefs ; and thus was saved from
death to meet a scarcely less harsh fate — imprisonment in a Russian dungeon.
Thomas Wavvrzecki became the successor of Kosciusko in the command of
the army ; but with the loss of their heroic leader all hope had deserted the
breasts of the Poles. They still, however, fought with all the obstinacy of de
spair, and defended the suburb of Warsaw, called Praga, with great gallantry.
At length this post was wrested from them. Warsaw itself capitulated on No
vember 9, 1794; and this calamity was followed by the entire dissolution of the
Polish army on the i8th of the same month.
During this time, Kosciusko remained in prison at St. Petersburg ; but, at the
end of two years, the death of his persecutress, the Empress Catharine, released
him. One of the first acts of the Emperor Paul was to restore him to liberty,
and to load him with various marks of his favor. Among other gifts of the auto
crat was a pension, by which, however, the high-spirited patriot would never con
sent to profit. No sooner was he beyond the reach of Russian influence than he
returned to the donor the instrument by which this humiliating favor was con
ferred. From this period the life of Kosciusko was passed in retirement. He
went first to England, and then to the United States of America. He returned
to the Old World in 1 798, and took up his abode in France, where he divided
his time between Paris and a country-house he had bought near Fontainebleau.
While here he received the appropriate present of the sword of John Sobieski,
which was sent to him by some of his countrymen serving in the French armies
in Italy, who had found it in the shrine at Loretto.
Napoleon, when about to invade Poland in 1807, wished to use the name of
Kosciusko in order to rally the people of the country round his standard. The
patriot, aware that no real freedom was to be hoped for under such auspices, at
once refused to lend himself to his wishes. Upon this the emperor forged Kos
ciusko's signature to an address to the Poles, which was distributed throughout
the country. Nor would he permit the injured person to deny the authenticity
of this act in any public manner. The real state of the case was, however, made
known to many through the private representations of Kosciusko ; but he was
never able to publish a formal denial of the transaction till after the fall of Napoleon.
When the Russians, in 18 14, had penetrated into Champagne, and were ad
vancing toward Paris, they were astonished to hear that their former adversary
was living in retirement in that part of the country. The circumstances of this
discovery were striking. The commune in which Kosciusko lived w^as subjected
to plunder, and among the troops thus engaged he observed a Polish regiment.
Transported with anger, he rushed among thera, and thus addressed the officers :
" When I commanded brave soldiers they never pillaged ; and I should have pun
ished severely subalterns who allowed of disorders such as those which vve see
around. Still more severely .should I have punished older officers, vvho author
ized such conduct by their culpable neglect." " And who are you," was the o-en
eral cry, " that you dare to speak with such boldness to us ? " "I am Koscius
ko." The effect was electric : the soldiery cast down their arms, prostrated

MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE

221

themselves at his feet, and cast dust upon their heads according to a national
usage, supplicating his forgiveness for the fault vvhich they had committed. For
twenty years the name of Kosciusko had not been heard in Poland save as that
of an exile ; yet it still retained its ancient power over Polish hearts ; a power
never used but for some good and generous end.
The Emperor Alexander honored him with a long interview^ and offered him
an asylum in his own country. But nothing could induce Kosciusko again to
see his unfortunate native land. In 1815 he retired to Soleure, in Switzerland ;
where he died, October t6, 181 7, in consequence of an injury received by a fall
from his horse. Not long before he had abolished slavery upon his Polish es
tate, and declared all his serfs entirely free, by a deed registered and executed
with every formality that could insure the full performance of his intention.
The mortal remains of Kosciusko were removed to Poland at the expense of
Alexander, and have found a fitting place of rest in the cathedral of Cracow, be
tween those of his companions in arms, Joseph Poniatowski, and the greatest of
Polish warriors, John Sobieski.

MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE

«•

By William F. Peck

(1757-1834)
MARIE Jean Paul Roch Yves Gilbert
MoTiER, Marquis de la Fayette,f one of
the most celebrated men that France ever pro
duced, was born at Chavaignac, in Auvergne,
on September 6, 1757, of a noble family, with
a lona: line of illustrious ancestors. Left an
orphan at the age of thirteen, he married, three
years later, his cousin Anastasie, Countess de
Noailles. Inspired from the earliest age with
a love of freedom and aversion to constraint,
the impulses of childhood became the day
dreams of youth and the realities of maturer
hfe. Filled vvith enthusiastic .sympathy for the
strupfSflinpf colonies of America in their contest
with Great Britain, he offered his services to
the United States, and, though his enterprise was forbidden by the French Gov
ernment, hired a vessel, sailed for this countiy, landed at Charieston in Ai)ril,
t The condensed form of the name, when used apart from the title, is preferable to the open, for, though he
employed the conventional style, De La Fayette, up to the time of the French Revolution, he then abandoned
it; and always afterward wrote it as one word, Lafayette, which is now the family name.
• Copyright, 1894, by Selnmr Hess.

222 WORKMEN AND HEROES
1777, and proceeded to Philadelphia. His advances having been treated by
Congress with some coldness, by reason of the incessant applicarion of other for
eigners for commissions, he offered to serve as a volunteer and at his own
expense. Congress may be excused for having taken him at his word ; on July
31st it appointed him major-general, without pay the titular honor, which carried
with it no command, being, perhaps, the highest ever given in America to a
young man of nineteen years. Having accepted the cordial invitation of General
Washington, the commander-in-chief, to live at his head-quarters and to serve on
his staff, Lafayette was severely wounded in the leg at the battle of the Brandy
wine, on September nth, and the intrepidity he displayed in that engage
ment was equalled by the fortitude that he evinced during the following winter,
in which he shared the privations of the American army in the wretched camp at
Valley Forge. His fidelity to Washington at this time, when the latter was ma
ligned by secret foes and conspired against by Conway's cabal, cemented the
friendship between those great men. Lafayette was soon afterward detached to
take command of an expedition that was to set out from Albany, cross Lake
Champlain on the ice, and invade Canada ; but, on arriving at the intended
starting-point, and finding that no adequate preparations had been made, he re
fused to repeat the unfortunate experiment of Montgomery and Arnold of two
years before, and waited for suitable supplies to be sent to him before setting
out. These came not, the ice melted in March, and he returned to Valley Forge,
with the thanks of Congress for his forbearance in abstaining from risking the
loss of an army in order to acquire personal glory. France having declared war
against England, May 2, 1778, and at the same time effected an alhance with the
colonies, Lafayette returned home in January, 1779 ; on his arrival at Paris he
was lionized and feted, and during his stay there he received from the United
States Congress a sword with massive gold handle and mounting, presented to
him in appreciation of his services and particularly of his gallantry at the battle
of Monmouth, on June 28th, in the preceding year. The high reputation that
he had acquired in America increased his influence at home to such a degree that
he was able to accomplish the object of his mission and procure money and
troops from the ministry of war. These followed him to this countrv in the fol
lowing year, but little was accomplished thereby, D'Estaing, the commander of
the fleet, being blockaded in the harbor of Newport, and Washington being un
willing to undertake the contemplated attack on New York, even with the as
sistance of the French military force, without naval co-operation. In February,
1 781, Lafayette was sent with a division into Virginia, vvhere he soon found him
self arrayed against the British general. Lord Cornwallis. That distinguished
officer, the best, perhaps, of all on that side of the conflict, expected to make
short work of his youthful antagonist, but Lafayette, vvho had learned from
VVashington the art of skilful retreat combined with cautious advance, succeeded,
after a long series of skirmishes, in shutting Cornwallis up in Yorktown. In
September, the French fleet, under the Count de Grasse, appeared and landed a
force of 3,000 men under the Marquis de St. Simon. Lafayette vvas urged to

MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE 223
make the assault at once and gain the glory of an important capture, but a feel
ing of honor, combined possibly with prudential considerations, impelled him to
wait for the arrival of the main allied army under Washington and Rochambeau.
They came a fortnight later, the investment was regularly made, and on October
14th Lafayette successfully led the Americans to the assault of one of the re
doubts, while another was taken by the French under the Baron de Viomesnil.
The surrender of Cornwallis, with his army of 7,000, took place on the 19th,
which ended, practically, the American war of independence, though the final
treaty of peace was not signed till January 20, 1783, the first knowledge of which
came to Congress by a letter from Lafayette, who had returned to Europe in the
meantime. Revisiting the United States in 1784, he was treated with great con
sideration by his old comrades in arms, and the next year he travelled through
Russia, Austria, and Prussia, in the last of which he attended the military reviews
of Frederick the Great in company with that renowned soldier.
Frorn this time Lafayette's history is bound up with that of his country. Be
ginning by formulating plans for meliorating the condition of the slaves on his
plantation in French Guiana, his philanthropic thoughts soon turned homeward.
He saw France groaning under oppression and the people suffering from a
thousand antiquated abuses. Some of these he succeeded in mitigating, in his
capacity of member of the Assembly of the Notables, in 1787, but, as nothing of
permanent value was accomplished by that body, he urged the convocation of the
States General. In this assemblage, which met at Versailles, on May 4, 1789,
he sat at first among the nobility, but when the deputies of the people declared
themselves to be the National Assembly — afterward called the Constituent As
sembly — he was one of the earliest of his order to join them and was elected one
of the vice-presidents. On July 14th the Bastille was taken by the mob, and on
the following day Lafayette was chosen commandant of the National Guard of
Paris ; an irregular body, partly military, partly police, having no connection with
the royal army and in full sympathy with the people, from which its ranks were
filled. On the 17th King Louis XVI. came into the city, where he vvas rec(!ived
by the populace with the liveliest expressions of attachment and escorted to the
Hotel de ViUe, vvhere Lafayette and Mayor Bailly awaited him at the foot of the
staircase, up which he passed under an arch of steel formed by the uplifted swords
of the members of the Municipal Council. Bailly offered to the king a tricolor
cockade, which had been recently adopted as the national emblem, Lafavette, in
devising it, having added white, the Bourbon color, to the red and blue that were
the colors of Paris, to .show the fidelity of the people to the institution of royalty.
The king accepted the badge, pinned it to his breast, appeared with it on the bal
cony before the vast throng, and returned to Versailles with the feeling, on his
part and that of others, that the reconciliation between all parties vvas complete
and that the era of popular government had begun. Instead of that, the troubles
continually increased, and Lafayette was placed in a most trying position, equally
opposed to the encroachments of the destructionists and to the intrigues of the
court, and longing as eagerly for the retention of the monarchy as for the estab-

221 WORKMEN AND HEROES
lishment of the constitution. The brutal murder of Foulon, the superintendent
of the revenue, and of his son-in-law Berthier, who were torn in pieces by the
enraged populace on the 2 2d, in spite of the commands, entreaties, and even tears
of Lafayette, so disgusted him that he resigned his command, and resumed it
only when the sixty districts of Paris agreed to support him in his efforts to
' maintain order. On October 5th a mob of several thousand women set out from.
Paris to march to Versailles, with vague ideas of extorting from the National
Assembly the passage of laws that should remove all distresses, of obtaining in
some way a supply of food that should relieve the immediate needs of the capital,
and of bringing back vvith them the royal family. The National Guard were ur
gent to accompany the women, partly from a desire to protect them in case of a
possible collision with the royal troops, but still more to bring on a conflict with a
regiment lately brought from the frontier, and to exterminate the body-guard of
the king, the members of which had, at a supper given a few nights before, been
so indiscreet as to trample the tricolor under their feet and pin the white cockade
to their lapels. Lafayette did all in his power to prevent the march of the Na
tional Guard, sitting on his horse for eight hours in their midst, and refusing all
their entreaties to give the word of command, till the Municipal Council finally
issued the order and the troops set forth. Arrived at Versailles he posted one of
his regiments in different parts of the palace, to protect it in case it were really
attacked by rioters, and then, in the early morning, repairing to his head-quarters
in an adjoining street, he threw himself on a bed, for a short season of necessary
repose. Monarchical writers generally have reproached him for this act, calling
it his " fatal sleep," the source of unnumbered woes, the beginning of the down
fall ; but it is difficult to see wherein he can justly be blamed for yielding, wea
ried out with fatigue, to the imperative demand of nature, after providing as far
as possible for the preservation of order. Awakened in a few minutes by the re
port that the worst had happened, he hurried to the scene and found that the
mob, having broken down the iron railings of the court-yard, had invaded the pal
ace and massacred two of the body-guard, and that the lives of the king and queen
were in instar^t peril. With characteristic courage, activity, and address he pre
vented the further effusion of blood, and the entire royal family, together with
the Assembly, migrated to Paris the same day, escorted by the citizen soldiers
and a turbulent mob both male and female. July 14, 1790, vvas memorable for
the Oath of Federation, taken in the Champ de Mars, with imposing ceremo
nies, upon a platform of earth raised by the voluntary labors of all the citizens.
Lafayette, as representative of the nation, and particularly of the militia, was the
first to take the oath to be faithful to the law and the king and to support the
constitution then under consideration by the Assembly. With a shout of affir
mation from all of the National Guard, the taking of the entire oath by the presi
dent of the Assembly and the king, followed by a roar of assent from neariy half
a million of spectators, and the joyful spreading of the news throughout the coun
try by prearranged signals, the dream of peace and harmony came back again, as
bright and as fleeting as the year before. Three days later the National ("ruard of

THE AKCH OP STEEL

BT
JEAN PAUL LAURENS

¦¦- "N

MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE 22.5
France, outside of the city, united in an address to Lafayette, expressive of their
confidence in his ability and his patriotism, and regretting their inability to serve
under him, for, by the terms of a law proposed by himself, the commander of
the militia of Paris was to have no authority over other troops. In September
the municipality made a strong appeal to him to revoke his declaration that he
would accept no pay or salary or indemnity of any kind, but he refused fixedly,
saying that his fortune was considerable, that it had sufficed for two revolutions
and that it would be devoted to a third, if one should arise, for the benefit of the
people. By the death of Mirabeau, April 2, 1791, the last chance of a compro
mise between the court party and the radicals was taken away. Two weeks later
the royal family attempted to leave the Tuileries for St. Cloud, in order to pass
the Easter holidays there and to hear mass in the royal chapel ; but the populace
blocked the way, and even a portion of the National Guard, in a state of semi-
mutiny, threatened to interfere if the other battalions fired on the people. This,
nevertheless, Lafayette offered to do, and to force a passage at. all hazards, but the
king positively forbade the shedding of blood on his account, and resumed his vir
tual imprisonment in the palace. Lafayette was so chagrined by the seditious
behavior of his troops that he again threw down his commission, whereupon an
extraordinary revulsion of feeling took place ; the municipality and the citizens
were terror-stricken lest universal anarchy should ensue, and even the National
Guard, repentant of their disgraceful conduct, ca.st themselves at the feet of their
general, joining their voices to those of others in entreating him to resume his
office, vi^hich, after three days, he consented to do, upon promise of obedience in
the future.
This was the meridian of Lafayette's career, when his popularity and his in
fluence were at their height. Power we can hardly call it, for that implies some
voluntary deed of assumption, and he always acted in obedience to others, to
some authority constituted at least under the forms of lavv^, or, in the absence of
that, to the sovereign people. From this time difficulties thickened around him
and he was constantly environed by suspicion and by intrigues of all kinds against
his character and his life, but he never swerved from the line of his duty. Not
one of the political parties gave him its entire confidence, and each in turn con
spired against him, only to be baffled by the underlying conviction, on the part
of the masses, of his supreme patriotism and integrity. After the flight of the
king and his family, on June 20th, Lafayette was violently denounced in the
Jacobin club as a friend to royalty, and accused of having assisted in the evasion ;
but the attempt to proscribe him in the Assembly failed utterly, and that body
appointed six commissioners to protect him from the sudden fury of the people.
The royal fugitives having been stopped at \"arennes and brought back to the
Tuileries on the 25th, he saved them, by his personal efforts, from being torn in
pieces by the mob, but was compeUed to guard them much more strictly than
before. On July 17th a disorderly assemblage gathered in the Champ de Mars
to petition for the overthrow of the monarchy, and, in the tumult that ensued on
the appearance of the troops, Lafayette ordered a volley of musketry, wherelw
15

226 WORKMEN AND HEROES
the rioters were dispersed vvith a loss of several killed and wounded, but whereby,
also, while that act of firmness elicited commendation from all lovers of order,
occasion was given for further intrigues on- the part of his enemies and the
shattering of his influence among the lower classes. A momentary gleam of
sunshine broke forth in September, when, the king having accepted the new
constitution, Lafayette took advantage of the general state of good feeling there
by produced to propose a comprehensive act of amnesty for all offences com
mitted on either side during the revolution, which was passed by the Constituent
Assembly just before its final adjournment on the 30th. On that day he re
signed, permanently, the command of the National Guard, and retired to his estate
at Chavaignac, being foUowed by the most gratifying testimonials of public regard,
among them a sword and a marble statue of Washington, presented by the city
of Paris, and a sword cast from one of the bolts of the Bastille, given by his old
soldiers. Contrary to his personal wishes, his friends and his patriotism per
suaded him, in November, to stand as a candidate for the mayoralty of Paris,
with the result that might have been foreseen, for Potion, being supported both
by the Jacobins and by the court party, was elected by a large majority. This
defeat did not prevent Lafayette's appointment, a month later, to the command
of one of the three armies formed to defend the frontier against an expected in
vasion of the Austrians, the rank of lieutenant-general being given to him, with
the exalted honor of marshal of France. War was declared against Austria, April
20, 1792, and hostilities began, but even the active service in which he was en
gaged could not keep his thoughts from the political condition of the country,
and on June i6th he wrote to the Legislative Assembly, which had succeeded
the Constituent in the previous autumn, a letter in which he pointed out the
dangers that menaced the nation and denounced the Jacobins as the faction
whose growing povver was full of peril to the state. Four days later the mob
invaded the Tuileries and passed riotously through all the rooms, insulting in the
grossest manner the royal family, who were compelled to stand before them and
undergo this humiliation for three hours. On hearing of this event Lafayette
hurried from his camp and appeared before the Assembly, entreating the pun
ishment of the instigators of the outrage. His sublime audacit)^ in thus op
posing his own personahty to the machinations of his enemies, and that, too,
before a body already irritated by his unasked advice, paralyzed the furv of his
adversaries, v/hile his eloquence charmed the hearts of his hearers ; but all was in
vain, and the only result of this heroic action was that a decree of accusation was
brought in against him, which was rejected by a vote of 406 to 224. LTpon the
massacre of the Swiss Guards, on August loth, followed by the actual deposition
and imprisonment of the king, Lafayette sounded his army to ascertain if they
would march to Paris in defence of constitutional gov¬ernraent, but he found
them vacillating and untrustworthy. His own dismissal frora command came
soon after; orders were sent for his arrest, and nothing remained for him but
flight. On August 19th he left the army and attempted to pass through Belgium on

MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE 227
his way to England, but he was captured by Austrian soldiers near the frontier.
He protested that he no longer held rank as an officer in the army and should
be considered as a private citizen ; but his rights vvere not respected in either ca
pacity, for he was not treated as a prisoner of war neither was he arraigned as a
criminal. On the contrary, without any charges being preferred against him, and
without the formality of a trial of any kind, he was immediately thrown into
prison and was detained in various Belgian, Prussian, and Austrian jails and for
tresses for more than five years, the last three being pa.ssed in close confinement
at Olmutz. An unsuccessful attempt at escape increased the severity of his de
tention, and he nearly lost his life through the hardships and privations that he
endured, till his wife and daughters came, in 1795, and voluntarily shared his in
carceration. The only reason for the savage treatment that he received, unjusti
fied by any forms of international, of military, or of criminal law, seeras to have
lain in the fact that he had been a member of the National Assembly and prom
inent in the constitutional struggle for liberty. A feeling of revenge, as mean as
it was groundless — ^for he had done everything in his povver to protect the dig
nity as well as the life of Marie Antoinette, the sister of the Austrian emperor —
joined with a fear that other peoples raight follow tbe lead of the French and
overthrow raonarchical institutions unless deterred by some world-shocking ex
araple, formed the mainspring of this atrocious procedure. Efforts were made
in this country and in England to procure the release of the prisoner, but no
governmental action was taken in that direction, the United States Congress
declining to pass a resolution to that effect, so that President Washington was
left alone in his unceasing attempts, by instructions to our ministers abroad
and by a personal letter to the emperor, to repay some of the debt that he and
the whole country owed to our adopted citizen. It was not till the successes of
the French republican arraies enabled General Bonaparte, at the instance of the
Directory, to insist upon the liberation of Lafayette as one of the conditions of
the treaty of Campo Formio, that he was discharged on Septeraber 19, 1797, the
Austrian Governraent pretending that this was done out of regard for the United
States of America. Passing into Denmark and Holland he resided in those
countries for two years, when he returned to France only to receive frora Bona
parte a significant raessage recoraraending to hira a very quiet life, a piece of
advice which, as it accorded with his own desires, he followed, settling down at
Lagrange, an estate inherited by his vvife, as his own property had been confis
cated by the National Convention, which had succeeded the Legislative Assera
bly. True to the principles that he had always entertained, he cast his vote, in
1802, with less than nine thousand others, and in opposition to the suffrages of
more than three-and-a-half miUions, against the decree to make Bonaparte con
sul for Ufe, writing after his name on the polling register the statement that he
could not vote for such a measure till public freedom was sufficiently guaranteed.
This insured the continued displeasure of the railitary despot, who revenged hira
self by refusing to Lafayette's only son, George Washington, the proraotion that
he had earned by his briUiant exploits in the army. President Jefferson's offer.

228 WORKMEN AND HEROES
in 1 803, of the governorship of the province of Louisiana, just after its purchase
from France, was rejected by Lafayette, who continued in his retirement through
the time of the empire and after the first restoration of the Bourbons, rill the
return from Elba, in March, 18 15, of Napoleon, who used every exertion to con
ciliate him and win his support. AU these overtures he declined, but, on the
other hand, accepted an election to the popular branch of the Legislature, of
which he was chosen vice-president. After the battle of Waterloo, on June i8th.
Napoleon returned to Paris and proposed to his council the dissolution of the
Chamber of Deputies and the assumption of absolutely dictatorial power ; a des
perate project which was frustrated only by the alertness, vigor, and energy of La
fayette, whose eloquent appeals induced the Legislature to compel the final abdi
cation of the emperor, under the alternative threat of forfeiture and expulsion.
Five comraissioners, with Lafayette at the head, appointed by the charabers, pro
ceeded to the head-quarters of the allied sovereigns, at Haguenau, to treat for
peace ; but, vvhile negotiations were pending, the foreign armies pushed on tow
ard the capital, and he returned on July 3d, to find that Paris had capitulated
and was at the raercy of the conquerors, who dictated their own terms, forcibly
dissolved the Corps Legislatif, and replaced Louis XVIII. on the throne. La
fayette retired to Lagrange, but was again elected, in 1 8 1 7, a deputy, in spite of
the strenuous opposition of the Government, and exerted his influence in favor
of Uberal raeasures, though with indifferent success. In 1824, on the invitation of
President Monroe, he revisited this country, travelled through every State, was
received with the highest honors by Congress (which voted hira $200,000 and a
township of land for his services), by legislatures, by coUeges, by corporations of
cities, by societies of all kinds, by his surviving comrades of the revolution, and
by the whole nation ; took part in the laying of the corner-stone of the Bunker
HiU Monument June 17, 1825, and sailed for home in September, on the United
States frigate Brandywine, which had been put at his disposal by the Govern
ment. Soon after his return to France he was re-elected to the Corps Legislatif,
and serv^ed as a raeraber for most of the reraainder of his life. The stupid
tyranny of King Charles X. having caused an outbreak of the Parisians in Julv,
1830, Lafayette unhesitatingly espoused the popular cause, and, though nearlv
seventy-three years old, accepted the coramand of the National Guard ; after a
conflict of three days the royal troops gave way, the king abdicated, to be suc
ceeded by the Duke of Orleans as King Louis Philippe, and Lafayette had the
satisfaction of contributing largely to the establishment of what he had advo
cated so strongly forty years before — a constitutional monarchy. He died at his
home, in the country, on May 20, 1834, but his remains were taken to Paris for
interment, and as the funeral train passed through the streets the lamentations on
every hand attested the affection and the sorrow of the people. Few men have
lived who present a figure so attractive to the eye of the student ; fewer still, so
prominent on the theatre of history, vvho will bear, witii so little possibility of
censure, the closest scrutiny, the .severest judgment. His actions were visible to
all the world, his motives were transparent, his sentiments vvere unconcealed, his

CHARLOTTE CORDAY

229

life was blameless. To the physical endowments of dignity of person and resist
less charm of raanner he added all desirable qualities of head and heart, a daunt
less courage, an enthusiasm beautiful and yet consistent, a sublime patriotism, a
disinterested generosity. If, with all these, he seems to have failed of achieving
the highest success, it was because not of what he lacked but of what he pos
sessed in the fuUest degree, a lofty integrity that forbade him to pander to the
passions of the mob, a suprerae regard for the rights of the coraraunity ^nd of
the individual. He raight have snatched the sovereign powder, but in doing it he
would have lost his self-respect. In place, then, of glittering success, he obtained
the quiet admiration of mankind and the loving gratitude of two nations.

7r-'^, ^€c/c.

CHARLOTTE CORDAY*

Bv Oliver Optic

(l 768-1 793)
THE despotism of Louis XIV. and the exhaustion of
the finances by his wars and his reckless extravagance
had reduced France to a very unhappy condition. His
son, the Grand-Dauphin, died four years before his father,
and his grandson, the Duke of Burgundy, a year later.
Louis the Great was therefore succeeded by his great-
grandson, Louis XV. During this reign the nation con
tinued on the decline. He was followed by his grandson,
Louis XVL, a better man than his iramediate predecessor,
but too weak to carry out the reforms necessary to restore
the prosperity of the nation. Voltaire, Rousseau, Mon
tesquieu, and many other writers, as well as the influence
of the Ameripan Revolution, had fostered democratic ideas araong the people,
for the government was reeking with abuses.
The parliament had not assembled for three-quarters of a century ; but rep
resentatives of the people met in 1789, in spite of the opposition of the king.
The extreme of license foUowed the extreme of absolutism. The king opposed
the Constituent Assembly, for this body changed its name several times, till the
political conflict ended in the death by the guillotine of Louis XVI., and later
by the execution of his queen, Marie Antoinette. For every two hundred and
fifty of the gross population there was a member of the nobility vvho was ex
empted from the payraent of any land tax, though this kind of property vvas
almost exclusively in their possession, and frora many other taxes and burdens,
* Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

230 WORKMEN AND HEROES
which aU the more heavily weighed down the great body of the people. The
latter had a long list of genuine grievances which the king and his advisers re
fused to remedy.
The revolution became an accoraplished fact in the capture and destruction
of the Bastille, on July 14, 1789, which day is srill celebrated as a narional
holiday in France. It had been for hundreds of years a prison for political of
fenders, and was regarded by the people as the principal emblem and instrument
of tyranny. The population became as intemperate as their rulers had been,
thousands perished by the guillotine, and the reign of terror was established.
The National Convention proclaimed a republic ; but this body was divided by
conflicting opinions, and had not the power to inaugurate their ideal govern
ment. Blood flowed in rivers, and the reaction was infinitely raore terrible than
the tyranny which had produced it.
The Convention was divided into at least four parties, though the lines which
separated them were not very clearly defined. The Jacobins were the most
prominent, and the most radical. It had its origin in the Jacobin Club, formed
in Versailles, taking its name from a convent in which it met. This organiza
tion soon spread through its branches all over France, and its party was the most
violent and blood-thirsty in the convention. Danton, Robespierre, Marat, Des
moulins, and other desperate leaders were of this faction.
The Girondists were next in numbers and influence. They were the moder
ate republicans of the time, though at first they were inclined to accept the con
stitution, and favor a limited monarchy. Its name came from the earliest lead
ers of the party who were representatives frora the departraent of the Gironde.
Its members labored to check the violence and bloodshed of the times, and
raight be called the respectable party of the period. Unfortunately they were in
the rainority, and all the members of the party in the Convention who did not
escape, were arrested, convicted, and guillotined.
The Montagnards (mountaineers) or Montagne (Mountain) vvas the term ap
plied to the Democrats holding the most extreme views, though its merabers were
also Jacobins and Cordeliers. Among them were the most blood-thirsty, unrea
sonable, and intolerant men of the tirae, for Danton, Robespierre, Marat, St.
Just, and others of that stamp, affiliated with them. They took their narae from
the fact that they were grouped together in the uppermost seats of the chamber
of the Convention. The Cordeliers was hardly more than another name for a
club of the same men, so called from the chapel of a Franciscan monastery where
they held their meetings.
Jean Paul Marat was one of the 'most prorainent personages of the Revolu
tion, whose infamy will continue to be perpetuated down to generations yet to
come, with other of his red-handed associates. He was a Frenchman, though he
spent considerable time in HoUand and Great Britain, where he practised medi
cine, having studied the profession at Bordeaux. He made some reputation as a
political writer, and in Edinburgh obtained a degree. It is believed that he vvas
convicted for stealing, and sentenced to five years imprisonment at Oxford under

CHARLOTTE CORDAY AND MARAT

PAUL-JACQUES-AIME BAUDRY

P/^UI, - JAC Q UE S - AIME BAUD I

"PRctD^T-a-v-iire LrUiioArrc BascFit

PHINTKD in THf. Hf^S ¦.¦Hi. it

CHARLOTTE CORDAY 231
several aliases. Perhaps he vvas sincere in his opinions, and he threw himself
vigorously into the vvork of the Revolution in Paris, issuing inflammatory pam
phlets, which he caused to be printed and circulated secretly. ITe established an
infaraous journal, attacking the king and all his supporters, and especially the
Girondists, whose moderation disgusted him. His virulence caused him to be
intensely hated, and twice he was compelled to flee to London, and once to hide
in the sewers. In the latter he contracted a loathsome disease of the skin which
soon began to eat away his life ; and his sufferings from it intensified his zeal and
his hatred. Marat vvas elected to the Convention as a delegate from Paris. Perhaps he
was to a greater degree responsible for the September massacre than any other
man. While he was dying of his malady he^vas urging on his fanatical raeas
ures, and declared that most of the merabers of the Convention, Mirabeau first,
ought to be executed. His raost virulent hatred was directed against the Girond
ists, whose execution he advocated with all the venom of his nature. Though
he could write only when seated in a bath, he continued to hurl his invectives
against them, impatient for the guillotine to do its gory work upon them.
The avenger was at hand. Charlotte Corday d'Armont was the granddaugh
ter of Corneille, the great tragic poet of France. Though of noble descent, she
was born in a cottage, for her father was a country gentleraan so poor that he
could not support his faraily. His daughters worked in the fields like the peas
ants, till he was corapelled to abandon thera. Then they obtained adraission to
a convent in Caen, where they were received on account of their birth and their
poverty. The library furnished Charlotte abundant reading matter, and she read
works on philosophy, though she also rather inflated her imagination by the peru
sal of romances, which had some influence on her after life.
When monasteries and convents were abolished, she was turned loose upon
the world ; but her aunt, as poor almost as her father, took the young woman,
now nineteen years old, to her horae in Caen. Charlotte had developed into a
beautiful girl, rather tall,' honest, and innocent. She had irabibed republican
sentiments from her fath,er in spite of his nobility, and Caen was the head-quar
ters of the Girondists. She was familiar with the details of the struggle between
the Jacobins and the Girondists, and they inspired her with an intense feeling
against the persecutors of her people, as she regarded the latter. The members
of that party who had been driven from Paris instructed her. She was a woman ;
but if she had been a queen she had the nerve to rule a nation and fight its bat
tles. A tremendous purpose took possession of her being. It was not prompted
by the spirit of revenge. She was mistaken, but she believed that the removal
of Marat was the remedy for the evils of the time ; and this became the vvork of
her life, upon which she entered, fully conscious that her path ended at an igno
minious grave. She had an adrairer in a young raan by the name of Franquelin,
and though she favored hira she sacrificed her attachraent to what she regarded
as a lofty, even a sublirae duty. She had the raeans to proceed to Paris and she

232 WORKMEN AND HEROES
went by the coach. She deceived her aunt, her father, and her sisters with the
statement that she was going to England in search of remunerative employraent.
She went to a hotel in the great city which had been recorameaded to her in
Caen. A friend had given her a letter of recommendation to Duperret, a Girondist
deputy, by the aid of which she hoped to get into the presence of Marat. She
had arranged a plan for the assassination of the brawling fanatic, and it was to
take place at the celebration of the anniversary of the destruction of the BastiUe,
July 14th, on the Champ de Mans. She desired to do the deed as publicly as
possible, not to raake it sensational, but in order to produce the stronger impres
sion upon the rainds of the people. The postponement of the celebration, for the
suppression of the rebellion among the Ven deans, prevented the execution of her
first plan, and she then decided to strike down her victim in his seat at the " sum
mit of the mountain," in the midst of the victim's accomplices. Then she learned
that Marat was confined to his lodgings by his malady. She promptly determined
to confront hira in his own horae.
She wrote a note to him, professing to be a sufferer at the hands of the Gi
rondists, asking for an appointment at his house. He made it, but vvas unable to
keep it. She vvrote another note, and then went to the house in the Rue de
r Ecole de Medecine, now a part of the Boulevard St. Germain. The woman
with whom Marat lived refused to adrait her, and she crowded up a short stair
way. Her intended victim heard the altercation, and suspecting it was the person
who had sent hira two notes, he called out to Catherine Everard to admit her.
Charlotte had visited the Palais Royal and purchased a knife, which was con
cealed in her bosom in readiness to do the deed.
Marat, though at the height of his pernicious influence, lived in mean and
squalid apartments, in a sort of pride of poverty as " the friend of the people."
In spite of his disease, which compelled hira to work in a bath, he was alwavs
busy. The room was littered wnth papers and pamphlets. He was onty five feet
in height, with a naturally disagreeable face, increased by his malady. At the
very time his visitor entered his den, he was raaking out on a board before him a
list of Girondists to be executed. She would not look at him, but she told hira
a story she had invented, and gave him the names of Girondist refugees at Caen ;
to which he replied as he vvrote them down, that " they should have the guillo
tine before they were a week olden"
At these words, as though they had steeled her arm, she drew the knife from
her bosom, and vvith superhuman power, plunged it to the hilt and to the heart
of Marat. He called for help and then expired. Assistance came, and the house
was thronged with National Guards and policemen. They were necessary to
save the murderess from the fury of those who forced their wav into the house.
She was arrested, and conveyed in the same carriage in which she had come to
the Conciergerie. All Paris groaned and howled.
She had the form of a trial, and the guillotine quickly foUowed it. Her for
titude did not forsake her at any tirae, and she died as firraly as any martyr ever

MADAME ROLAND

233

went to the stake. Her beauty and her heroism excited the syrapathy of the
crowd, but they could not save her. She was a mistaken heroine, but her cour
age and fortitude were sublime.

MADAME ROLAND*
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

(1754-1793)

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ITERANCE has produced many remarkable

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women ; perhaps no other country can
boast such an array of illustrious names ;
they shine from the pages of French his
tory like fixed stars from the firmament.
Among them, down the long vista of a hun
dred years, brilliant and beautiful, shines the
name of Madame Roland, the spirit of the
great French Revolution personified.
Striking beauty, great genius, and won
derful courage in the hour of martyrdora,
rendered this woman an unusual character
in an unusual epoch. Surrounded by de
ceit, she was honest and fearless. In the
raidst of iraraorality and license, she was
pure, and brave enough to resist temptation
which came from without and from within,
and she went to the scaffold with an untar
nished name and soul.
Manon Philipon, as Madame Roland was known in her childhood, was
born in Paris in the year 1 754. Her father was a worker in enamel, who
thrived weU enough in his art when he was content to toil at it, but a restless
spirit of speculation led him into ventures which brought him neither profit
nor renown.
Manon's beauty was a direct inheritance from bo.th father and mother.
Gratien Philipon was a handsome man, and vain and frivolous as he was hand
sorae ; but his beautiful wife was serious-minded, and much the superior of her
husband in intellect as well as raorals. Of seven children born to this couple,
only one liv^ed — Manon, the subject of our sketch — who inherited the combined
* Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

234 WORKMEN AND HEROES
beauty of both parents, with the rectitude and high ideals of the mothen But
there lies no explanation of inheritance from either father or mother to make
us understand how the child of these comraon people became at nine years of
age a student of Plutarch, Tasso, and Voltaire, and a philosopher at the age of
eleven. It requires a deeper law than that of heredity to explain these things.
At ten, Manon developed a strongly religious tendency, which was fostered,
no doubt, by daily studying the " Lives of the Saints." While reading the ac
counts of martyrs who had died at the stake rather than resign their faith, the
child often regretted that she had not lived in those "good old days," so happy a
thing it seemed to her to die for one's principles. This privilege was granted
her in after-years, strangely enough ; and she proved as courageous in reality as
she had in chUdhood imagined herself capable of being under sirailar circura
stances. Manon's religious feelings were culminated by a request raade to her raother,
in a paroxysm of tears, that she might be placed in a convent to prepare herself
for her first coramunion ; accordingly, she was taken to the Convent of the " Sis
ters of the Congregation" in May, 1765, when she was eleven years old. Side by
side with this nunnery, where the precocious child passed one of the happiest
epochs of her life, stood the prison which was to immure her in later years.
Should such a circumstance and situation be unfolded in the pages of fiction,
we would call it strained and unnatural.
During the year Manon passed in the convent, she made the acquaintance
of two sisters, Henrietta and Sophie Cannet, who were allied to the nobility ;
and she afterward attributed her facility in writing to the correspondence with
the younger of these sisters, which continued without interruption over more
than a decade of years. In her memoirs, written under the shadow of the guil
lotine, she says, " In the gloora of a prison, in the raidst of political storms, how
shall I recall to my mind, and how describe, the rapture, the tranquillity I enjoyed
at that period ; but when I review the events of my life, I find it difficult to as
sign to circurastances that variety and that plenitude of affection which have
so strongly marked every point of its duration, and left me so clear a remem
brance of every place at which I have been."
. After she left the convent, she found her passion for reading unabated, and
as her father's library was limited, she was obliged to borrow and hire books ;
from these she made copious extracts and abstracts which formed her valuable
habit of reflection upon what she had read.
Her first feelings of contempt and bitterness toward the aristocrats were
roused by the air of condescension which the Cannets exhibited to her in her
occasional visits to Sophie. They were stupid and arrogant people, but they
made her realize that the daughter of an artisan was not on equal footing with
people aUied to the nobility, albeit she was a prodigy of beauty, learning, and
talent, and they the dullest of beings.
" I endeavored," she says, "to think with hope that everything was right, but
my pride told rae things were ordered better in a republic." So, as early as at

MADAME ROLAND 235
the age of fourteen, we find this remarkable being philosophizing upon republics,
and taking part in mind against the evils and injustice fostered by monarchies.
Madame Roland wandered from prescribed creeds, and became a liberal in her
religious ideas. She has been called an Atheist, but every line she writes, and
her life of self-sacrifice, disprove this assertion. Her " one prayer," to which she
says she confined herself, is, to my mind, sublime with beautiful and practical
religion. " O Thou who hast placed me on the earth, enable me to fulfil my destination
in the manner most conformable to the Divine will, and most beneficial to my
fellow-creatures." I can imagine no more perfect religious faith, no more complete submission
to, and acknowledgment of, a Suprerae Power than this prayer contains. It
strikes me as far more devout and respectful than the prayers of many people
who endeavor to dictate to God and direct Him what to do and what not to do,
what to bestow and what to withhold.
She writes of her religious agitations with great reluctance to Sophie Cannet,
fearful of disturbing the serenity of her friend's convictions ; but she continued
to conform to her mother's religious ideas during that good woman's life, and
even afterward she kept up the forms of Catholicism for the sake of a valued
family servant who was devoted to her.
This delicate consideration of the feelings of others has been mistaken by
some bigoted rainds for deceit or vacillation on the part of Madame Roland ; as
if such a being were capable of either.
We owe all our knowledge of her early private life to the volurainous corre
spondence between her and Sophie Cannet ; to this friend she wrote those long,
journal-like letters, in which one young girl often pours out the inraost secrets
of her heart and soul to another ; but, unlike the letters of the ordinary girl,
Manon's contained criticisms of the books she had read, and discussions of philo
sophical subjects, which bear evidence to her wonderful precocity of thought and
feeling in her "teens."
Originality, unselfishness, genius of the rarest order, are all displayed in these
letters ; already had her mind grasped some great truths which it requires the
average philosopher half a century to discover, when at seventeen, she says,
" Man is the epitome of the universe. The revolutions of the world without
are an image of those which take place in his own soul."
Upon the news of the mortal illness of Louis XV., she writes to Sophie this
strongly humanitarian passage : "Although the obscurity of my birth, name, "and
position seera to preclude me frora taking any interest in the government, yet
the common weal touches me in spite of it. My country is something to me,
and the love I bear it is unquestionable. How could it be otherwise when noth
ing in the world is indifferent to me ? A love of humanity unites me to every
thing that breathes. A Caribbean interests rae ; the fate of a Kaffir goes to ray
heart. Alexander wished for more worlds to conquen I could wish for more
to love."

236 WORKMEN AND HEROES
In spite of her philosophy, her seriousness, and her learning, however, Manon
Philipon was a girl, and a charming one ; and we learn in her letters to Sophie
how she was pestered with lovers of low and high degree, during her long maid
enhood. I might better say with proposals for her hand, since, as we know,
French custom does not perrait the " love-making " which American girls consid
er their natural prerogative.
Manon was so beautiful, brilliant, and magnetic, that when she went out to
promenade with her father, she was greeted with admirin'g glances and remarks ;
and frora the fruit vender of whom she made occasional purchases, and the
butcher who served the family with joints, to dancing and drawing masters, up
along the line to raerchants, professional, and literary men, she seemed to fasci
nate and attract with no effort on her own part.
Each one in turn asked for her hand and was rejected ; and a host of others
foUowed, to meet a similar fate, until her father threatened to marry her to the
first stranger who crossed his portal, whether either one wished it or no. She
says in her memoirs, " The respectable character of ray mother, the appear
ance of some fortune, and my being an only child, made the project of matri
mony a tempting one to a number of persons who were strangers to me. The
greater part, finding it difficult to obtain an introduction, adopted the expedient
of writing to my father. These letters were always shown to me. I wrote the
answers, which ray father faithfuUy copied. I vvas much amused at acting the
part of my own father, and dismissed my suitors with dignity, leaving no room
for resentment or hope. Here began to break out those dissensions with rav
father which lasted ever after. He loved and respected coramerce, I despised it ;
and he was much concerned at my rejection of suitors who possessed any fort
une." After the death of Madame PhUipon, which occurred in her daughter's
tvventy-finst year, Manon's life at horae became almost unbearable. Her extreme
grief impaired her health, and anxiety and mortification were added by the ex
cesses and frivolous extravagances into which her father plunged. He formed
as.sociations with people of bad character, and took to gambling. Manon
strove to raake herself an agreeable companion, and to entertain him at home,
but the atterapt was futile. She filled her lonely hours with study, and with
writing letters to Sophie. One day a tall, thin gentleman, bald and yellow, past
forty, and looking older, presented a letter of introduction from Miss Cannet.
It was M. Roland, an austere philosopher, of an ancient family, to whom So
phie had often referred. Manon admired his intellect and his respectabUity ;
and when, after some two or three years, he raade an offer of marriage she was
ready to accept ; but M. Philipon bluntly and insolc^itly refused his consent,
through a strong personal dislike which he had conceived for the .severe moralist
and philosopher.
Manon could not marry against her father's wishes, but she could leave the
home now so distasteful to hen She had saved only a small sum from her moth
er's fortune, amounting to about one hundred doUars per yean With this, she

MADAME ROLAND , 237
retired to the Convent of the Congregation, and shut herself up with her books,
and received only her old friends.
M. Roland, for whose sake she had taken so decisive a step, vvas far from an
ardent lover in his conduct at this juncture. He wrote her affectionately, but
he made no reference to his proposal of marriage until six months had passed.
Then he carae to Paris, had an interview through iron gratings, and expressed
himself determined to make her his wife. Since she had left her father's roof,
she was at liberty to accept his somewhat tardy proposal, and she emerged, from
the convent to become Madame Roland.
We have seen that M. Roland was not an ardent lover, and it is readily un
derstood that this beautiful, intense girl, in the very prirtie of young womanhood,
was not in love with him. She felt only esteem for his virtues, and admiration
for his intellect. But she was twenty-five years old, and virtually horaeless ; of
all the score of men who had sought her hand in raarriage, no one had ever
stirred her heart, and she married, believing, no doubt, that this cold regard and
high admiration which the character of M. Roland elicited, was all that she could
feel for any raan.
It was not until the thunders of the Revolution shook the world, that her
heart awoke to real passion ; and even then, in a situation where hundreds of
women who have professed greater religious fervor, have fallen, she conquered
herself, and virtually died to protect her husband's life.
During the first year of their marriage, the Rolands lived in Paris. Manon
had imagined a happy association with her friends, the Cannets ; but her hus
band was morbidly jealous of these friends, and extracted a promise from her
that she vv^ould see them as little as possible. She became his amanuensis- and
secretary, and scarcely ever left his side.
During the next ten years we find her passing the greater part of her time in
the Clos de la Platiere, an ancient and humble country-seat belonging to the Ro
land family. Here, with her taxing domestic duties, the exactions of her hus
band, the care of her child Eudora, the tyrannies of her aged mother-in-law, this
wonderful woraan had little opportunity for the exercise of her talents.
It seems strange to think of this beautiful martyr, whose name is a synonym
for all that is grand and heroic, passing the best years of her womanhood in pre
paring dishes for the appetite of a dyspeptic husband, in looking after house-
linen, and arranging lessons for a chUd. Matilda Blind says " This affects one
with something of the ludicrous disproportion of making use of the fires of Etna
to fry one's eggs by."
Yet Madame Roland performed these and less agreeable duties as cheerfully
and as perfectly as she had perforraed her chosen tasks in the convent years be
fore. Women doctors were not known in those days, but the genius of Madame
Roland embraced a knowledge of raedicine with other things ; and she often
went three leagues to relieve a sick peasant, and was ever ready to sacrifice her
self for the good of others.
There was very little happiness for her in the companionship of her bus-

238 WORKMEN AND HEROES
band. He was twenty-two years her senior, and possessed an imperious temper
and an exacting nature. But the most ardent wife could not have better, per
formed her duty to the most lovable of husbands.
Naturally democratic in her feelings and sympathies, Madame Roland took.
the keenest interest in the progress of the Revolution ; from her quiet retreat
she studied its leading members, and when, in 1791, her husband was chosen
deputy to the Consrituent Asserably, she accompanied him to Paris, and their
apartments became the rendezvous for such men as Brissot, Buzot, Danton,
Robespierre, Perion, and many more, who raet to confer with one another and
to exchange ideas and suggestions. Madarae Roland sat apart with her era-
broidery and listened. Of these meerings she speaks thus in her "Memoirs" :
" Good ideas were started and exceUent principles maintained ; but there was no
path marked out, no determinate point toward which each person should direct
his views. Sometiraes for very vexation, I could have boxed the ears of these
philosophers." Had not her sex precluded this sUent spirit of the Girondists from taking
part in these counsels, if, instead of acting second hand through her husband, she
could have taken the lead, as her genius, perception, honesty, and courage en
titled her to do, who knows that she might not have averted the disasters which
befell the party through its dissensions.
In March, 1792, Roland was elected minister of the interior; and Madame
Roland presided over the estabhshment that had been sumptuously fitted up for
Madarae Necken ' Roland became the idol of the patriotic party, and was en
chanted with his excellent position. He urged upon King Louis XVL, in whom
he reposed great faith, the necessity of a decree against the priesthood, and the
establishment of a camp in the suburbs of Paris. Louis demurred, Roland in
sisted in the famous letter written by his wife, and placed in the king's hands
June I Ith. This letter became immensely popular. The Assembly ordered it
to be printed and copies sent to all departraents, together with expressions of na
tional regret at the discharge of Roland and his friends, which the letter caused.
But they were recaUed to office after the dreadful August loth.
Twice a week Madame Roland gave a dinner to fifteen of her husband's col
leagues, with whora he wished to converse. No other lady was present. The
Girondists were at the apex of society, and Madame Roland was the life and im
petus of the party. She endeavored to infuse its members with her hatred of
false pride and old prejudices, and with her desire to establish a liberal democ
racy. Always enthusiastic, and vexed with the lack of unity and direct purpose
in the Assembly, she was over-zealous in sorae of her suggestions.
Among the brilliant men whom she entertained at these dinners, was one,
young, handsome, elegant, and refined, whose many manly qualities woke in her
heart that long-delayed passion which a nature so ardent must sometime feel.
This man was Buzot ; and he was as irresistibly drawn to this beautiful, briUiant
woman as the magnet to the steel.
Madame Roland was at this time thirty-eight years old ; her brilliant color

MADAME ROLAND 239
and her open expression made her look rauch younger, and her tall, finely dev^el-
oped form, her splendid eyes and engaging smile, charmed and attracted all who
came near hen But though domestic life and morality were held at the lowest
possible value in those chaotic days, and each man made a law for hiraself, Ma
dame Roland never wavered in her loyalty and devotion to the raan whose name
she bore. Only through her remarkable letters written to Buzot from her prison
cell, and never made public till 1863, does the glory and intensity of her hopeless
passion display itself.
From the very first, Madame Roland had distrusted Danton. It was not
long before her intuitions proved correct, for Danton soon showed his jealousy
and dislike of the minister, whora he found too honest to taraper with. He
feared, too, the penetration, frankness, and genius of Roland's wife. Men who
saw the insidious, selfish qualities of Danton, began to cultivate and conciliate him
out of fear of his enraity.
Robespierre, whom Madame Roland had at first believed in as an honest
friend to liberty, becarae an ally of Danton and Marat, and Roland soon realized
that it was not the raonarchists he had to contend against, but the new party head
ed by these dissenting Girondists, who were savage with a thirst for human blood.
The Rolands were accused of trying to establish an aristocracy of talent on
the ruins of a monarchical aristocracy ; their semi-weekly dinners were represented
as sumptuous feasts where, like a new Circe, Madame Roland strove to corrupt
the unfortunates who partook of her banquets.
She was called before the Convention December 7th, to listen to the charges
against her ; her eloquence won the admiration of even her enemies. But her
safety was in danger, and she was obliged to sleep with a pistol under her pillow
for fear of the outrages of desperadoes who lurked about her house.
The strife between the two parties grew more bitter, and the downfall of Ro
land had been determined upon by his savage opponents, once his fawning friends
and colleagues. An attempt was made to arrest Roland by six armed men, depu
ties of the Insurrectionists. He replied that he did not recognize their authority,
and refused to follow them. Madame Roland at once set off for the Tuileries,
where the Insurrectionists, more cruel and bloodthirsty than the deposed Mon
archists, were in session. At the door the sentinels forbade her to enten Obliged
to return home without having been enabled to address the Convention, as she
hoped to do, she found that her husband had taken refuge in the house of a friend.
She sought him out, embraced him, and returned once raore to the Tuileries
in another vain hope of arousing their forraer friends to resolute action. But she
was obliged to return to her apartment in the evening, without having accom
plished anything. Late that night she was torn frora her child and her home, and
cast into the Prison of the Abbaye, from which she vvas set at liberty a raonth
later, and wild with happiness, aUowed to reach her own door ; but as she at
tempted to enter she was again seized and conveyed to the Prison of Sainte
P^lagie. The respite had only been given in malice to render her second incar
ceration more bitten

240 WORKMEN AND HEROES
Under the same roof were murderers and women of the town ; and in the
raorning, when the cell-doors were opened, the scura of the earth, as one author
ity tells us, collected in the corridon On each side of this corridor (the only
place where the prisoners could take exercise) were smaU cells, and one of these,
separated only by thin walls from the most depraved beings, whose vile language
was constantly audible to her ears, this refined and elegant woman was forced to
occupy. She suffered acutely from this proximity to depravity and vulgarity
at first ; but ere long she transformed the vicinity in which her cell was situated
" from an inferno to an oasis of peace." When she walked in the corridor, where
at first she was pointed at, abused and reviled, she was now surrounded by
wretched beings who clung to her skirts and regarded her as a divinity. Her
sweet voice soothed brawls, her words of courage inspired the most hopeless.
Everybody loved her, everybody desired her acquittal.
Meantirae she was writing her faraous " Meraoirs," and the touching letters to
her husband, her child, and to Buzot. After an imprisonment of more than six
months, she was finally called before the judge and the prosecution, and accused
of being the wife of Roland, the conspirator, the friend of his accomplices.
Twenty-one Girondists had already been executed, and she could not hope to
escape. She was condemned to death as guilty of traitorous relations with con
spirators. She heard the sentence proudly, and replied, " You consider me
worthy to share the fate of the great men whom you have assassinated. I shall
try to carry to the scaffold the courage they have shown."
Robespierrre signed her death-warrant. He had been her friend, guest, and
correspondent. She had helped him when he was unknown, defended him when
he was in need of a defenden- But he sent her to the scaffold ; and on Novem
ber 9, 1 793, the tumbril came to convey her to the guillotine. It had taken
many others on that same day ; and now her only companion on that fatal ride
vvas a trembling old man named La Marche. He wept bitterly, but Madame
Roland cheered him with words of courage and strength.
When they arrived at the Place de la Concorde, she begged the executioner
to permit the "eriquette of the scaffold" to be waived, and to aUow La Marche
to die first, that the sight of her death might not accentuate his fear and misery.
So to the last moment of her life she was true to her religion of thoughtfulness
for others.Beautiful, self-possessed, and calra, she stood upon the scaffold in the pride
of her womanhood, and spoke those last iramortal words as she lifted her eves to
the statue of Liberty, "O Liberty, how raany crimes are coramitted in thv name."
Then the axe fell, and the assassins of the Revolution had added another
victim to their list. Seven days after this event, M. Roland committed suicide
by stabbing himself through the heart.

> MARIE ANTOINETTE

241

MARIE ANTOINETTE
By Mrs. Octavius Freire Owen

(i 755-1 793) MARIA Theresa, the Empress of
Austria, was not highly edu
cated ; and she was incapable of di
recting the studies of her children,
although by precept and example
she laid the foundation of characters,
all of which became more or less
remarkable. Marie Antoinette, her
youngest child, was perhaps the
raost neglected. She once inno
cently caused the dismissal of her
governess, through a confession that
all the letters and drawings shown to
her mother, in proof of her improve
ment, had been previously traced
with a pencil. At fifteen her knowl
edge of Itahan, studied under Met
astasio, was the only branch of her
education which had been fairly at
tended to, if we except considerable
conversance with the " Lives of the Saints" and other legendary lore, the favor
ite fictions of monastic compilers. Nature had, nevertheless, done much for the
young archduchess ; she possessed great facility for learning, and was not slow in
taking advantage of opportunities for iraproveraent when they were afforded.
In person she was raost attractive. " Beaming with freshness," says Madame
Campan, " she appeared to all eyes more than beautiful. Her walk partook at
once of the noble character of the princesses of her house and of the graces of
the French ; her eyes were mild, her smile lovely. It was irapossible to refrain
from admiring her aerial deportment ; her smile was sufficient to win t.ie heart ;
and in this enchanting being, in whora the splendor of French gayety shone forth,
an indescribable but august serenity — perhaps, also, the somewhat proud posi
tion of her head and shoulders — betrayed the daughter of the Caesars." Such,
according to her affectionate chronicler, appeared Marie xVntoinette, when her
nuptials were celebrated at VersaUles with the Dauphin of France.
Superstitious minds discovered fatal omens from the earliest years of the hap
less dauphiness. She had begun ill by first drawing breath upon the ver)^ day of
the earthquake of Lisbon ; this made a great impression on the raother, and later
16

242 WORKMEN AND HEROES
upon the child also. Another incident was not less discouraging : the empress
had " protected a person named Gassner," who fancied himself inspired, and af
fected to predict events. "TeU me," she said to him one day, "whether my An
toinette wiU be happy ? " At first Gassner turned pale and remained silent, but,
urged by the empress, and dreading to distress her by his own fancies, he said,
equivocally, " Madame, there are crosses for all shoulders." Goethe notices that
a pavUion erected to receive Marie Antoinette and her suite in the neighborhood
of Strasburg was lined with tapestry depicring the story of Jason, "the most
fatal union " on record ; and a few days later, when the young queen arrived
from Versailles to witness the rejoicings of the people upon her marriage, she
was compelled to fly, terrified, frora a scene remarkable not for festivity and hap
piness, but for the variety and horror of its accidents. These circumstances
threw a gloom over the prospective triumphs of the impressionable bride ; but
her nature and age vvere alike favorable to vivacity, and she shook off the mor
bid influence.
Something of her raother's wise advice to her as to the course she should
follow in her new position has been preserved in the following letter :
" My Dear Daughter :
" . . . Do not take any recommendations ; listen to no one, if you
would be at peace. Have no curiosity, — this is a fault which I fear greatly for
you ; avoid all famiUarity with your inferiors. Ask of Monsieur and Madarae
de NoaiUes, and even exact of them, under aU circumstances, advice as to what,
as a foreigner and being desirous of pleasing the nation, you should do,
and that they should tell you frankly if there be anything in your bearing, dis
course, or any point which you should correct. Reply araiably to every one, and
with grace and dignity ; you can if you will. You raust learn to refuse. . . .
After Strasburg you must accept nothing without taking counsel of Monsieur
and Madarae de Noailles ; and you should refer to thera every one who would
speak to you of his personal affairs, saying frankly that being a stranger yourself,
you cannot undertake to recommend any one to the king. If you wish you mav
add, in order to make your reply more emphatic, ' The erapress, my mother, has
expressly forbidden me to undertake any recommendations.' Do not be ashamed
to ask advice of any one, and do nothing on your own responsibility. ... In
the king you will find a tender father who wiU also be your friend if vou deserve
it. Put entire confidence in him ; you will run no risk. Love him, obey him,
seek to divine his thoughts ; you cannot do enough on this raoment when I am
losing you. . . . Concerning the dauphin I shall say nothing ; you know
my delicacy on this point. A wife should be submissive in everything to her
husband, and .should have no thought but to please hira and do his will. . . .
The only true happiness in this world lies in a happy raarriage ; I know whereof
I speak. Everything depends on the wife if she be yielding, sweet, and amus
ing. ... I counsel you, ray dear daughter, to reread this letter on the
twenty-first of every raonth. I beg you to be true to me on this point. My

MARIE ANTOINETTE 243
only fear for you is negligence in your prayers and studies ; and lukewarmness
succeeds negligence. Fight against it, for it is raore dangerous than a more rep
rehensible, even wicked state ; one can conquer that more easily. Love your
family ; be affectionate to them — to your aunts as well as to your brothers-in-law
and sisters-in-law. Suffer no evil-speaking ; you must either silence the persons,
or escape it by withdrawing frora them. If you value your peace of mind, you
must from the start avoid this pitfall, which I greatly fear for you knowing your
curiosity. ... " Your mother, " Maria-Theresa."
The grand annoyance Marie Antoinette experienced upon her entrance into
the French Court, was the necessity of observing a system of etiquette to which
she had been unaccustomed, and soon pronounced, with girlish veheraence, in
supportable. Barriere copies a ridiculous anecdote in iUustration of this frora
the manuscript fragments of Madarae Campan : " Madame de Noailles " (this
was the first lady of honor to the dauphiness) " abounded in virtues ; I cannot
pretend to deny it. Her piety, charity, and irreproachable morals rendered her
worthy of praise, but etiquette was to her a sort of atmosphere ; at the slightest
derangement of the consecrated order, one would have thought she vvould have
been stifled, and that life would forsake her frarae. One day I unintentionally
threw this poor lady into a terrible agony. The queen was receiving I know
not whora — sorae persons just presented, I believe; the lady of honor, the
queen's tire-woman, and the ladies of the bed-chamber were behind the queen.
I was near the throne with the two women on duty. All was right ; at least, I
thought so. Suddenly I perceived the eyes of Madame de Noailles fixed on
mine. She made a sign with her head, and then raised her eyebrows to the top
of her forehead, lowered thera, raised them again, then began to make little
signs with her hand. From all this pantomime, I could easily perceive that
soraething vvas not as it should be ; as I looked about on all sides to find out what
it was, the agitation of the countess kept increasing. The queen, who per
ceived all this, looked at me with a smile. I found means to approach her Maj
esty, who said to me in a whisper :¦' Lcl down your- lappets, or tltt countess i^'ill
expire.' All this bustle arose from two unlucky pins, which fastened up ray lap
pets, while the etiquette of costume said 'Lappets hanging down.'"
To the Countess de Noailles Marie Antoinette speedily gave the name of
Madame I'Etiquette ; this pleasantry the object of it could pardon, not so the
French nation. The avowed dislike to ceremony raanifested by the lively little
dauphiness, her desire to substitute the siraple manners of her native Vienna for
the stately formality of Versailles, displeased more than her genuine condescen
sion and affability attracted. Early also in her married life, to beguile the heavy
tedium of their evenings, she instituted a variety of childish games which became
talked of and condemned ; she liked theatrical representations, and persuaded her
two young brothers-in-law, with the princesses, to join her in perforraing plays,
and though they were kept secret for a tirae, she suffered for her innocent contri-

244 WORKMEN AND HEROES
vances in public opinion. It must be remembered that Marie Antoinette had
no sincere friends upon her arrival in France, except the Due de Choiseul and his
party, and his disgrace prevented her deriving rauch benefit frora the man who
had first negotiated her marriage. The house of Austria was looked upon with
dislike and doubt ; nor were these, even in the case of the young dauphin's aunt,
Madame Adelaide, made a matter of concealment. Thus, at her entrance iipon
public life, Antoinette was raet with cynicism and prejudice, and unfortunately
her own conduct rather increased than quieted the insidious voice — the " bruit
sourd" — of both.
Louis XV. had raanifested from the first great pleasure in the society of his
grandson's bride. After dining in his apartment at the Tuileries, upon her arri
val at Paris, she was obliged to acknowledge the shouts of the multitude, vvhich
filled the garden below, by presenting herself on the balcony. The Governor of
Paris had told her politely at the time, that " these were so many lovers." Little
did she think that at the very moment a strong party around her was planning
her divorce, under the supposition that the dauphin's coldness to his bride pro
ceeded from dislike. Louis was a timid, though rough, youth at the time, and
for a considerable period treated the attractions which the courtiers so highly
extoUed, with churlish indifference. The French king, indeed, did his best to
promote a better understanding, and when the reserve of the dauphin once
thawed, the latter becarae tenderly attached to her, and greatly improved by her
influence and society.
An interesting trait of this youthful pair is told, as occurring at the moment
when they might have been excused for entertaining other and more selfish
thoughts. They were expecting the intelligence of the death of Louis X\". It
had been agreed, as the disorder was one frightfully contagious, that the court
should depart immediately upon learning it could be of no further assistance, and
that a lighted taper, placed in the window of the dying monarch's chamber, should
form a signal for the cavalcade to prepare for the journey. The taper was extin
guished ; a tumult of voices and advancing feet were heard in the outer apartment.
" It was the crowd of courtiers deserting the dead sovereign's ante-chamber, to
come and bow to the new power of Louis XVI." With a spontaneous impulse
the dauphin and his bride threw themselves upon their knees, and shedding a tor
rent of tears, exclaimed, " O God ! guide us, protect us ; we are too young to
govern." Thus the Countess.de Noailles found them as she entered, the first to
salute Marie Antoinette as Queen of France.
For some tirae the young queen's liking for children was ungratified by the
possession of any of her own, and this gave rise to an amusing attempt to adopt
one belonging to others. One day, when she was driving near Luciennes, a little
peasant boy fell under the horses' feet, and might have been killed. The queen
took him to Versailles, appointed him a nurse, and installed him in the royal
apartments, constantly seating him in her lap at breakfast and dinnen This
child afterward grew up a most sanguinary revolutionist ! It was nine years be
fore Marie Antoinette had the blessing of any offspring ; four children were,

MARIE ANTOINETTE

BT
THBOPHILE GIDE

MARIE ANTOINETTE 245
after that interval, born to her, two of whom died in their infancy, and two sur
vived to share their parent's subsequent imprisonraent. The sad history of her
son's fate, a promising and attractive boy, is well known.
We have seen the Austrian princess was no favorite with her husband's na
tion. After a time accusations as unjust as serious assailed her, and in the hor
rors of the succeeding revolution the popular feeling evinced itself in a hundred
frightful ways. Louis XVL, a mild prince, averse to violence or bloodshed,
was unfit to stera the tide of opposition ; had he possessed the energy of his
queen, the Reign of Terror had perhaps never existed. Throughout her mis
fortunes, in every scene of flight, of opprobrium, and desolation, her magnanim
ity and courage won, even from the ruffians around, occasional expressions of
sympathy. A harrowing and melancholy history is hers, and one which has been
often vividly narrated ; its details, also, are sufficiently recent to be still fresh
within the recollection of many. For these reasons, and further because it seems
to us a repellent, if not a mischievous, act to araplify such records before ad
vancing age shall have invested thera to the mind with deeper significance, we
gladly pass over the picture suggested by this dark historical page, and, resuming
the narrative where Madame de Campan drops it, content ourselves vvith a de
scription of the last scene in the terrible drama.
When this devoted woman left her royal mistress in the miserable cell at the
Convent of the Feuillans, she never again saw her. Imprisonraent, and the in
tense grief she experienced, more for others than for herself, completely trans
forraed the once beautiful queen ; her hair was prematurely silvered, like that of
Mary Stuart, her figure bowed, her voice low and tremulous. Then carae the
separation frora the king. Once more only did her eyes again behold him, and
after the parting between the dethroned monarch and his adoring family, he
might indeed have been able to say, "The bitterness of death was passed."
However weak at intervals, the unhappy Louis raet his death heroically. The
sufferings of his wife at the time when the guns boomed out the fearful catas
trophe, may be supposed to have been as great as the huraan frame has power to
endure. Shortly after, she was separated from her children and conveyed to the
prison of the Conciergerie, a darap and loathsorae place, whence she was sum
moned one morning in October to receive a sentence for which it is probable
she ardently longed. Let us look at her through the bars of her prison upon her
return thither after it was pronounced.
It is four o'clock in the raorning. The widowed Queen of France stands calra
and resigned in her cell, listening with a raelancholy smile to the tumult of the
mob outside. A faint illumination announces the approach of day ; it is the last
she has to live ! Seating herself at a table she writes, with hurried hand, a last
letter of ardent tenderness to the sister of her husband, the pious Madarae Eliza
beth, and to her children ; and now she passionately presses the insensible paper
to her lips, as the sole reraaining link between those dear ones and herself. She
stops, sighs, and throws herself upon her raiserable pallet. What 1 in such an
hour as this can the queen sleep ? Even so !

246 WORKMEN AND HEROES
And now look up, daughter of the Caesars ! Thou art waked from dreams of
hope and light, from the imaged embrace of thy beloved Louis, thy tender in
fants, by a kind voice, choked by tears. Arise ! emancipa;ted one, thy prison
doors are open. Freedom, freedom is at hand !
Immediately in front of the palace of the Tuileries — scene of the short months
of her wedded happiness — there rises a dark, ominous mass. Around is a sea of
human faces ; above, the cold frown of a winter's sky. With a firm step the vic
tim ascends the stairs of the scaffold, her white garments wave in the chiU breeze,
a black ribbon by which her cap is confined beats tb and fro against her pale
cheeks. You may see that she is unmindful of her executioners — she glances,
nay, almost smUes, at the sharp edge of the guillotine, and then turning her eyes
toward the Temple, utters, in a fevv agitated words, her last earthly farewell to
Louis and her children. There is a hush — a sriUness of the grave — for the very
headsman trembles as the horrible blade falls — anon, a moment's delay. And
now, look ! No, rather veil your eyes from the dreadful sight ; close your ears
to that fiendish shout — Vive la Rdpiiblique ! It is over ! the sacrifice is accom
plished ! the weary spirit is at rest !
Let us dwell upon this last mournful pageant only sufficiently far as to imi
tate the virtues, and emulate the firmness and resignarion with which she met
her doom. Nothing is permitted without a meaning, all is for either warning
or exaraple ; and while breathing a prayer that Heaven raay avert a recurrence
of such outrages, let us remember that ijioral indecision, the undue love of pleas
ure, and an aimless, profitless mode of life, as surely, and not less fatally, may
raise the surging tide of events no human skill can quell, as the most selfish
abandonment to uncontrolled desires.

ANDREAS HOFER
(1767-1810)
'NDREAS HoFER, a native of the village of St. Leonard, in the vaUey
of Passeyr, was born on November 22, 1767. During the greater
part of his life he resided peaceably in his own neighborhood, where
he kept an inn, and increased his profits by dealing in wine, corn,
and cattle. About his neck he wore at all times a small crucifi.x
and a raedal of St. George. He never held any rank in the Austrian army ;
but he had formed a secret connection with the Archduke John, when that
prince had passed a few weeks in the Tyrol making .scientific researches. In
Noveraber, 1805, Hofer was appointed deputy from his native valley at the con
ference of Brunnecken, and again at a second conference, held at Arienna, in Jan
uary, 1809.

ANDREAS HOFER

247

The Tyrol had for many years been an appendage of the Austrian states, and
the inhabitants had become devoted to that government ; so that when, by the
treaty of Presburg, the province was transferred to the rule of the King of Ba
varia, then the ally of Napoleon I., the peas
ants were greatly irritated, and their discon
tent was further provoked by the large and
frequent exactions which the continual wars
obliged the new government to levy on the
Tyrolese. The consequence was, that when
their own neighborhood became the theatre
of military operations between Austria and
France, in the spring of 1809, ^ general
insurrection broke out in the Tyrol. His
resolution of character, natural eloquence,
and private influence as a wealthy citizen,
joined to a figure of great stature and
strength, pointed out Andreas Hofer to his
countrymen as the leader of this revolt ;
and with him were united Spechbacher, Jo
seph Haspinger, and Martin Teimer, whose
names have all become historical. A per
fect understanding was maintained between the insurgents and their late masters,
and the signal of the insurrection was given by the Archduke John in a proclama
tion from his headquarters at Klagenfurth. An Austrian array of 10,000 men.,
commanded by the Marquis Castellar, was directed to enter the Tyrol and sup
port the insurrection, which broke out in every quarter on the night of April 8,
1809. The Austrian general himself crossed the frontier at daybreak on the 9th.
On their side the Bavarians marched an army of 25,000 men into the province
to quell the revolt. Hofer and his band of arrhed peasantry fell upon the Bava
rians while entangled in the narrow glens, and on April loth defeated Besson and
Lemoine at the Sterzinger Moos. The next day a troop of peasants under Tei
mer took possession of Innsbruck. On the 12th Besson surrendered with his
division of 3,000 men. In a single week all the fortresses were recovered, nearly
10,000 troops of the enemy were destroyed, and the whole province vvas redeemed.
Incensed by this interruption of his plans. Napoleon despatched three armies
almost simultaneously to assail the province at three different points. One of
these forces was under the command of Marshal Lefebvre, who, on May 12th,
defeated the united army of the Austrian soldiers, under Castellar, and the Tyro
lese peasantry, under Haspinger and Spechbacher, at Feuer Singer. The troops
made a bad use of their victory, slaughtering the inhabitants of the villages on
their route, without distinction of age or sex. The Bav^arian and French officers
encouraged and took part in the excesses of the soldiers ; vvhile the insurgents,
far from retaliating, refrained from every species of license, and nursed their
wounded prisoners with the sarae care as their own friends. Hofer himself vvas

248 WORKMEN AND HEROES
not always present in acrion, his talent consisring rather in stimulating his coun
tryraen than in actual fighring ; but at the battle of Innsbruck (May 28, 1809),
he led the Tyrolese, exhibited both skill and daring, and defeated the Bavarians
vvith a loss of 4,000 men. The whole of the Tyrol was delivered a second time.
But after the battle of Wagram (July 6th), and the arraistice of Znaim which im
mediately followed, the Austrian army was obliged to evacuate the Tyrol, leav
ing the helpless insurgents to the mercy of an exasperated enemy. Marshal Le
febvre now invaded the province a second time, and entered it by the road from
Salzburg, with an army of 21,000 troops, while Beaumont, having crossed the
ridge of Schnartz with a force 10,000 strong, threatened Innsbruck from the
north. On July 30th Innsbruck submitted. A series of desperate contests fol
lowed along the line of the Brenner, mostly with doubtful success, but in one the
marshal was defeated, when twenty-five pieces of artillery and a quantity of am
munition fell into the hands of the Tyrolese. Again, on August 12th, Marshal
Lefebvre, with an army of 25,000 Bavarian and French soldiers, 2,000 of whom
were cavalry, was totally beaten by the Tyrolese army, consisting of 18,000 armed
peasants. The battle, which was fought near Innsbruck, is said to have lasted
from six in the morning until midnight. For a third time the Tyrol was free.
After this victory, entirely achieved by the peasantry themselves, Hofer be
came the absolute ruler of the country ; coins were struck with his effigy, and
proclamations issued in his name. His power, however, scarcely lasted two
months, and became the cause of his ruin ultimately. Three veteran armies,
comprising a force of nearly 50,000 French and Bavarian troops, were despatched
in October to subdue the exhausted province ; and, unable to make head against
them, Hofer was obliged to take refuge in the mountains. Soon after, a price
having been set on his head, a pretended friend (a priest naraed Donay) was in
duced to betray him, January 20, 18 10. After his arrest he was conveyed to
Mantua, and the intelligence having been communicated by telegraph to the
French emperor, an order was instantly returned that he raust be tried. This
order was a sentence ; and after a court-martial, at which, however, the majority
were averse to a sentence of death, Hofer was condemned to be shot. His exe
cution took place on February 20, 18 10, his whole railitary career having occu
pied less than forty weeks. The Emperor Francis conferred a handsome pension
upon the widow and faraily of Hofer,- and created Hofer's son a noble. The
Austrian governraent also raised a rag.rble statue of heroic size in the cathedral
of Innsbruck, where the body of the patriot was interred ; while his own coun
trymen have commemorated his efforts by raising a small pyramid to mark the
spot where he was taken.

OEFREGGER P NX T

ANDREAS HOFER LED TO EXECUTION.

QUEEN LOUISE OF PRUSSIA

249

QUEEN LOUISE OF PRUSSIA
Bv Mrs. Francis G. F.'VIThfull

(1776-1810)

T"

^here is at Paretz, near Potsdam, a flower-
bordered walk leading frora a grotto over
looking the Havel to an iron gate, above which
is inscribed "May 20, 18 10" and the letter "L."
Within the grotto an iron table bears in golden
characters, " Remember the Absent."
These words were engraved by order of
Friedrich Wilhelm HI. of Prussia ; and the
"absent" he would have remembered — "the
star of his life, who had lighted hira so truly on
his darkened way " — was the wife who died of
a broken heart before reaching middle age.
Louise Augusta Wilhelmina, third daughter
of Duke Charles of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, was
born on March 10, 1776, in the city of Hanover.
Her mother died when she was six years old,
and henceforth she and her sister Frederica lived
with their grandmother, the Landgravine of Darmstadt, sometimes at the Burgfrei-
heit Palace, sometimes at a chateau in the Herrengarten, surrounded by forraal
gardens and orangeries. The girls were brought up simply, making their own
clothes, and going much among the poor. Novv and then they raade expeditions
to Strasburg or the Vosges Mountains ; and, when the Eraperor Leopold was
crowned at Frankfort, the Frau von Goethe housed them hospitably, and was
highly entertained by the glee with which they worked a quaint sculptured pump
in her courtyard. Two years later the advance of French troops compelled them
to seek refuge with their eldest sister, the reigning Duchess of Hildburghausen ;
and on their homeward way they visited the Prussian headquarters, that the
Landgravine might present them to the king. His sons were with him, and long
afterward the Crown Prince told a friend, " I felt When I saw her, 'tis she or
none on earth."
The wooing was short. On April 24, 1 793, he exchanged betrothal rings
with Louise, and then rejoined his regiment. Soon after, the Princesses of Meck
lenburg went over to the camp, Louise appearing " a heavenly vision " in the eyes
of Goethe, who saw her there.
In the December of that sarae year Berlin, gay with flags and ablaze with
colored lamps, welcoraed Duke Charles and his daughters ; and on Christraas Eve
the diaraond crown of the HohenzoUerns was placed on her fair head, and in her

250 WORKMEN AND HEROES
glistening silver robe she took part in the solemn torch procession round the
White Saloon.
Then her young husband took her home to their palace in the " Unter den
Linden." They were very happy. In the sunshine of his wife's presence the
prince's spirit, crushed in childhood by a harsh tutor, soon revived, while Louise,
though the darling of the court, was always most content when alone vvith him.
" Thank God ! you are my wife again," he exclaimed, one day, when she had
laid aside her jewels.
" Am I not always your wife? " she asked, laughingly.
" Alas ! no ; too often you can be only the crown princess."
Her father-in-law never wearied of showering kindnesses on his " Princess of
Princesses." On her eighteenth birthday he asked if she desired anything he
could give. "A handful of gold for the BerUn poor," vvas the prompt petition.
" And how large a handful would the birthday child like ?"
" As large as the heart of the kindest of kings."
The Castle of Charlottenberg, one of his many gifts to the young pair, prov
ing too splendid for their siraple tastes, he bought for them the Manor of Paretz,
about two miles from Potsdam. There Louise busied herself with household
affairs, while her husband gardened, strolled over his fields, or inspected his farm
stock. They played and sang together, or read Shakespeare and Goethe, while
to complete this home-life came two baby boys : Fritz, born in October, 1 795,
and Friedrich Wilhelm, in March, 1797. Someone once asked Louise if this
country existence was not rather dull. " Oh ! no," she exclaimed ; " I am quite
happy as the worthy lady of Paretz."
But in the late auturan of 1797 the king died, and the quiet freedom of Pa
retz had to be exchanged for the restraints of court life. Little as either of the
two desired regal pomp, they played their new parts well. Friedrich Wilhelm,
stately in bearing, and acknowledged as the handsomest man in his realm, looked
every inch a king ; and if his laconic speech and caustic criticisms sometiraes
gave offence, the winning gentleness of his beautiful wife raore than made
amends. Nobles and citizens, statesmen, soldiers, and savants were alike made
welcome ; and Louise knew instinctively how to make each show at his best.
With eager interest she discussed Pestalozzi's ideas with his disciples ; and when
Gotloeb Hiller, the poet-son of a rainer, was presented to her, she led hira aside,
and by the friendly ease with which she talked of things farailiar to hira, speedily
banished his shyness. Indeed, ready as she was to recognize high gifts and to
learn from aU able to teach, yet it was to the ob.scure and suffering that her tones
were raost soft and gracious. Even in trifles her thoughtfulness vvas unfailing.
When a count and a shoeraaker were announced at the same moment, she gave
audience finst to the shoeraaken " For time is more valuable to him."
At Dantzic she constantly wore an amber necklace, because it had been the
gift of the townsfolk. The voice which in childhood had pleaded for the pant
ing footman running beside her grandmother's coach, might still be heard inter
ceding, for when the royal carriage was overturned near ^Varsa\v, and the Oberk

QUEEN LOUISE VISITING THE POOR

HUGO H.VNDLER

QUEEN LOUISE OF PRUSSIA 251
of Messterin rated the servants, Louise interposed: "We are not hurt, and our
people have assuredly been more alarmed than we."
Sometiraes the midday meal was spread beneath a forest tree, and from far
and near the peasants flocked to get " even a glimpse of her lovely face." They
followed in crowds while she and the king clirabed the Schneekoppe on foot, but
loyal shouts died into awed silence when, at the suramit, Friedrich Wilhelm bared
his head, and the two standing side by side gazed at the glorious view. " That
was one of the most blessed moments of my life," Louise said afterward ; "we
seemed lifted above this earth and nearer our God."
They entered the mines at Woldenberg by a swift-flowing stream, and twenty
years afterward the steersman of their boat was fond of teUing how, in the dark
cavern — "The Foxes' Hole" — he saw her weU by the torchlight. " In all my
life I never saw such a face. She looked grand, as a queen should look, but
gentle as a child. She gave me with Iier own hands two Holland ducats. My
wife wears thera when she goes to church, for what she touched is holy."
Louise had never meddled in foreign politics. She had been, she designed
to be, only the " Landesmutter," and even when the murder of the Due d'En
ghien, seized on Prussian soil, aroused in Berlin a storm of indignation, in which
she fully shared, she yet sympathized in the mental distress which found vent in
her husband's often-repeated words, " I cannot decide for war."
At last he did decide. In October, 1805, Napoleon ordered Bernadotte to
march his array corps through Anspach. This contemptuous comment on
Prussia's ten-years' forbearance was too rauch for fhe king's pride. Armies were
raised in Franconia, Saxony, Westphaha, and while the excitement was at fever
point the czar came to Berlin. All his rare charm of manner was brought to
bear, and at midnight, in the presence of Louise, the two monarchs, standing
with clasped hands beside the tomb of the great Friedrich, solemnly pledged
themselves to a close alliance.
Alexander departed to lead his Russians to Moravia, and Friedrich Wilhelm
despatched a protest to the French camp ; but the envoy, Haugwitz, arriving on
the eve of Austerlitz, waited the issue of the battle, and then, withholding his
packet, proposed to the victor a fresh treaty with Prussia. There was wrath in
Berlin when his doings becarae known. The king at first disowned the disgrace
ful compact, but Austerlitz had just taught him vvhat Napoleon's enemies might
expect. French troops were already massing on his frontier, and in an evil hour
he broke faith with the czar ! To Louise, who neither feared foe nor deserted
friend, that was a bitter time — doubly sad, indeed, since most of the long winter
was spent by the dying bed of her youngest child. When she lost hira her own
strength broke down, and the doctors ordered her away to drink the Pyrraont
waters. In the late summer she was able to rejoin her husband, and he had
startling news to tell, for war with France was close at hand.
Since Haugwitz's fatal agreement Napoleon had heaped injuries on Prussia.
Novv, at least, king and people were of one mind. The young Prussian officers
sharpened their swords on the French ambassador's window-sills, patriotic songs

252 WORKMEN AND HEROES
were haUed with thunders of applause in street and theatre, and when the queen,
clad in the uniforra of her own Hussars, rode at their head through the city, she
was greeted with passionate loyalty.
Unhappily, Friedrich Wilhelm, hitherto too tardy, was now too precipitate.
He had been passive while France crushed Austria, and Austria, suspicious and
disabled, neither could nor vvould assist him. Russia, with better reason for dis
trust, responded generously to his appeal, but he did not wait for her promised
aid. For all his haste, Napoleon, with 180,000 men, was nearing the Thuringian
Forest before the Prussian troops left Berlin. They were very confident, those
Prussian troops, and the shouting multitudes who watched the well-trained artil
lery and cavalry defiling by, hardly dreamed of disaster ; yet it came alraost at
once. The Saxon corps, led by the king's cousin. Prince Louis, pushing on too
fast, was surprised and surrounded, and the gaUant young commander, the
queen's dear friend, the idol of the army, fell while rallying his men.
Louise, who had hurriedly joined the king from Weimar, could hardly be
persuaded to leave him, but on the evening of October 13th he confided her to
a cavalry escort, proraising speedy tidings of the coraing battle. As she threaded
the lonely passes of the Hartz Mountains she heard the distant cannonading, and
a broken sentence now and again fell from her lips : " We know that all things
work together for good." Late in the misty October twilight she drove into
Brunsvvick. At Brandenburg a courier brought the news her trembling heart
awaited. All was lost ! Twenty thousand Prussians lay on the fields of Auer-
stadt and Jena, and the French were already in Weimar. The king was alive,
but two horses had been killed under hira. Grief-stricken, travel-worn as she
was, Louise must not halt. Before she reached Berlin her children had been
sent to Schwedt-on-Oden She followed thither, almost terrifying thera by her
changed, despairing looks. As soon as ^he could check her weeping, she told
her boys all she knew about Prince Louis's death. " Do not only grieve for him.
Be ready for Prussia's sake to meet death as he met it," and then, in burning,
never-forgotten words, she bade thera one day free their country and break the
power of France.
There seeraed only a choice between utter destruction and utter submission,
and yet when Napoleon demanded the cession of alraost the whole kingdora,
Friedrich Wilhelm and his wife agreed that " only deterrained resistance can
save us." She was slowly rallying at Konigsberg from a fever caught in the
crowded city, when the cry was raised of the coming French. Propped by pil
lows, swathed in shawls, she drove through blinding sleet to Memel, the one
fortress still left to the king. At her first halting-place the wind whistled in
through a broken window, and the melting snow dripped from the roof on to her
bed. Her corapanions trerabled for her, but .she, calm and trustful, hailed as a
good omen the sunshine which welcomed thera within the walls of Memel.
A week later Benningsen and his Russians, who had been wading knee-deep
through Polish forests and fording swollen streams, always with 90,000 French
men in hot pursuit, turned to bay amid the frozen lakes and drifted snows of

QUEEN LOUISE OF PRUSSIA 253
Eylau. Next day those snows for raUes around were red with blood. It vvas
hard to tell with whom the costly victory lay, but Napoleon despatched Bertrand
to the Russian outposts to propose an arraistice, and Benningsen sent him on to
Memel, reminding the Prussian king that it could not be their interest to grant
what it was Napoleon's interest to ask. The terms were, indeed, far easier than
those offered after June ; but Friedrich Wilhelm, true to the ally who had held
the field almost single-handed through that terrible winter, would make no sep
arate agreeraent, nor did Louise receive raore favorably a message to herself,
conveying Napoleon's wish to pay his court to her in her own capital.
Though the piercing Baltic winds tried her strength greatly, she employed
herself whenever able in reading and visiting the over-full hospitals. To a dear
friend she said, " I can never be perfectly raiserable while faith in God is open to
me." " Only by patient perseverance," so she wrote to her father, " can we suc
ceed. Sooner or later I know wa shall do so."
It was not to be yet. On June 14, 1807, Napoleon annihilated the Russians
at Friedland, and four days later Dantzic fell. Her tone grew sadder. "We
are not yet bereft of peace. My great sorrow is being unable to hope."
As the czar Could resist no longer and Napoleon desired peace, they met at
Tilsit, and there, on a covered raft moored midway in the Niemen, arranged the
outlines of a treaty. The next day Friedrich Wilhelm, yielding to stern neces
sity, accepted terras "to the last degree hard and overwhelming." The czar,
believing that Louise might rriove even Napoleon to clemency, her husband
begged her to join him at Tilsit. On reading this summons she burst into tears,
declaring this the hardest task ever given her to do. " With my broken wing
how can I succeed ? " she pathetically asked.
Napoleon paid his respects soon after her arrival, and they met at the stair
head. Louise, for Prussia's sake, forced herself to utter courteous regrets that he
should have to mount so steep a staircase. He answered blandly that no diffi
culties vvere feared when striving for a reward beyond. Then, touching her
gauze robe, asked, " Is it crepe ? "
" Shall we speak of such trifles at such a time?" was her only reply.
He was silent ; then demanded, " How could you raake war on rae ?"
She told him that they had overrated their strength.
"And relying on the great Friedrich's fame you deceived yourselves."
Louise's clear eyes met his steadily. " Sire, resting on the great Friedrich's
fame, we might naturally deceive ourselves, if, indeed, vve wholly did so."
Then she told him that she had come to entreat him to be generous to Prus
sia. He answered respectful^, but made no promise. Again, with exceeding
earnestness, she implored at least for Magdeburg. Just then Friedrich Wilhelm
entered, and Napoleon abruptly took leave.
" Sire," said Talleyrand warningly to him, when they were alone, " shall pos
terity say that you threw away your great conquest for the sake of a lovely
woman ?"
Louise meanwhile dwelt again and again on Napoleon's words, " You ask a

254 WORKMEN AND HEROES
great deal, but I will think about it." Yet her heart was heavy, and when ar
rayed for the evening banquet in the splendid attire so long unworn, she likened
herself sadly to the old German victims decked for sacrifice. Napoleon said of
her afterward, " I knew I should see a beautiful and dignified queen ; I found
the most interesting woman and admirable queen I had ever known.'*
The treaty of Tilsit restored to Friedrich Wilhelm a fragraent of his king
dom, but even this was to be held by the French till after the payment of a huge
indemnity. Napoleon's threat that he would make the Prussian nobles beg their
bread had hardly been a vain one, for the unhappy Prussians had to feed, lodge,
and clothe every French soldier quartered in their land. Dark as vvas the out
look, Louise was upheld by loving pride in her husband. " After Eylau he
might have deserted a faithful ally. This he vvould not do. I believe his con
duct will yet bring good fortune to Prussia."
To help forward that good fortune they sold most of the crown lands and the
queen's jewels, and had the gold plate melted down. Araid their heavy anxieties
and pains they were not wholly unhappy, these two, who loved each other so en
tirely. "My Louise," the king said to her one day, " you have grown yet dearer
to me in this time of trouble, for I raore fully know the treasure I possess."
She, too, could write of him, " The king is kinder to me than ever, a great
joy and reward after a union of fourteen years." Still those about her told of
sleepless nights when prayer was her only relief. Her eyes had lost their bright
ness, her cheeks were pale, her step languid. By the Christmas of 1808 the last
French soldier had quitted Prussian soil ; but it was not deemed safe for the
royal family to return at once to Berlin, and they spent the sumraer at Hufen,
near Konigsberg. Parents and children were constantly together, and the
raother taught herself to believe that the sharp trials of those years would tell for
good on her boys and girls. "If they had been reared in luxury and prosperity
they might think that so it raust always be."
It was not till the end of 1809 that the exiles turned their faces homeward.
They travelled slowly, for the queen was still feeble. Everywhere a glad wel
come greeted them ; and on December 23d, the day on which, sixteen vears be
fore, she had entered the capital a girl-bride, Louise drove through its familiar
streets in a carriage presented to her by the rejoicing citizens. Her father was
waiting at the palace gate. He helped her to alight and led her in. Three vears
had gone by since she last crossed the threshold of her home, and what years
they had been ! Nor was the return all joy, for she knew and dreaded the
changes she would find there. Napoleon and his generals had not departed
erapty handed. They had stripped the rooras of paintings and statues, of manu
scripts and antiquities.
As the doors closed a great shout arose from the vast crowd before the pal
ace. Presently she appeared in the balcony, and all saw the traces of long an
guish in the lovely face, now bright with grateful srailes.
After a soleran service in the Dom, the king and queen drove through the
illuminated city to the o])era-house. " The queen sat beside her husband "—so

QUEEN LOUISE OF PRUSSIA 255
wrote Fouqu^ afterward — " and as she talked she often raised her eyes to hira
with a very touching expression. . . . Our beloved queen has thanked us
with tears. Bonaparte has dimmed those heavenly eyes . . . and we must
do all we can to make them sparkle again."
The bare walls, the empty cabinets of the palace, accorded with the alraost
ascetic habits now maintained there. Self-denial was raade easy by one belief,
that Prussia would arise frora her great suffering stronger than before. The king
and queen vvere not left to work alone toward that high end. Able generals re
placed those who, through treachery or faint-heartedness, had surrendered the
fortresses. Stein, now chief minister, curtailed the rights of the nobles, and
gave the serfs an interest in guarding the soil they tilled ; while Scharnhorst, by
an ingenious evasion of Napoleon's edict limiting the Prussian array, contrived
to have 200,000 men rapidly drilled and trained. The universities founded at
Berlin and Breslau becarae the headquarters of secret societies for the deliverance
of the Fatherland. Princes and professors, merchants ruined by the Berlin de
crees, and peasants ground down by French exactions, joined the Jugendbund, and
implicity obeyed the "orders of its unseen heads. Through town and country
spread that vast brotherhood, fired by the songs of Tieck and Arnim to live or
die for Prussia.
And Louise watched thankfully the dawning promise of better days, "though,
alas ! we may die before they corae."
Perhaps that sad presentiment haunted her husband too. If she jested with
her children he would say wistfully, " The queen is quite herself to-day. What a
blessing it will be if her mind recovers its joyous tone ! "
That spring Louise was attacked by spasms of the heart. They did not last
long, and when the court moved to Potsdam she seemed to regain strength, and
showed much interest in discussing with Bishop Eylert how best to train her boys
so that they raight serve their country. Though very weak, she accorapanied her
family to Hohengieritz, the king perforce returning to Berlin. The loving eyes
that watched her saw signs of araendraent, but early on Monday, July i6th, the
spasms recurred. For hours no remedies availed. She could only gasp for
"Air! air!" and when the sharp pain hadjjassed lay exhausted, now murmur
ing a few words of some hymn learnt as a child, faintly thanking God for each sol
ace sent her, or entreating her grandmother to rest. No complaint passed her
lips ; she was only "very, very weary."
They told her that couriers had been despatched for the king, and she asked
anxiously, " Will he soon come ? " Before dawn he came, bringing the two elder
boys. For those who tried to cheer him he had only one mournful reply : " If
she were not mine she might recoven" A gleam of joy lighted her pale face
when he came to her bedside, but perceiving his emotion she asked, " Ara I then
so very ill ? " Unable to reply, he hurriedly left the roora, and she said to those
' standing by, " His embrace was so wild, so fervent, that it seemed as though he
would take leave of me. TeU him not to do that, or I shall die at once."
He returned, bringing in the children.

256

WORKMEN AND HEROES

" My Fritz ! my Wilhelm ! " She had only time for one long gaze, and then
the agonizing pain came again. One of the doctors tried to raise her, but she
sank back. " Only death can help rae ; " and as all watched in breathless silence,
she leaned her head against the shoulder of a faithful attendant, murmured, " Lord
Jesus, shorten it ! " and with one deep-drawn breath passed away.

JAMES WATT
By John Times, F.S.A.
(1736-1819)

JAW n

AMES Watt was born at Gree-
ock, January 19, 1736. He
was the fourth child in a family
which, for a hundred years, had
more or less professed mathemat
ics and navigation. His consti
tution was delicate, and his men
tal powers were precocious. He
was distinguished from an early
age by his candor and truthful
ness ; and his father, to ascertain
the cause of any of his boyish
quarrels, used to say, " Let James
speak ; from hira I always hear
the truth." Jaraes also showed
his constructive tastes equally
early, experimenting on his play
things with a set of small carpen
ter's tools, vvhich his father had
given him. At six he was sriU at horae. " Mn Watt," said a friend to the
father, "you ought to send that boy to school, and not let hira trifle away his
time at home." " Look what he is doing before you condemn him," was the
reply. The visitor then observed the child had drawn mathematical lines and
figures on the hearth, and was engaged in a profess of calculation. On putting
questions to him, he was astonished at his quickness and siraplicity. " Forgive
me," said he, " this child's education has not been neglected ; this is no common
child." Watt's cousin, Mrs. Marian Campbell, describes his invenrive capacity as a"
story-teller, and details an incident of his occupying himself with the steam of a
tea-kettle, and by means of a cup and a spoon making an early experiment in the

03
O

tf!zQ
oo

o(J

Q•t-

JAMES WATT 257
condensation of steam. To this incident she probably attached more iraportance
than was its due, from reverting to it when illustrated by her after-recollections.
Out of this story, reliable or not in the sense ascribed to it, M. Arago obtained
an oratorical point for an doge, which he delivered to the French Institute.
Watt may or may not have been occupied as a boy with the study of the con
densation of steam while he vvas playing with the kettle. The story suggests a
possibility, nothing more ; though it has been raade the foundation of a grave
announcement, the subject of a pretty picture, and will ever reraain a basis for
suggestive speculation.
Watt vvas sent to a commercial school, where he was provided with a fair out
fit of Latin and with some elements of Greek ; but mathematics he studied with
greater zest, and with proportionate success. By the time he was fifteen, he had
read twice, with grave attention, Gravesande's " Elements of Natural Philoso
phy ; " and " vvhile under his father's roof he went on with various chemical ex
periraents, repeating them again and again, until satisfied of their accuracy from
his own observations." He even made hiraself a sraall electrical machine, about
1750-53 ; no mean performance at that date, since, according to Priestley's "His
tory of Electricity," the Leyden phial itself was not invented until the years 1 745
-46. His pastime lay chiefly in his father's marine store, among the sails and ropes,
the blocks and tackle ; or by the old gray gateway of the Mansion House on the
hill above Greenock, where he would loiter away hours by day, and at night lie
down on his back and watch the stars through the trees.
At this early age Watt suffered from continual and violent headaches, which
often affected his nervous system for raany days, even weeks ; and he was sira
ilarly afflicted throughout his long life. He seldora rose early, but accoraplished
more in a few hours' study than ordinary minds do in many days. He was never
in a hurry, and always had leisure to give to his friends, to poetry, romance, and
the publications of the day ; he read indiscriminately almost every new book he
could procure. He assisted his father in his business, and soon learned to con
struct with his own hands several of the articles required in the way of his par
ent's trade ; and by means of a small forge, set up for his own use, he repaired
and made various kinds of instruments, and converted, by the way, a large silver
coin into a punch-ladle, as a trophy of his early skill as a rnetal-smith. From this
aptitude for ingenious handiwork, and in accordance with his own deliberate
choice, it was decided that he should proceed to qualify hiraself for following the
trade of a mathematical instrument maken He accordingly vvent to Glasgow, in
June, 1754, and from there, after a year's stay, he proceeded for better instruction
to London. On Watt's arrival in the raetropolis, he sought a situation, but in vain, and he
was beginning to despond, when he obtained work with one John Morgan,, an
instrument-maker, in Finch Lane, Cornhill. Here he gradually became proficient
in making quadrants, parallel rulers, compasses, theodolites, etc., until, at the end
of a year's practice, he could make " a brass sector with a French joint, which is
17

258 WORKMEN AND HEROES
reckoned as nice a piece of framing work as is in the trade." During this interval
he contrived to live upon eight shUlings a week, exclusive of his lodging. His
fear of the press-gang and his bodily ailments, however, led to his quitting Lon
don in August, 1756, and returning to Scotland, after investing twenty guineas
in additional tools.
At Glasgow, through the intervention of Dr. Dick, he was first employed in
cleaning and repairing some of the instruments belonging to the college ; and,
after some difficulty, he received permission to open a shop within the precincts
as " matheraatical instrument maker to the University." Here Watt prospered,
pursuing alike his course of manual labor and of raental study, and especially ex
tending his acquaintance vvith physics ; endeavoring, as he said, " to find out the
weak side of nature, and to vanquish her." About this tirae he contrived an in
genious machine for drawing in perspective ; and from fifty to eighty of these
instruments, manufactured by him, were sent to different parts of the world. He
had now procured the friendship of Dn Black and another University worthy,
John Robison, who, in stating the circumstances of his first introduction to
Watt, says : " I saw a workman, and expected no raore ; but was surprised to
find a philosopher as young as rayself, and always ready to instruct me."
It was some time in 1 764 that the professor of natural philosophy in the
University desired Watt to repair a pretty model of Newcomen's steam-engine.
Like everything which came into Watt's hands, it soon became an object of
most serious study.
The interesting little model, as altered by the hand of Watt, was long placed
beside the noble statue of the engineer in the Hunterian Museum at Glasgow.
Watt himself, when he had got the bearings of his invention, could think of
nothing else but his machine, and addressed himself to Dn Roebuck, of the
Carron Iron-works, with the view of its practical introduction to the world. A
partnership ensued, but the connection did not prove satisfactory. Watt went
on with his experiments, and in September, 1766, wrote to a friend : " I think I
have laid up a stock of experience that will soon pay me for the trouble it has
cost rae." Yet it was between eight and nine years before that invaluable ex
perience was made available, so as either to benefit the public or repay the in
ventor ; and a rauch longer term elapsed before it was possible for that repay
ment to be reckoned in the form of substantial profit.
Watt now began to practise as a land-surveyor and civil engineen His first
engineering work was a survey for a canal to unite the Forth and Clyde, in fur
therance of which he had to appear before the House of Commons. His con
sequent journey to London was still raore iraportant, for then it was that he
saw for the first tirae the great manufactory which Boulton had established at
Soho, and of which he was afterward himself to be the guiding intelligence. In
the meantime, among his other performances, he invented a micrometer for
measuring distances ; and, what is still more remarkable, he entertained the idea
of moving canal-boats by the steam-engine through the instrumentality of a
spiral oar, which as nearly as possible coincides .with the screw-propeller of our day.

JAMES WATT 259
Watt's negotiations for partnership with Boulton were long and tedious. Dn
Roebuck's creditors concurred because, curiously enough, none of them valued
Watfs eitgine at a farthing. Watt himself now began to despair, and his health
failed ; yet in 1774, when he had removed to Birminghara, he wrote to his father :
" The fire-engine I have invented is now going, and answers rauch better than any
other that has yet been made ; and I expect that the invenrion will be very bene
ficial to me."
A long series of experimental trials was, nevertheless, requisite before the en
gine could be brought to such perfection as to render it generally available to the
public, and therefore profitable to its manufacturers. In January, 1775, six years
of the patent had elapsed, and there seemed sorae probability of the remaining
eight running out as fruitlessly. An application which was made for the exten
sion of its term was unexpectedly opposed by the eloquence of Burke ; but the
orator and his associates failed, and the extension was accorded by Act of Par
liament. The first practical employment of Watt's engines to any considerable extent
was in the mining districts of CornwaU, where he himself was, in consequence,
compelled to spend much of his time subsequent to 1775. Here he had to con
tend not only with natural obstacles in the dark abysses of deeply flooded mines,
but with a rude and obstinate class of men as deeply flooded by inveterate preju
dices. The result in the way of profit Was not, however, satisfactory, notwith
standing the service to the mining interest was enormous. " It appears," says
Watt, in 1780, " by our books, that Cornwall has hitherto eat up all the profits
we have drawn from it, and all we have' got by other places, and a good sura of
our own raoney to the bargain."
At this stage Watt hiraself was raore fertile in mechanical inventions than in
any other portion of his busy life. Taking his patents in their chronological
order, the first (subsequent to that of 1 769) was " For a new method of copying
letters and other writings expeditiously," by means of copying presses. Of the
sarae date was his invention of a machine " for drying linen and muslin by steara."
On October 25, 1781, he took out his third patent (the second ofthe steam-
engine series), " for certain new methods of applying the vibrating or recipro
cating motion of steara or fire engines, to produce a continued rotative raotion
round an axis or centre, and thereby to give motion to the wheels of mills or
other machines." One of these methods was that coraraonly known as the sun-
and-planet wheels ; they vvere five in all. A favorite eraployraent of his in the'
workshops at Soho, in the later raonths of i 783 and earlier ones of 1 784, vv^as
to teach his steam-engine, now becorae nearly as docile as it was powerful, to
work a tilt-hammer for forging iron and raaking steel. " Three hundred blows
per minute — a thing never done before," filled him, as his biographer says, with
feelings of excusable pride. Another patent in the steam-engine series, taken
out in I 784, contained, besides other methods of converting a circular or angular
motion into a perpendicular or rectilineal motion, the well-known and much-ad
mired /^ra//^/ wzc/zb«, and the application of the steam-engine to give motion to

260 WORKMEN AND HEROES
wheel-carriages for carrying persons and goods. To ascertain the exact number
of strokes made by an engine during a given time, and thereby to check the
cheats of the Cornish miners, Watt also invented the "Counter," with its several
indexes. Among his leading improveraents, introduced at various periods, were
the throttle-valve, the application of the governor, the barometer or float, the
stcam-gauoc, and the indicaton The term during which he seems to have thus
combined the greatest maturity with the greatest activity of intellect, and the
portion of his life which they comprehended, was from his fortieth to his fiftieth
yean Yet it was a terra of increased suffering from his acute sick-headaches,
and remarkable for the infirraities over vvhich he triumphed ; notwithstanding,
he himself complained of his "stupidity and want of the inventive faculty."
Watt's cheraical studies in 1 783, and the calculations they involved frora ex
periraents made by foreign cheraists, induced him to make a proposal for a philo
sophical uniformity of weights and measures ; and he discussed this proposal
with Priestley and Magellan. While Watt was exaraining the constituent parts
of water, he. had opportunities of faraihar intercourse not only with Priestley, but
with Withering, Keir, Edgeworth, Galton, Darwin, and his own partner, Boul
ton — all men above the average for their common interest in scientific inquiries.
Dn Parr frequently attended their meetings, and they kept up a correspondence
with Sir William Herschel, Sir Joseph Banks, Dn Solander, and Afzelius. Mrs.
Schimmelpenninck, who was greatly given to physiognoraical studies, has left us
this picture of Watt at this period.
" Mr. Boulton was a man to rule society with dignity ; Mn Watt, to lead the
contemplative life of a deeply introverted and patiently observant philosophen
He was one of the most complete specimens of the melancholic temperament.
His head was generally bent forward, or leaning on his hand in meditation ; his
shoulders stooping, and his chest falling in ; his lirabs lank and unmuscular, and
his complexion sallow. His intellectual development was magnificent ; compar
ison and causality imraense, with large ideality and constructiveness, individual
ity, an enorraous concentrativeness and caution.
" He had a broad Scottish accent ; gentle, modest, and unassuraing manners ;
yet, when he entered a room, raen of letters, raen of science, nay, military men,
artists, ladies, even little children, thronged round him. Ladies would appeal to
him on the best means of devising grates, curing smoky chimneys, warming their
houses, and obtaining fast colors. I can speak frora experience of his teaching
me how to make a dulcimer and improve a Jew's harp."
In the year 1786, Watt and Boulton visited Paris, on the invitation ofthe
French Government, to superintend the erection of certain steam-engines, and
especially to suggest iraprovements in the great hydraulic machine of Marly,
which Watt himself designates a " venerable" vvork. In Paris \^'att made raany
acquaintances, including Lavoisier, Laplace, Fourcroy, and others scarcely less
eminent ; and vvhile here he discussed with BerthoUct a new method of bleaching
by chlorides, an invention of the latter which Watt subsequently introduced into
England.

JAMES WATT 261
Meanwhile Watt had vigilantly to defend his patents at home, which were
assailed by unworthy and surreptitious rivals as soon as it was proved that they
were pe'cuniarily valuable. Some of the competing engines, as Watt himself
described them, were simply asthmatic. " Hornblower's, at Radstock, was
obliged to stand stUl once every ten minutes to snore and snort." "Some were
like Evan's raill, which was a gentlemanly mill ; it would go when it had nothing
to do, but it refused to work." The legal proceedings, both in equity and at
coraraon law, which now became necessary, were nuraerous. One bill of costs,
from 1796 to 1800, amounted to between ^5,000 and /6,ooo ; and the raental
and bodily labor, the anxiety and vexation, which were superadded, involved a
fearful tax on the province of Watt's discoveries.
With the year 1800 carae the expiration of the privilege of the patent of
1769, as extended by the .statute of 1775 ; and also the dissolution of the original
copartnership of Messrs. Boulton and Watt, then of five-and-twenty years' dura
tion. The contract was renewed by their sons, the business having become so
profitable that Watt and his children were provided with a source of indepen
dent income ; and at the age of sixty-four the great inventor had personally real
ized some of the benefits he contemplated.
Henceforth Watt's ingenuity becarae excursive, discretionary, alraost capri
cious ; but in every phase and form it continued to be beneficent. In 1808 he
founded a prize in Glasgow College, as an acknowledgment of "the many favors
that learned body had conferred upon him." In 1816 he made a donation to the
town of Greenock, " to form the beginning of a scientific library " for the in
struction of its young men. Nor, araid such donations, were others wanting on
his part, such as true religion prescribes, to console the poor and relieve the
suffering. In 1 8 16, on a visit to Greenock, Watt made a voyage in a stearaboat to
Rothsay and back again. In the course of this experimental trip he pointed out
to the engineer of the boat the method of " backing" the engine. With a foot-
rule he demonstrated to him what he meant. Not succeeding, however, he at
last, under the irapulse of the ruling passion (and we must remember he was then
eighty), threw off his overcoat, and putting his hand to the engine hiraself,
showed the practical application of his lecture. Previously to this, the " back
stroke " of the steamboat engine was either unknown or not generally known.
The practice was to stop the engine entirely a considerable time before the ves
sel reached the point of raooring, in order to allow for the gradual and natural
diminution of her speed.
W^ith regard to the application of steam power to locomotion on land, it is re
markable enough that, when Watt's attention was first directed, by his friend
Robison, to the .steam-engine, "he (Robison) at that time drew out an idea of
applying the povver to the moving of wheel-carriages." " But the scheme," adds
Watt, "was not matured, and was soon abandoned on his going abroad."
In 1769, however, when he heard that a linen-draper, one Moore, had taken
out a patent for moving wheel-carriages by steam, he replied : " If linen-draper

262 WORKMEN AND HEROES
Moore does not use my engine to drive his chaises, he can't drive them by
steam." In the specificarion of his patent of 1784, he even described the princi
ples and construction of " steam-engines which are applied to give motion to
wheel-carriages for removing persons or goods, or other matters, from place to
place," and in 1786, Watt himself had a steam-carriage "of some size under
hand ; " but his raost developed plan was to move such carriages " on a hard
smooth plane," and there is no evidence to show that he ever anticipated the
union of the rail and wheel.
Araong Watt's mechanical recreations, soon after the date of the last of his
steam-engine patents, were four plans of making laraps, which he describes in a
letter to Argand ; and for a long time lamps were made at Soho upon his princi
ples, which gave a light surpassing, both in steadiness and brilliancy, anything
of the kind that had appeared. About a year after, in 1788, he made " a pretty
instrument for determining the specific gravities of liquids," having, he says to
Dn Black, improved on a hint he had taken.
Watt also turned his " idle thoughts " toward the construction of an arith
metical machine, but he does not appear ever to have prosecuted this design fur
ther than by mentally considering the manner in which he could make it perform
the processes of multiplication and division.
Early in the present century Watt devised, for the Glasgow water-works, to
bring pure spring-water across the Clyde, an articulated suction-pipe, with joints
formed on the principle of those in a lobster's tail, and so made capable of ac
commodating itself to all the actual and possible bendings at the bottom of the
river. This pipe was, moreover, executed at Soho from his plans, and was found
to succeed perfectly.
Watt describes, as his hobby, a machine to copy sculpture, suggested to him
by an impleraent he had seen and adraired in Paris in 1802, where it was used
for tracing and multiplying the dies of medals. He foresaw the possibility of
enlarging its powers so as to raake it capable of working even on wood and
marble, to do for solid masses and in hard materials what his copying machine
of 1782 had already done for drawings and writings impressed upon flat surfaces
of paper — to produce, in fact, a perfect fac-simile of the original raodel. He
worked at this machine most assiduously, and his " likeness lathe," as he termed
it, was set up in a garret, which, with all its raysterious contents, its tools, and
raodels included, have been carefuUy preserved as he left thera.
It is gratifying to find that the charra of Watt's presence was not dimmed
by age. " His friends," says Lord Jeffrey, speaking of a visit which he paid to
Scotland when upward of eighty, "in that part of the country never saw him-
more full of intellectual vigor and coUoquial animation, never more delightful or
more instructive." It was then also that Sir Walter Scott, meeting him " sur
rounded by a little band of northern literati," saw and heard what he felt he was
never to see or hear again — the alert, kind, benevolent old man, his talents and
fancy overflowing on every subject, with his attention alive to everyone's question,
his information at everyone's command." Campbell, the poet, who saw hira later,

DR. EDWARD JENNER

268

in the beginning of 1819 (he was then eighty-three), describes him as so full of
anecdote, that he spent one of the most amusing days- he had ever had with him.
Lord Brougham, later still, in the summer of the same year, found his instructive
conversation and his lively and even playful manner unchanged. But in the au
tumn of this year, on August 19th, he expired tranquilly at his house at Heath-
field. He was buried at Handsworth. A tribute to his memory was but tardily
rendered by the nation.
Jeffrey and Arago added raore elaborate tributes to Watt's genius ; and
Wordsworth has declared that he looked upon him, considering his magnitude
and universality, " as perhaps the most extraordinary man that this country has
ever produced." His noblest monument is, however, his own work.

DR. EDWARD JENNER
By John Times, F.S.A.
(1749-1823) FEW of the many thousand ills
which human flesh is heir
to, have spread such devastation
among the family of man as
sraall-pox. Its universality has
ranged from the untold tribes of
savages to the silken baron of
civilization ; and its ravages on
life and beauty have been shown
in many a sad tale of domestic
suffering. To stay the destroying
hand of such a scourge, which by
some has been identified with the
Plague of Athens, was reserved
for Edward Jenner, the discoverer
of vaccination.
The great fact can, however, be
traced half a century before Jenner's time. In the journal of John Byron,
F.R.S., under date June 3, 1725, it is recorded that : " At a meering of the Royal
Society, Sir Isaac Newton presiding, Dn Jurin read a case of small-pox, where a
girl who had been jnoculated and had been vaccinated, was tried and had thera
not again ; but another [aj boy, caught the sraall-pox from this girl, and had the
confluent kind and died."
This case occurred at Hanoven The inoculation of the girl seems to have
failed enrirely ; it vvas suspected that she had not taken the true small-pox ;

264 WORKMEN AND HEROES
doubts, however, vvere reraoved, as a boy, who daily saw the girl, fell iU and died,
" having had a very bad small-pox of the confluent sort." This is the first use of
the word vaccination, or, raore familiarly, cow-pox, which is an eruption arising
frora the insertion into the system of matter obtained from the eruption on the
teats and udders of cows, and especially in Gloucestershire ; it is also frequently
denominated vaccine matter, and the whole affair, inoculation and its conse
quences, is caUed vaccination, from the Latin vacca, a cow.
It is admitted that Jenner's raerit lay in the scientific application of his
knowledge of the fact that the chapped hands of milkers of cows sometimes
proved a preventive of small-pox, and from those of thera whora he endeavored
to inoculate resisting the infection. These results were probably known far be
yond Jenner's range, and long before his time ; for we have respectable testimony
of their having come within the observation of a Cheshire gentleman, who had
been inforraed of them shortly after settling on his estate in Prestbury parish, in
or about 1740. This does not in the least detract from Jenner's merit, but shows
that to his genius for observation, analogy, and experiment, we are indebted for
this application of a simple fact, only incidentally remarked by others, but by
Jenner rendered the stepping-stone to his great discovery — or, in other words, ex
tending its benefits from a single parish in Gloucestershire to the whole world.
We agree with a contemporary, that, "among all the names which ought to
be consecrated by the gratitude of mankind, that of Jenner stands pre-erainent.
It would be difficult, we are inclined to say impossible, to select from the cata
logue of benefactors to human nature an individual who has contributed so
largely to the preservation of life, and to the alleviation of suffering. Into what
ever comer of the world the blessing of printed knowledge has penetrated, there
also will the name of Jenner be familiar ; but the fruits of his discovery have ri
pened in barbarous soUs, where books have never been opened, and where the
savage does not pause to inquire from what source he has derived relief. No im
provement in the physical sciences can bear a parallel with that which ministers
in every part of the globe to the prevention of deformity, and, in a great propor
tion, to the exemption from actual destruction."
The ravages which the sraall-pox formerly comraitted are scarcely conceived
or recollected by the present generation. An instance of death occurring after
vaccination is now eagerly seized and comraented upon ; yet seventy years have
not elapsed since this disease might fairly be termed the scourge of mankind, and
an enemy more extensive and more insidious than even the plague. A family
blighted in its fairest hopes through this terrible visitation vvas an everv-dav spec
tacle : the imperial House of Austria lost eleven of its off.spring in fifty years.
This instance is raentioned because it is historical ; but in the obscure and unre
corded scenes of life this pest was often a still more merciless intruden
Edward Jenner was the third son of the Vicar of Berkeley, in Gloucestershire,
where he was born. May 17, 1749. Before he was nine years of age he showed a
growing taste for natural history, in forming a collection of the nests of the dor
mouse ; and when at school at Cirencester he vvas fond of searchina: for fossils,

DR. EDWARD JENNER 265
which abound in that neighborhood. He was articled to a surgeon at Sudbury,
near Bristol, and at the end of his apprenticeship came to London, and studied
under John Hunter, with whom he resided as a pupil for two years and formed a
lasting friendship with that great raan. In i ^-j-i, he returned to his native village,
and commenced pracrice as a surgeon and apothecary, with great success. Nev
ertheless, he abstracted from the fatigues of country practice sufficient time to
form a museum of specimens of comparative anatomy and natural history. He
was much liked, was a man of lively and simple huraor, and loved to tell his ob
servation of nature in homely verse ; and in 1 788 he communicated to the Royal
Society his curious paper on the cuckoo. At the sarae time he carried to Lon
don a drawing of the casual disease, as seen on the hands of the milkers, and
showed it to Sir Everard Home and to others. John Hunter had alluded fre
quently to the fact in his lectures ; Dn Adams had heard of the cow-pox both
from Hunter and Clive, and mentions it in his "Treatise on Poisons," published
in 1795, three years previous to Jenner's own publication. Still, no one had the
courage or the penetration to prosecute the inquiry except Jenner.
Jenner now resolved to confine his practice to medicine, and obtained, in i 792,
a degree of M.D. from the University of St. Andrew's.
We now arrive at the great event of Jenner's life. While pursuing his pro
fessional education in the house of his master at Sudbury, a young countrywoman
applied for advice ; and the subject of sraall-pox being casually mentioned, she
remarked she could not take the small-pox because she had had cow-pox ; and he
then learnt that it was a popular notion in that district, that milkers who had
been infected with a peculiar eruption which sometimes occurred on the udder
of the cow, were completely secure against the small-pox. The raedical gentle
men of the district told Jenner that the security which it gave was not perfect ;
and Sir George Baker, the physician, treated it as a popular error. But Jenner
thought otherwise ; and although John Hunter and other eminent surgeons dis
regarded the subject, Jenner pursued it. He found at Berkeley that some per
sons, to whom it was impossible to give small-pox by inoculation, had had cow-
pox ; but that others who had had cow-pox yet received small-pox. This led to
the doctor's discovery that the cow was subject to a certain eruption, which had
the power of guarding from sraall-pox ; and next, that it might be possible to
propagate the cow-pox, and with it security from the small-pox, first from the
cow to the human body, and thence from one person to anothen Here, then,
was an important discovery, that matter from the cow, intentionally inserted into
the body, gave a slighter ailment than when received otherwise, and yet had the
same effect of completely preventing small-pox. But of what advantage was it
for mankind that the cows of Gloucestershire possessed a matter thus singularly
powerful? How were persons living at a distance to derive benefit from this
great discovery ? Dn Jenner, having inoculated several persons frora a cow, took
the matter from the human vesicles thus produced, and inoculated others, and
others from them again ; thus making it pass in succession through many individ
uals, and all with the same good effect in preventing small-pox.

266 WORKMEN AND HEROES
An opportunity occurred of making a trial of the latter on May 14, 1796 (a
day stiii commemorated by the annual festival at Berlin), when a boy, aged eight
years, was vaccinated with matter from the hands of a milkraaid ; the experiment
succeeded, and he was inoculated for sraall-pox on July ist following with
out the least effect. Dr. Jenner then extended his experiraents, and in 1798
published his first memoir on the subject. He had originally intended to com
municate his results to the Royal Society, but was adraonished not to do so, lest
it should injure the character which he had previously acquired among scientific
persons by his paper on the natural history of the cuckoo. In the above work
Dr. Jenner announces the security against small-pox afforded by the true cow-
pox, and also traces the origin of that disease in the cow to a similar affection of
the heel of the horse.
The method, however, met with much opposition, until, in the foUowing year,
thirty-three leading physicians and forty eminent surgeons of London signed an
earnest expression of their confidence in the efficacy of the cow-pox. The royal
family of England exerted themselves to encourage Jenner; the Duke of Clar
ence, the Duke of York, the king, the Prince of Wales, and the queen bestowed
great attention upon Jenner. The incalculable utility of cow-pox was at last
evinced ; and observation and experience furnished evidence enough to satisfy
the Baillies and Heberdens, the Monros and Gregorys of Britain, as well as the
physicians of Europe, India, and America. The new practice now began to
supersede the old plan pursued by the Small-pox Hospital, which had been
founded for inoculation. The two systeras were each pursued until 1808, when
the hospital governors discontinued small-pox inoculation.
A committee of Parliament was now appointed to consider the claims of
Jenner upon the gratitude of his country. Itwas clearly proved that he had con
verted into scientific deraonstration a tradition of the peasantry. Two parliaraen
tary grants, of ^10,000 and ^20,000, were voted to him. In 1808 the National
Vaccine Establishment was formed by Government, and placed under his direc
tion. Honors were profusely showered upon hira by various foreign princes, as
well as by the principal learned bodies of Europe.
Dr. Jenner passed the remainder of his years principally at Berkeley and at
Cheltenham, continuing to the last his inquiries on the great object of his life.
He died at Berkeley, in February, 1823, at the green old age of seventv-four :
his remains lie in the chancel of the parish church of Berkeley. A marble statue
by Sicvier has been erected to his memory in the nave of Gloucester Cathedral ;
and another statue of him has been placed in a public building at Cheltenham.
Five medals have been struck in honor of Jenner: three by the German nation ;
one by the surgeons of the British navy ; and the fifth by the London Medical
Society. Dn Jenner was endowed with a rare quality of mind, which it may be both
interesting and beneficial to sketch. A singular originality of thought vvas his
leading characteristic. He appeared to have naturally inherited what in others
is the result of protracted study. He seemed to think from originality of per-

THE FIRST VACCINATION — DR. JENNER

BY
6B0RGES-GAST0N MELINGUE

iF^G-]']? ';.\stun met,;ngue

'tc!ira-"j"c -¦Oi

ROBERT FULTON

267

ception alone, and not from induction. He arrived by a glance at inferences
which would have occupied the laborious conclusions of raost raen. In human
and aniraal pathology, in comparative anatomy, and in geology, he perceived
facts and formed theories instantaneously, and with a spirit of inventive penetra
tion vvhich distanced the slower approaches of more learned men. But if his
powers of mind vvere singularly great, the qualities which accompanied them
were stUl more felicitous. He possessed the most singular amenity of disposi
tion with the highest feeUng, the rarest siraplicity united to the highest genius.
In the great distinction and the superior society to which his discovery intro
duced him, the native cast of his character was unchanged. Araong the great
raonarchs of Europe, vvho, when in Great Britain, solicited his acquaintance, he
was the unaltered Dn Jenner of his birthplace. In the other moral points of his
character, affection, friendship, beneficence, and liberality vvere pre-eminent. In
religion, his belief was equally remote from laxity and fanaticism ; and he ob
served to an intimate friend, not long before his death, that be wondered not
that the people vvere ungrateful to hira for his discovery, but he was surprised
that they were ungrateful to God for the benefits of which he was the hurable
means.

ROBERT FULTON*
By Oliver Optic
(1765-1815)

V"

'ERY few inventors hav^e achieved
success in giving to the world
new or improved methods of carrying
on the business of life without long
and hard study, repeated experiments
and failures, and trying struggles with
opposing elements. Many have la
bored through long years of poverty
and obscurity to dazzle their fellow-
beings in the end by the triuraph of
genius. The idea of an inventor has
alraost becorae coupled vvith that of
anxiety, patient or irapatient waiting,
trials, and hardships. They are usu-
allv enthusiasts in the special pur
suit to vvhich they devote theraselves,
and the coldness and incredulity of
those whose approval they seek to win, wear heavily upon them. The chilling
common-sense of men more practical than themselves overwhelms them.
" Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

¦»— ¦- -¦k'l?"'^*!*^

268 WORKMEN AND HEROES
If the wonderful improvements of the present and the past age could be
placed in comparison with the attempts, the struggles, to accomplish what has
novv been achieved, the list of failures would far outnumber that of successes.
Many of those who have rendered priceless blessings to their own and after gen
erations by the production of wonderful machines or methods from the fine fibre
of their brains, were plundered and buffeted, even in the midst of their grand
successes, to such a degree that it requires a lofty comprehension to determine
whether their lives were triumphs or defeats. Sometimes the failure of one gen
eration becomes the success of the next.
Born the same year that gave Robert Fulton to the world was Eli Whitney,
who really made " cotton king," so that the great staple of the South yielded
miUions upon miUions of dollars to the planters ; but he might have died a
. beggar, so far as his marvellous invention affected his fortunes. Before he had
fully completed his machine for separating the seeds from the cotton, which only
two persons had been permitted to see, his workshop was broken open, and it
was stolen. His idea was incorporated in other machines before he had obtained
his patent, though it was only his own that transmuted cotton into gold. False
reports, the repudiation of contracts for royalties fairly made, the refusal of
Congress, through Southern influence, to renew his patent, constant litigation to
protect his rights, harassed his life, and robbed him of the pecuniary results of
his success. Defeated, he gave up the battle, devoted his attention to the manu
facture of firearms, and finally made a fortune in this business. Fulton's experi
ence was not very different.
On the other hand, important discoveries in methods and mechanical appli
ances have been made by accident, as it were, and fortunes accrued from very
little labor or study ; but these are the exceptions rather than the rule.
It would be difficult to estimate the influence upon the prosperit}- of the
United States of steam-navigation. It came but a few years after the organiza
tion of the Federal Government, when the greater portion of the territorial extent
of the country was a wilderness, and preceded the general use of railroads bv a
quarter of a century. Transportation on the inland waters of the nation was
slow, difficult, and expensive, and the introduction of the steamboat upon its
great lakes and rivers, notably upon the latter, was a new era in its historv. On
the great streams of the West flatboats floated for weeks, laden with the produc
tions of the States, on their way to a market, where days or hours are sufficient
at the present tirae. Between the metropolis of the nation and the capital oi
New York, the sloops, which were the only means of communication by water,
required an average of four days to make the trip of about one hundred and fifty
miles, while to-day it is accomplishd in half a day or less.
Now all the navigable rivers of the country are alive with .stearaboatSf and the
growth and development of the States have been mainly indebted to the intro
duction of .steam navigation. On the great lakes, though more available for
transportation by means of sailing vessels, the same powerful agency has achieved
wonders, and all of them are now covered by lines of steamers, by vvhich, either

ROBERT FULTON 269
as tow-boats or independent vessels, a large proportion of the inland commerce
of the nation is carried on. On the ocean the result of the introduction of steam-
navigation is even more impressive, and nations separated by thousands of railes
of roUing billows now join hands, as it were, with hearts coraraercially united, if
not raore intimately, through the medium of peace-giving coramerce, of which
thousands of gigantic steamers are the angel-messengers. On the Atlantic a score
or more of thera leave the one side for the other every week, and at the present
time a merchant may breakfast in New York on Saturday, and dine in London
the next Saturday.
It is novv conceded, both in Europe and America, that the vv^orld is indebted
to Robert Fulton for the practical application of steam to the purposes of navi
gation. Whatever has been claimed for or by others in regard to the priority
of the invention or application ofthe mighty power of steam to the proptUsion
of vessels, Fulton was "the first to apply it with any degree of practical success,"
as an English work states it. As one who labored for years over the idea which
carae frora his own brain, though it also carae to others, who wellnigh sacrificed
his own life in its improvement, and who achieved the crowning glory of its
utility, he is certainly entitled to be regarded and honored as the Father of Steam-
Navigation. Robert Fulton was born in a small viUage near Lancaster, in the State of
Pennsylvania, in the year 1765. He vvas the son of a poor man of Scotch-Irish
descent, who died when his son was only three years old. He obtained only a
common-school education, which he afterward increased by his own efforts. He
early manifested a taste for, and considerable skill in, drawing and painting, and
he selected this art as his profession, though he was more inclined to mechanical
occupations, and spent his leisure hours in the shops of the workmen in his vicin
ity. He was somewhat precocious in his developraent, and at the age of seven
teen he established hiraself as a portrait painter. He could hardly have attained
to any high standard in art, though it appears that he had considerable success in
his occupation, for at the age of tvventy-one he had purchased a small farm in
the western part of the State, where he placed his mother, indicating that he had
a proper filial regard for the welfare of his remaining parent. It was evident
from this success that he had decided talent and that it attracted the attention
of others. He was advLsed to visit England and place himself under the tuition of Ben
jamin West, the eminent Araerican painter, vvho had achieved distinguished suc
cess in art. He followed this advice, vvas kindly received by the great artist,
and reraained as an inmate of his home for some years. In the palaces and man
sions of the British nobility vvere treasured up raany of the most noted pictures
of the day and of the past. In order to see, study, and copy these, Fulton pro
cured letters of introduction which gave him admission to these paintings. He
resided for some time in the stately mansions of the Duke of Bridgewater and
Earl Stanhope. Both of these peers vvere largely interested in making internal
improvements in England, especially in proraoting inland navigation by canals.

270 WORKMEN AND HEROES
The duke was the possessor of immense wealth, and he had invested largely
in companies connected with the canal system. Through hira Fulton became in
terested in the same subject, and his raechanical tastes and talent drew hira in
that direction. The result was that he abandoned his easel and became a civil
engineer, a profession hardly known by that name in the early part of this cen
tury. Earl Stanhope was also of a mechanical turn of mind, and had projected
some important enterprises. At that time he was engaged upon a scheme which
afterward filled up so much of the existence of Fulton — the application of steam
to navigation. The earl had devised a method of accomplishing the result, and had caused
a small craft to be built which was to be propelled by a series of floats, by some
compared to the paddles of a canoe, and by others to the feet of water-fowls.
He described his plan to Fulton, who did not regard it as practicable, and stated
plainly the reasons for his behef. The earl clung to his idea, highly as he appre
ciated the talents of the critic. The inventor resided at Birminghara about two
years, and was employed in a subordinate capacity at his newly adopted profession
for the greater portion of the time. In this city he made the acquaintance of
Watt, who had developed the steam-engine from a mere pumping-machine to
something near what it is at the present tirae.
Fulton's inventive genius was exercised during his residence at Birraingham,
and -he devised an irnproveraent of the machine for sawing marble, from which
he reaped both honor and profit. He produced a machine for spinning flax, and
for the manufacture of ropes, and also one for excavating canals or river bottoms,
for which purpose raany such are now in use. As an author he wrote a work on
canals, and published a treatise on the same subject in a London paper. He had
a plan for the use of inclined planes in changing the level of the water for boats
on canals, in place of locks, after the manner of the Chinese, claiming that greater
elevations could be overcorae in this manner ; but it was never adopted.
In 1797 Fulton went to Paris, where he resided seven years, as the terrors of
the French Revolution were passing away. At this period he had invented what
is now called a torpedo, largely used in modern warfare for the protection of
harbors. He devised a submarine boat to operate these destructive weapons,
which was not a success. He demonstrated what he claimed for the torpedo in
the destrucrion of a brig of two hundred tons ; but he failed to procure the adop
tion of this more modern engine of warfare by either France or England, and he
had the honor to be snubbed by Napoleon I. In 1806 he returned to New
York, where he labored for the recognition and introduction of the torpedo. He
was encouraged by Jefferson and Madison, and Congress appropriated money for
experiments ; but the naval officers reported against him, and nothing came of
his efforts. In Paris he had made the acquaintance of Chancellor Livingston, then the
American minister to France, who was interested in Fulton's work, and vvho
soon entered into business relations with him in connection with it. He was a
man of abundant fortune, while the inventor was comparatively poor ; occupied an

ROBERT FULTON 271
elevated social position, and was a person of great influence. He obtained a grant
of the monopoly of steam-navigation from the State of New York. Fulton took
out two patents for his invention ; but unfortunately they vvere not adequate to
his protection, for they covered only the application of the steam-engine to the
turning of a crank in producing the rotary motion of the paddle-wheels.
WhUe. in England Fulton had contracted with Watt for the building of such
an engine as he desired, without stating the purpose for which it was to be used.
This engine reached New York at about the same time as the inventon He
raade his plans for the construction of the boat, which vvas to be of different forra
and proportions frora ordinary vessels, and it was completed and fitted out with
its engine during the year following his return. Not long before this event, when
he found the sum of raoney Mn Livingston had provided to complete the steam
boat was nearly exhausted, Fulton attempted to seU an interest in his exclusive
grant in order to raise funds to supply the deficiency ; but so little faith existed
in the success of his enterprise that he could find no one vvho had the courage to
purchase it. But the vessel was finished, and a trial trip was raade in her, to
which gentleraen of science and general intelligence were invited, most of them,
like the rest of the world, sceptics and unbelievers. A few minutes served to
satisfy these raen that the steamboat was a success, and that the problem of steam-
navigation had been solved in its favor. It vvas the hour of Fulton's triumph.
The strange craft, to^ which the name of Clermont had been given, soon
made a trip to Albany, accomplishing the distance in thirty-two hours, or one-
third of the average time of the sloops, and making the return in thirty. Doubt
ers and cavillers were silenced, and regular trips were made till the ice closed the
river for the season. During the winter the Clermont was lengthened to one
hundred and forty feet, improved in raany respects, gaudily painted, and looked
upon as a "floating palace." Another stearaboat, called the Car of Neptune, was
built, and soon a contract for five more was placed. The practical triumph had
been achieved, and from that small beginning has come forth the mighty steam-
marine of the present tirae.
Fulton was married to Miss Harriet Livingston, a niece of the Chancellor,
and was the father of four children. His business affairs were in anything but a
prosperous condition. The State of New Jersey contested his monopoly, which
proved to have been unconstitutionally granted. Fitch, or his successors, who
had made some successes in the same line, endeavored to supplant him, and his
patents were worthless. He was embarrassed by constant litigation, and his last
years were full of trials and anxiety. He died February 24, 181 5, at the age of
fifty.

272

WORKMEN AND HEROES

WILLIAM WILBERFORCE

(1759-1833) X T riLLiAM Wilberforce, whose name a
VV heartfelt, enlightened, and unwea
ried philanthropy, directing talents of the
highest order, has enrolled among those
of the most illustrious benefactors of raan-
%¦ . , kind, was born August 24, 1759, i^^ Hull,
. , ' s England, where his ancestors had been
long and successfully engaged in trade.
By his father's death he was left an orphan
at an early age. He received the chief part
of his education at the grammar school
of Pockington, in Yorkshire, and at St.
John's College, Cambridge, of which he
became a fellow-commoner about 1776 or
1777. When just of age, and apparently
before taking his B.A. degree, he was re
turned for his native town at the general
election of 1 780. In 1 784 he was returned
again, but being also chosen member for
Yorkshire he elected to sit for that great -county, which he continued to repre
sent until the year 181 2, during six successive Parliaments. From 181 2 to 1825,
when he retired from Parliament, he was returned by Lord Calthorpe for the
borough of Bramben His politics vvere in general those of Mr. Pitt's party,
and his first prominent appearance was in 1783,' in opposition to Mr. Fox's India
Bill. In 1786 he introduced and carried through the Commons a bill for the
araendraent of the criminal code, which was roughly handled by the Lord Chan
cellor, Thurlow, and rejected in the House of Lords without a division.
At the time when Mr. Wilberforce was rising into raanhood, the inquiry into
the slave trade had engaged in a slight degree the attention of the public. To
the Quakers l)elongs the high honor of having taken the lead in denouncing that
unjust and unchristian traffic. At the beginning of the eighteenth centurv, dur
ing the life of Penn, the Quakers of Pennsylvania passed a censure upon it, and
from time to time the Society of Friends expressed their disapprobation of the
deportation of negroes, until, in 1761, they completed their good vvork by a reso
lution to disown all such as continued to be engaged in it. Occasionally the
question was brought before magistrates, whether a slave became entitled to his
liberty upon landing in England. In 1765 GranviUe Sharp came forward as the
protector of a negro, vvho, having been abandoned and cast upon the world in

WILLIAM WILBERFORCE 273
disease and misery by his owner, was healed and assisted through the charity of
Mr. Sharp's brother. Recovering his value with his health, he was claimed and
seized by his raaster, and would have been shipped to the colonies, as many Afri
cans were, but for the prompt and resolute interference of Mr. Sharp. In sev
eral sirailar cases the sarae gentleman came forward successfully ; but the general
question was not determined, or even argued, until 1772, when the celebrated
case of the negro Somerset was brought before the Court of King's Bench,
which adjudged, after a deliberate hearing, that in England the right of the mas
ter over the slave could not be maintained. The general question was afterward,
in 1778, decided still more absolutely by the Scotch Courts, in the case of Wed
derburn vs. Knight. In 1783 an event occurred well qualified to rouse the feel
ings of the nation, and call its attention to the atrocities of which the slave trade
was the cause and pretext. An action was brought by certain underwriters
against the owners of the ship Zong, on the ground that the captain had caused
132 weak, sickly slaves to be thrown overboard for the purpose of claiming their
value, for which the plaintiffs would not have been liable if the cargo had died a
natural death. The fact of the drowning was admitted, and defended on the plea
that want of water had rendered it necessary, though it appeared that the crew
had not been put upon short allowance. It now seems incredible that no crim
inal proceeding should have been instituted against the perpetrators of this whole
sale murder.
In 1785 the Vice-chancellor of Cambridge proposed as the subject for the
Bachelor's Prize Essay, the question. Is it allowable to enslave men without
their consent ? Thomas Clarkson, who had gained the prize in the preceding
year, again became a candidate. Conceiving that the thesis, though couched in
general terms, had an especial reference to the African slave trade, he went to
London to make inquiries on the subject. Investigation brought under his^ view
a mass of cruelties and abominations which engrossed his thoughts and shocked
his imagination. By night and day they haunted hira ; and he has described in
lively colors the intense pain vvhich this composition, undertaken solely in the
spirit of honorable rivalry, inflicted on him. He gained the prize, but found it
impossible to discard the subject from his thoughts. In the succeeding autumn,
after great struggles of mind, he resolved to give up his plan for entering
the Church, and devoted time, health, and substance (to use his own words) to
"seeing these calamities to an end." In sketching the progress of this great
measure, the name of Wilberforce alone will be presented to view ; and it is our
duty, therefore, in the first place, to raake honorable raention of him vvho first
roused Wilberforce in the cause, and whose athletic vigor and .indomitable per
severance surmounted danger, difficulties, fatigues, and di-scouragements which
few raen could have endured, in the first great object of collecting evidenceof the
cruelties habitually perpetrated in the slave trade.
In the first stage of his proceedings, Mr. Clarkson, in the course of his ap
plication to members of Parliaraent, called on Mr. Wilberforce, who stated that
" the subject had often employed his thoughts and was near his heart." He in-
18

274 WORKMEN AND HEROES
quired into the authorities for the statements laid before him, and became not
only convinced of, but impressed with, the pararaount duty of abolishing so hate
ful a traffic. Occasional meetings of those who were alike interested were held
at his house ; and in May, 1787, a committee was formed, of vvhich Wilberforce
became the Parliamentary leaden Early in i 788 he gave notice of his intention
to bring the subject before the House ; but, owing to his severe indisposition,
that task vvas ultimately undertaken by Mr. Pitt, who moved and carried a reso
lution, pledging the House in the ensuing session to enter on the consideration
ofthe subject. Accordingly, May 12, 1789, Mr. Wilberforce moved a series of
resolutions, founded on a report of the Privy Council, exposing the iniquity and
cruelty of the traffic in slaves, the mortality which it occasioned among white as
well as black men, and the neglect of health and morals by which the natural in
crease of the race in the West India islands was checked ; and concluding with
a declaration that if the causes by which that increase was checked vvere removed,
no considerable inconvenience would result from discontinuing the importation
of African slaves. Burke, Pitt, and Fox supported the resolutions. Mr. Wilber-
foree's speech was distinguished by eloquence and earnestness, and by its unan
swerable appeals to the first principles of justice and religion. The consideration
of the subject was ultimately adjourned to the following session. In that, and in
two subsequent .sessions, the motions were renewed ; and the effect of pressing
such a subject upon the attention of the country was to open the eyes of many
who vvould willingly have kept them closed, yet could not deny the existence of
the evils so forced on their view. In 1 792 Mr. Wilberforce's motion for the
abolition of the slave trade was met by a proposal to insert in it the word " grad
ually ; " and, in pursuance of the same policy, Mn Dundas introduced a bill to
provide for its discontinuance in 1800. The date was altered to 1796, and in
that state the bill passed the Coramons, but was stopped in the Upper House by
a proposal to hear evidence upon it. Mr. Wilberforce annually renewed his ef
forts, and brought every new argument to bear upon the question which new
discoveries, or the events of the times, produced. In 1 799 the friends of the
measure resolved on letting it repose for awhile, and for five years Mr. Wilber
force contented hiraself with moving for certain papers ; but he took an oppor
tunity of assuring the House that he had not grown cool in the cause, and that
he would renew the discussion in a future session. On May 30, 1804, he once
more moved for leave to bring in his bill for the abolition of the slave trade, in
a speech of great eloquence and effect. He took the opportunity of making a
powerful appeal to the Irish members, before whora, in consequence of the
Union, this question was novv for the first time brought, and the greater part of
whora supported it. The decision showed a majority of i 24 to 49 in his favor ;
and the bill was carried through the Coraraons, but was again postponed in the
House of Lords. In 1805 he renewed his raotion ; but on this occasion it vvas
lost in the Commons by over-security among the friends of the measure. But
when Mn Fox and Lord Granville took office in 1806, the abolition vvas
brought forward by the ministers, most of whom supported it, though it was not

WILLIAM WILBERFORCE 275
made a governraent question in consequence of several members of the cabinet
opposing it. The attorney-general (Sir A. Pigott) brought in a bill, which was
passed into a law, prohibiting the slave trade in the conquered colonies, and ex
cluding British subjects from engaging in the foreign slave trade ; and Mn Fox,
at Mr. Wilberforce's special request, introduced a resolution pledging the House
to take the earliest measures for effectually abolishing the vvhole slave trade.
This resolution was carried by a raajority of 114 to 15 ; and January 2, 1807,
Lord Granville brought forward, in the House of Lords, a bill for the abolition
of the slave trade, which passed safely through both Houses of Parliament. As,
however, the king was believed to be unfriendly to the measure, some alarm was
felt by its friends, lest its fate might still be affected by the dismissal of the min
isters, which had been determined upon. Those fears were groundless ; for
though they received orders to deliver up the seals of their offices on March 25th,
the royal assent was given by commission by the Lord Chancellor Erskine on the
same day ; and thus the last act of the administration was to conclude a contest,
maintained b}" prejudice and interest during twenty years, for the .support of
what Mr. Pitt denorainated " the greatest practical evil that ever afflicted the
human race."
Among other testimonies to Mr. Wilberforce's raerits, we are not inclined to
omit that of Sir James Mackintosh, who in his journal, May 23, 1808, speaks
thus of Wilberforce on the " Abolition." This refers to a pamphlet on the slave
trade which Mr. Wilberforce had published in 1806: "Almost as much en
chanted by Mr. Wilberforce's book as by his conduct. He is the very model of
a reformer. Ardent without turbulence, mild without tiraidity or coolness ; neither
yielding to difficulties nor disturbed or exasperated by them ; patient and meek
yet intrepid ; persisting for twenty years through good report and evil report ;
just and charitable even to his most malignant enemies ; unwearied in every ex
periment to disarm the prejudices of his more rational and disinterested oppo
nents, and supporting the zeal, without dangerously exciting the passions of his
adherents." The rest of Mr. Wilberforce's parliamentary conduct was consistent with his
behavior on this question. In debates chiefly political he rarely took a forward
part ; but where religion and morals were directly concerned, points on vvhich fevv
cared to interfere, and where a leader was wanted, he never shrunk frora the ad
vocacy of his opinions. He vvas a supporter of Catholic emancipation and par
liamentary reform ; he conderaned the encourageraent of gambling, in the shape
of lotteries established by government ; he insisted on the cruelty of employing
boys of tender age as chimney-sweepers ; he attempted to procure a legislative
enactment against duelling, after the hostile meeting between Pitt and Tierney ;
and on the renewal of the East India Company's charter in 1816, he gave his
zealous support to the propagation of Christianity in Hindostan, in opposition to
those who, as has been more recently done in the West Indies, represented the
employment of missionaries to be inconsistent vvith the preservation of the
British empire. It is encouraging to observe that, with the exception of the one

276 WORKMEN AND HEROES
levelled against duelling, all these measures, however violently opposed and un
fairly censured, have been carried in a more or less perfect form.
As an author, Mn Wilberforce's claim to notice is chiefly derived from his
treatise entitled " A Practical View of the Prevailing Religious System of Pro
fessing Christians in the Higher and Middle Classes in this Country, Contrasted
with Real Christianity." The object of it was to show that the standard of life
generally adopted by those classes not only fell short of, but was inconsistent
with, the doctrines of the gospel. It has justly been applauded as a work of no
coraraon courage, not frora the asperity of its censures, for it breathes through
out a spirit of gentleness and love, but on the joint consideration of the unpopu
larity of the subject and the writer's position. The Bishop of Calcutta, in his
introductory essay, justly observes that "the author, in attempting it, risked
everything dear to a public man and a politician as such, consideration, weight,
ambition, reputation." And Scott, the divine, one of the most fearless and
ardent of men, viewed the matter in the same light ; for he wrote : " Taken in
all its probable effects, I do sincerely think such a stand for vital. Christianity has
not been made in ray raeraory. He has come out beyond my expectations."
Of a work so generally known we shall not describe the tendency raore at large.
It is said to have gone through about twenty editions in Britain, since the publi
cation in 1797, and more in America; and to have been translated into most
European languages.
In the discharge of his parliamentary duties, Mr. Wilberforce was punctual
and active beyond his apparent strength ; and those who further recollect his
diligent attendance on a vast variety of public meetings and committees con
nected with reUgious and charitable purposes, will wonder how a frarae naturally
weak should so long have endured the wear of such exertion. In 1 788, when
his illness was a matter of deep concern to the Abolitionists, Dr. WaiTcn said
that he had not stamina to last a fortnight. No doubt his bodily powers were
greatly aided by the placid and happy frame of mind vvhich he habitually en
joyed ; but it is iraportant to relate his own opinion, as delivered by an ear-
witness, on the physical benefits which he derived frora a strict abstinence from
temporal affairs on Sundays : " I have often heard hira assert that he never
could have sustained the labor and stretch of raind required in his early political
life, if it had not been for the rest of his Sabbath ; and that he could narae sev
eral of his contemporaries in the vortex of political cares, whose minds had
actually given way under the stress of intellectual labor so as to brino- on a
premature death or the still more dreadful catastrophe of insanity and suicide,
who, humanly speaking, raight have been preserved in health, if they would but
conscientiously have observed the Sabbath."
In 1797 Mn Wilberforce raarried Miss Spooner, daughter of an eminent
banker at Birmingham. Four sons survived him. He died, after a gradual de-
chne, July 29, 1833, in Cadogan Place. He directed that his funeral should be
conducted without the smallest pomp ; but his orders were disregarded, in com
pliance with a meraorial addressed to his relatives by many of the most distin-

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY

277

guished men of all parties, and couched in the following terms : " We, the under
signed Members of both Houses of Parliament, being anxious, upon public
grounds, to show our respect for the memory of the late WiUiam Wilberforce,
and being also satisfied that public honors can never be more fitly bestovved than
upon such benefactors of mankind, earnestly request ,that he may be buried in
Westminster Abbey, and that we and others who may agree with us in these
sentimients may have permission to attend his funeral." The attendance of both
Houses was numerous. Mr. Wilberforce vvas interred within a few yards of his
great contemporaries, Pitt, Fox, and Canning.

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY
By John Times, F.S.A.
(l 778-1829) THE boyhood of Davy has been
sketched in some of the raost
fascinating pieces of biography ever
written : the annals of science do not
furnish us with any record that equals
the school-days and self-education of
the boy, Huraphry, in popular inter
est ; and, unlike many bright morn
ings, this commencement in a few
years led to a brilliant meridian, and,
,, by a succession of discoveries, accom
plished more in relation to change of
: theory and extension of science, than
in the most ardent and ambitious mo
ments of youth he could either hope
to effect or iraagine possible.
Huraphry Davy was born at Pen
zance, in 1778 ; vvas a healthy, strong, and active child, and could speak fluently
before hewas two years old ; copied engravings before he learned to write, and
could recite' part of the " Pilgrim's Progress " before he could vvell read it. At
the age of five years, he could gain a good account of the contents of a book
whUe turning over the leaves ; and he retained this remarkable faculty through life.
He excelled in telling stories to his playmates ; loved fishing, and collecting, and
painting birds and fishes ; he had his own little garden ; and recorded his impres
sions of romantic scenery in verse of no ordinary merit. To his self-education,
however, he owed almost everything. He studied with intensity mathematics.

278 WORKMEN AND HEROES
metaphysics, and physiology ; before he was nineteen he began to study chem
istry, and in four months proposed a new hypothesis on heat and light, to
which he won over the experienced Dn Beddoes. With his associate, Greg
ory Watt (son of the celebrated James Watt) he collected specimens of rocks
and minerals. He made considerable progress in medicine ; he experimented
zealously, especially on the effects of the gases in respiration ; at the ageof
tvventy-one he had breathed nitrous oxide, and nearly lost his life frora breath
ing carburetted hydrogen. Next year he commenced the galvanic experiments
which led to some of his greatest discoveries. In 1802 he began his briUiant
scientific career at the Royal Institution, where he reraained till 181 2; here he
constructed his great voltaic battery of 2,000 double plates of copper and zinc,
and commenced the mineralogical collection now in the Museum. His lect
ures vvere often attended by one thousand persons : his youth, his simplicity, his
natural eloquence, his chemical knowledge, his happy iUustrations and well-con
ducted experiments, and the auspicious state of science, insured Davy great and
instant success.
The enthusiastic admiration vvith which he was hailed can hardly be imagined
now. Not only men of the highest rank — men of science, men of letters, and
raen of trade — but women of fashion and blue-stockings, old and young, pressed
into the theatre of the Institution to cover hira vvith applause. His greatest
labors were his discovery of the decomposition of the fixed alkalies, and the re-
establishraent of the siraple nature of chlorine ; his other researches vvere the in
vestigation of astringent vegetables in connection with the art of tanning ; the
analysis of rocks and rainerals in connection vvith geology ; the comprehensive
subject of agricultural chemistry ; and galvanism and electro-chemical science.
He vv^as also an early, but unsuccessful, experimenter in the photographic art.
Of the lazy conservative spirit and ludicrous indolence in science, which at
this tirae attempted to hoodwink the public, a quaint instance is recorded of a
worthy professor of cheraistry at Aberdeen. He had allowed sorae years to pass
since Davy's brilliant discovery of potassiura and its congeneric metals, without a
word about them in his lectures. At length the learned doctor was concussed bv
his colleagues on the subject, and he condescended to notice it. " Both potash
and soda are novv said to be metallic oxides," said he ; " the oxides, in fact, of
two metals, called potassium and sodium by the discoverer of them, one Daw,
in London, a verra troublesome person in cheraistry."
Turn we, however, to the brightest event in our chemical philosopher's careen
Bv his unrivalled series of practical discoveries. Daw acquired such a reputation
for success araong his countrymen, that his aid was invoked on every great oc
casion. The properties of fire-damp, or carburetted hydrogen, in coal-mines had
already been ascertained by Dn Henry. When this gas is mingled in certain pro
portions with atmospheric air, it forms a mixture vvhich kindles upon the contact
of a lighted candle, and often explodes with tremendous violence, killing the men
and horses, and projecting much of the contents of the mine through the shafts
or apertures like an enormous piece of artillery. At this time, a detonarion of

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY 279
fire-damp occurred within a coal-mine in the north of England, so dreadful that it
destroyed more than a hundred miners. A committee of the proprietors besought
our chemist to provide a method of preparing for such tremendous visitations ;
and he did it. He tells us that he first turned his attention particularly to the
subject in 1815 ; but he raust have been prepared for it by the researches of his
early years. Still, there appeared little hope of finding an efficacious reraedy.
The resources of modern mechanical science had been fully applied in ventilation.
The coraparative lightness of fire-damp was well understood ; ev^ery precaution
vvas taken to preserve the communications open ; and the currents of air were
promoted or occasioned, not only by furnaces, but likewise by air-pumps and
steam apparatus. We may here raention that, for giving light to the coal-miner
or pitman, where the fire-damp was apprehended, the primitive contrivance was
a steel-mill, the light of which was produced by contact of a flint with the edge
of a wheel kept in rapid motion. A " safety-lamp" had already, in 1813, been
constructed by Dr. Clanny, the principle of which was forcing in air through
water by bellows ; but the raachine was ponderous and coraplicated, and required
a boy to work it. M. Humboldt had previously, in 1796, constructed a lamp for
mines upon the same principle as that of Dr. Clanny.
Davy, having conceived that flame and explo.sion raay be regulated and ar
rested, began a minute chemical examination of fire-damp. He found that car-
buretted-hydrogen gas, even when mixed with fourteen tiraes its bulk of atmos
pheric air, vvas still explosive. He ascertained that explosions of inflammable
gases were incapable of being passed through long, narrow metallic tubes ; and
that this principle of security was still obtained by diminishing their length and
diameter at the same time, and likewise diminishing their length and increas
ing their nuraber, so that a great number of small apertures would not pass
cxjjlosion when their depth was equal to their diameter. This fact led to trials
upon sieves of wire-gauze ; he found that if a piece of wire gauze was held over
the flame of a lamp, or coal-gas, it prevented the flame from passing ; and he
ascertained that a flame confined in a cylinder of very fine wire-gauze did not ex
plode even in a mixture of oxygen and hydrogen, but that the gases burned in it
with great vivacity. These experiments served as the basis of the safety-lamp.
Sir Huraphry Davy presented his finst coraraunication respecting his discov
ery of the safety-lamp to the Royal Society in 18 15. This was followed by a
series of papers, crowned by that read on January 11, 1816, when the principle
of the safety-lamp vvas announced, and Sir Humphry presented to the .society
a model made by his own hands, which is to this day preserved in the collection
of the Royal Society at Burlington House.
There have been several modifications of the safety-lamp, and the merit of
the discovery has been claimed by others, among whom was Mn George Ste
phenson ; but the question was set at rest in 181 7 by an examination, attested by
Sir Joseph Banks, P.R.S., Mn Brande, Mn Hatchett, and Dn Wollaston, and
awarding the independent merit to Davy.
It should be explained that Stephenson's larap was formed on the principle of

280 WORKMEN AND HEROES
admitting the fire-damp by narrow tubes, and " in such small detached portions
that it would be consumed by combustion." The two lamps were doubtless dis
tinct inventions ; though Davy, in all justice, appears to be entitled to precedence,
not only in point of date, but as regards the long chain of inductive reasoning
concerning the nature of flame by which his result was arrived at.
Meanwhile, the Report by the Parliamentary Coramittee "cannot admit that
the experinients (raade with the larap) have any tendency to detract from the
character of Sir Humphry Davy, or to disparage the fair value placed by hiraself
upon his invention. The improvements are probably those which longer life and
additional facts would have induced him to contemplate as desirable, and of
which, had he not been the inventor, he might have become the patron."
" I value it," Davy used to say, with the kindliest exultation, " raore than any
thing I ever did ; it was the result of a great deal of investigation and labor ; but
if my directions be attended to, it will save the lives of thousands of poor men."
The principle of the invention may be thus summed up : In the safety-lamp,
the mixture of the fire-damp and atmospheric air within the cage of wire-gauze
explodes upon. coming in contact with the flame ; but the combustion cannot
pass through the wire-gauze ; and being there imprisoned, cannot impart to the
explosiv^e atmosphere of the mine any of its force. This effect has been attributed
to the cooling influence of the raetal ; but, since the wires may be brought to a
degree of heat but little below redness without igniting the fire-damp, this does
not appear to be the cause.
Professor Playfair has elegantly characterized the safety-lamp of Davy as a
present from philosophy to the arts, a discovery in no degree the effect of acci
dent or chance, but the result of patient and enlightened research, and strongly
exemplifying the great use of an immediate and constant appeal to experiment.
After characterizing the invention as the sluitting-up in a net of the most slender
texture of a most violent and irresistible force, and a power that in its treraen
dous effects seeras to emulate the lightning and the earthquake, Professor Playfair
thus concludes : "When to this vve add the beneficial consequences, and the
saving of the lives of raen, and consider that the effects are to reraain as lono- as
coal continues to be dug frora the bowels of the earth, it may be fairly said that
there is hardly, in the whole compass of art or science a single invention of which
one would rather wish to be the authon . . . This," says Professor Playfair,
"is exactly such a case as we should choose to place before Bacon, were he to re
visit the earth ; in order to give him, in a small compass, an idea of the advance
ment which philosophy has made since the time when he had pointed out to her
the route which she ought to pursue."
Honors were showered upon Davy. He received frora the RovmI Society
the Copley, Royal, and Rumford Medals, and several times delivered the Bakerian
Lecture. He also received Napoleon's prize for the advancement of oa]\'anic
researches from the French Institute. The invention of the safety-lamp brouo-ht
hira the public gratitude of the united colliers of Whitehaven, of the coal pro
prietors of the north of England, of the grand jury of Durham, of the Chamber

GENERAL SAN MARTIN 281
of Commerce at Mons, of the coal-miners of Flanders, and, above all, of the
coal-owners of the Wear and the Tyne, who presented hira (it was his own
choice) with a dinner-service of silver worth _;^2,5oo. On the sarae occasion,
Alexander, the Emperor of all the Russias, sent him a vase, with a letter of com
mendation. In i8i'7, he was elected to the dignity of an associate of the Insti
tute of France ; next year, at the age of forty, he was created a baronet.
Davy's discoveries form a remarkable epoch in the history of the Royal So
ciety during the early part of this century; and from 1821 to 1829 almost every
volume of the Transactions contains a comraunication by him. He was presi
dent of the Royal Society from 1820 to 1827.
Fond of travel, geology, and sport, Davy visited, for the purpose of mineral
ogy and angling, alraost every county of England and Wales. He was provided
with a portable laboratory, that he raight experiment when he chose, as well as
fish and shoot. In 1827, upon resigning the presidency of the Royal Society, he
retired to the continent ; in 1829, at Geneva, his palsy-stricken body returned to
the dust. They buried him at Geneva, where a simple monument stands at the
head of the hospitable grave. There is a tablet to his memory in Westminster
Abbey ; there is a monument at Penzance ; and his widow founded a memorial
chemical prize in the University of Geneva. His public services of plate, his
imperial vases, his foreign prizes, his royal medals, shall be handed down with
triumph to his collateral posterity as trophies won from the depths of nescience ;
but his work, designed by his own genius, executed by his own hand, tracery and
all, and every single stone signalized by his own private mark, indelible, charac
teristic, and inimitable — his work is the only record of his name. How deeply
are its foundations rooted in space, and how lasting its materials for time !

GENERAL SAN MARTIN*
By Hezekiah Butterworth
(l 778-1850)
" Seras lo que debes ser,
Y sino, no seras nada."
San Martin.
^^yy^'g^AN Martin, the ideal liberator of South America from the long
and tyrannical rule of Spanish viceroys, was one of the most reraark-
^W? able raen of his own or of any age. From a moral point of view he
stands in the first rank of the world's heroes. " He was not a raan,"
^'iS!^y:&:*^^ said a student of South Araerican history, " he was a raission."
Cincinnatus, after serving the state, returned to the plough, and Washington to
the retirement of Mt. Vernon ; but San Martin forthe peace of his country went
* Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

282 WORKMEN AND HEROES
into voluntary exile. His country crowned him dead and made for his dead body
a tomb of Peace, surrounded by the marble angels of the arts of huraan progress,
more beautiful in its meaning than any torab on the Appian Way, and one of the
most wonderful memorials on earth.
The Battle of Maipii, of which San Martin was the victor, completed the
emancipation of South Araerica, and made the achievements of Bolivar easy in
the Northern Andes. Said the hero of Maipu — and what words of man under
the circumstances ever equaUed the declaration in moral sublimity ! —
"The presence of a fortunate general, however disinterested he may be, is
dangerous to a newly founded state. I have achieved the independence of
Peru : I have ceased to be a public raan ! " He died at Boulogne, France, in
poverty, after nearly thirty years of exiled and fameless life. His career seeras
like that of sorae hero of fiction, such as the imagination of a Plato, a Bacon, or
a Sir Thomas More might create for an Utopia. He is the one perfectly unsel
fish man in history, and his fame has grown steadily in Spanish America, since
Argentina built a tomb-palace for his reraains, and decreed for him one of the
most splendid funerals ever known to the Western World.
General Don Joachim de la Pezuela, the last Spanish ruler of Peru, was the
forty-fourth viceroy frora Pizarro. "The Indians," he said, "love the raeraory
of the Incas — the country is ready to rise." The banner of Argentina vvas put
ting to flight the condors of the Andes, and the last viceroy saw in its advance
the end of Spain in the New World.
The Argentine hero who had created the army of the Andes for universal
liberty was San Martin. He was born on February 25, 1778, at Yapeyu, in"
Misiones. His father was a South American officer under the last rule of the
viceroys. The family removed to Spain in his boyhood, and he becarae for two
years a pupil in the Seminary of Nobles, at Madrid. At the age of twelve he
becarae a cadet, wearing a uniform of blue and white, which he made in man
hood the colors of South American emancipation.
He fought in the war against the Moors, and in the carapaign against France,
in 1793. In 1800 he took part in the so-called " War of the Oranges against
Portugal." In the early part of the nineteenth century there began to be formed in Spain
secret societies for the purpose of advancing the cause of liberty and human prog
ress. One of these associations, called Caballeros Racionalcs, became verv in
fluential, and corresponded with the society of the Grand Reunion of America
{Gran Reunion Americana) of London. This societv was pledged "to recog
nize no government in America as legitimate unless it vvas elected by the free
wiU of the people." San Martin joined this society. The London society was
established by Miranda, the Spanish patriot, a friend of Bolivar, by whose inspi
rations San Martin became a disciple of liberty, and whose dreams he fulfilled
long after the patriot was dead.
San Martin won honors and a medal in the Spanish resistance to the victo
rious eagles of Napoleon. In that campaign he fought under a banner of the

GENERAL SAN MARTIN 283
Sun, having this motto in Latin : " We bear this aloft dispersing the clouds."
He made this banner the flag of the array of the Andes.
In 1812, San Martin, as a disciple of the principles of the Spanish apostle of
liberty, Miranda, returned to South Araerica, and in March went to Buenos
Ayres, and offered his sword to the Argentine patriots for the cause of independ
ence. The country was in revolution against the Spanish rule. San Martin was
not only an American, but a Creole ; he was unselfish, truthful, the soul of honor,
and of all men in the world the one that would seera best fitted to lead the cause
of the South Araerican patriots. He was destined to become " the greatest of
the Creoles of the New World."
Soon after the arrival of San Martin in Buenos Ayres he raarried Dona
Remedies Esculada, and Mercedes, a daughter of this marriage, shared with him
his voluntary exile after the conquest of Peru.
Appointed at once to a high military position under the Argentine Govern
ment, he conceived t'he plan of creating an army of the Andes, of crossing the
Cordillera, and of driving the Spaniards frora Chile.
Mendoza, with which Buenos Ayres is now connected by railroad, lies on an
elevation under the snowy Cordilleras. San Martin made his military carap here.
On January 17, 181 7, he began his march up the Andes, one of the most perilous
achievements of modern warfafe. The summit of the Uspallata Pass, over which
the army was to climb, is 12,500 feet above the level of the sea, or 4,000 feet
higher than the Pass of St. Bernard.
The 17th, on which the array set forth, was a high holiday in Mendoza. The
plaza was gay with banners, and the streets with patriotic decorations. The ladies
of- the city presented an erabroidered flag to San Martin. The general, above
whose head gleamed the snowy heights of the Andes, ascended a platform in the
plaza, and waved this flag over his head, and shouted :
" Soldiers, behold the first flag of independence ! "
There arose a great shout of " Viva la Patria ! "
" Soldiers, swear to sustain it."
"We swear," answered the army, as one man.
Salvos of musketry and artillery followed. Mitre, in his " Life of San Mar
tin," as presented to us in the condensed translation of Pilling, eloquently says
that this flag rose "for the redemption of one-half of South America, passed the
Cordilleras, waved in triumph along the Pacific coast, floated over the foundations
of two new republics, aided in the liberation of another, and after sixty-four years
served as a funeral pall to the body of the hero, who thus delivered it to the care
of the iramortal Army of the Andes."
The raountains rose above the departing army, piercing the sky in the fading
day. Up they climbed, putting to flight the condors. The men suffered greatly
from the rarefaction of the air. Even raany of the animals of the expedition
perished. Out of 9,261 mules, only 4,300 ever reached Chile.
" What spoils my sleep," said San Martin, on surveying the Andes at the
outset of the expedition, " is not the strength of the enemy, but how to pass those

284 . WORKMEN AND HEROES
immense mountains." He might well say that, for before him gleamed peaks
21,000 feet high.
The army, with all its sufferings, triumphantly crossed the lower passes of
the Cordilleras, and entered Chile. This raarch decided the fate of South Araerica.
The array encamped upon the Sierra of Chacubuco, from the summit of which
the vvhole of the magnificent country could be seen. Here rose the flag of Ub-
eration. The flower of the Spanish army, inferior in numbers, was nean On
February 12th a battle was fought, and the royalists were defeated with a loss of
500 men killed, 600 taken prisoners, and all of their artillery.
The way was now open to Santiago, the -capital. The army entered the city
amid the acclamations of the people. The Chilian assembly met and offered San
Martin the office of governor, with dictatorial powen But San Martin was not
fighting for power, or honor, but for the liberties of his countrymen, and he
nobly declined the office.
The guns of Buenos Ayres roared, and the city was turned into a festival,
when the news of the triumph of the army of the Andes reached the coast. The
Argentine Government offered to bestow on San Martin its highest honors, but
the lattei- declined them, lest his work should be retarded and his motives of Ufe
should be misconstrued. It awai;ded to his daughter a life pension, which he de
voted to her education.
Santiago offered to him 10,000 ounces of gold. He refused the splendid
purse which he had so well won, but recoramended that the money be used for
the cause of popular education in the form of a public library.
Chile and Argentina now formed an alliance in defence of their liberties.
But the royal army was gathering force and unity. On March 31st, it num
bered 5,500 men, and was prepared to make a final stand against the army of
liberation. There is a river in Chile which divides the country, named the Maipo, or
Maipii. On its banks the royal army encamped on the first days of April, 1818.
The patriot array was close at hand, and each army felt that the battle to follow
would decide the fate of the raovement for the independence of the South Araer
ican empire.
It is April 5, 1818. The royal array is ready for action, and the patriots
occupy the heights of Loraa Blanca, overlooking the plains of the Maipu.
" Do not a\yait a charge to-day," ordered San Martin; ''but charge dXw?cjs
within fifty paces ! "
At the beginning of the action he said,
" I take the sun to witness that the day is ours."
Just then the sun, which had been clouded, shone from the" heavens.
The royal array was defeated. That night of May 5th covered their flight,
and the War of Independence was won.
San Martin began now to plan the liberation of Peru, and to create a navy
for the purpose of commanding the ports of the golden raountains and rich
plateaus of the inearial realras.

GENERAL SAN MARTIN 285
In August, 1820, he had gathered a patriot force of 4,500 men at Y^alparaiso,
and was ready to embark for the conquest by sea. The array was coraposed of
Argentines and Chilians. A forraer expedition had made the way of victory
clear to the patriots. The fleet left Valparaiso August 21, 1820. The army
landed in Peru and began operations near Lima.
San Martin began his Chilian campaign by the liberation of the slaves, whom
he afterward found trusty soldiers. He began the Peruvian war by issuing a
most noble manifesto to his countrymen, in which he said : " Ever since I came
back to my native land, the independence of Peru has been present in my mind."
And again he grandly announced his future policy in nearly these words :
" From the time that a government is established by the people of Peru, the
army of the Andes will obey its orders."
The army of hberation was as successful in Peru as in Chile. The empire iof
the viceroys crumbled and fell. Amid the roar of cannon, the shouts of the p6o-,
pie, and strewing of flowers, the independence of Peru was proclaimed on July
20, 182 1, in the great square of Lima. San Martin, as in Chile, was offered the
supreme authority under the title of the Protector of Peru. . He made use of
the office merely for the pacification of the country. He convened the first Con
gress in Peru, and to the new government he addressed the words, or words like
those, that we have quoted at the beginning of this article. He saw that Bolivar
was the man to complete the liberation and bring about the unity of South
America. The cause was all to him : he was nothing.
To Bolivar he wrote : " My decision is irrevocable. I have convened the
first Congress of Peru. The day of its installation I shall leave for Chile, con
vinced that my presence is the only obstacle that prevents you from coming to
Peru." He sent to Bolivar a parting gift, saying, " Receive this memento frora the
first of your adrairers, and with my desire that you have the glory of finishing
the war for the independence of South America."
The history of chivalry has no match for the character of San Martin. Boli
var united patriotism and vanity ; San Martin's glory was self-abnegation. At a
banquet where the two were present, Bolivar once offered the following toast :
" To the two greatest men in South America — San Martin and myself."
San Martin foUowed vvith his toast. " To the speedy end of the war ; to the
establishment of the republics, and to the health of the Liberator of Colombia ! "
The two toasts were photographs. Time is lifting the character of San Mar
tin into its true place araong glorious men. He vvas a raan vvho fought for
peace. His life fulfilled his own motto : " Thou shalt be what thou oughtest to
be, or else thou shalt be nothing."
On critical occasions, his magnaniraous soul rose to the sublimity of this
motto, and to the end of his life of glory and poverty he was always able to say.

I have been what I ought !

//e^^^ /f£4/^U^/!^

286

WORKMEN AND HEROES

GEORGE STEPHENSON*
By Professor C. .M. Woodward
(i 781-1848)
Far in the north of England, near the Scottish
border, by the shore of the Gerraan Ocean, is
the county of brown and barren hills called Nor
thumberland, and its principal city, Newcastle, fa
mous for its coal. There is another Newcastle near
the centre of England, so this one is often distin
guished by the name "Newcastle-on-Tyne" — Tyne
being the blackest and dirtiest of all rivers.
A fevv miles from Newcastle, up the Tyne, is the
little mining village of Wylam, where, a hundred
years ago, lived Robert Stephenson and his vvife
Mabel. There was no style about Wylam, and few
evidences of wealth or culture. The houses straggled about near the outlets of
the coal-mines, and everything was as uninviting as it well could be. Stephen
son's house, or rather " shanty," had but one room, and that had an earthen floor.
Robert and Mabel were about as ill-furnished as their house ; for neither could
read, they had not a book nor a print, and neither knew much more of the world
than could be seen, as they stood on the bank of the Tyne and looked about on
the neighboring hills and down toward Newcastle. In 1892 I rode down the
valley of the Tyne, past Wylam, through Newcastle, and over the high bridge
that our fireman's grandson, Robert, built in later days. Few valleys are less
attractive, and few seem less likely to be the birthplace of epoch-making men.
Robert Stephenson, the father of our hero, was a fireman, earning two shil
lings a day. He was sober and industrious, but as would be expected, he never
" got on." He was a good story-teUer, and transmitted to his children healthy
bodies and clear heads. George was the second of six chUdren, and he was born
June 9, 1 781, during our war for independence. His boyhood w^as unevent
ful enough. When the weather was cold he was cooped up in their narrow
home ; he was out of doors whenever the weather would permit. He played in
the street, ran errands, carried his father's dinner, and herded cows, as soon as he
was big enough, for four cents per day. At fourteen he vvas assistant-fireman,
earning twenty-five cents a day, and at seventeen he was "plugman." He was
thus in contact with much that had been achieved in the way of buildino- enmnes
and transporting raaterials on cars. But I must describe the engines then in
use, and explain vvhat it was to be a " plugman."
The coal-mines were so deep that, in spite of the valleys, they could be
drained only by pumps, and it vvas often more difficult to keep the water out
"Copyright. 1894, hy Sclmnr Hess.

GEORGE STEPHENSON 287
than it was to lift the coal out. The steam-engine was then in a very incomplete
condition, and both pumping- and lifting-engines were crude and clumsy affairs.
To be sure Watt, the mathematical instruraent-maker, had invented the double-
acting steam-engine, but few had be^n manufactured, and those in coraraon use
were "atmospheric" engines, known as "Newcomen's" engines. A pumping-
engine had a long, vertical cylinder, with arrangeraents for admitting steam at
the top. The weight of the piston, piston-rod, and pump-rod, which ran down a
shaft to the lowest point in the mine, being balanced by a counter-weight on a
sort of well-sweep, the steam, admitted by hand, forced the piston to the bottom
of the cylinder. The steam was then shut off, and a spray of water was turned
on within the cylinder. This water condensed the steam and reduced the press
ure within to almost nothing, so that the air pressure on the exterior face of the
piston (which amounted to over a ton for every square foot of surface) drove the
piston to the top of the cylinder, and lifted the fuU length of the stroke a large
quantity of water.'
It is evident that the office of engineer vvas not an easy one. It vvas all he
could do to take care of the steam end of the pump ; another man was needed
to look after the lower end, where the pump-valve worked in another vertical
cylinder. The water entered this cylinder through holes in the .sides, some
higher, some lower, according to the stage of water in the mine. The pumps
did not run continuously, but they lowered the water to the bottom as often as
it was necessary. As the level of the water in the raine fell, it vvas necessary to
plug the upper holes in the purap cylinder ; the man who watched the lower end
and plugged those holes was known as the "plugman." It is difficult to con-
ceiv^e of a less inspiring occupation than that to which George Stephenson was
promoted at the age of seventeen. Alone in the dark, chilled by the damp air,
and wet by the black water, he was forced, by lack of other occupation, to note
every mechanical detail of the machinery, and to study raethods of iraprov
ing it.
At the age of eighteen he heard of some wonderful engines made by Watt &
Boulton, at their new factory, and was told that the engines vvere fully described
and illustrated in books. So he deterrained to learn to read. He vvas encour
aged in this resolve by stories that a French soldier, by the name of Napoleon
Bonaparte, was sweeping everything before him on the continent of Europe, and
that he was planning the subjugation of Great Britain. Information about Na
poleon could be gained frora printed newspapers if one could only read.
But where should he learn ? There was no public school in Wylam ; none of
our hero's companions went to school ; none of the people he associated with
could read or write. However, he found a teacher in a young man by the name
of Robert Covvens, of whora he took three lessons per week in the evening.
He earned money for books and instruction by mending shoes and repairing
clocks. He was handy with tools, and quick at seeing the relations of things.
As soon as he could read and write he learned to cipher, taking a slateful of
"sums," set by his teacher, to his work in the morning, to be "done" during

288 WORKMEN AND HEROES
odd moments while watching his pump or engine, for he was soon advanced to
the care of the steara end of the machine.
While young Stephenson, now grown a man, is thus busy with his primer,
his copy-book, and " four rules," let us refle.ct upon the uncanny circumstances of
his early life. He had no luxuries, few real comforts. The people around him
lived half the time underground in raines that were dark, darap, and dangerous
— in constant war with water and a poisonous, explosive, natural gas, known as
" fire-damp." Above ground there was little that was attractive or educative.
The young men had their garaes, at which George was fairly successful, for he
was strong and active. The ale-house stood near by, and it absorbed raost of the
spare tirae and scant earnings of the miners ; but it is said that young Stephenson
avoided the saloon, and was never known to leave his work for a drink of liquor.
On off-days he took his engine to pieces, examined its parts and the functions of
each, and reraedied small defects and devised improvements. Naturally clear
headed and ingenious, every circumstance tended to develop his executive pow
ers. He soon was known in the Tyne vaUey as a good engine-docton
An incident, when he was about twenty years of age, did much to shape his
career. He heard that a neighboring mine had been flooded on account of the
inability, of the engine to pump fast enough. No engineer could make the en
gine efficient. One Sunday he went down and looked at it. After a thorough
examination he said he could make it work in a week's time if he could have
authority to make changes as he saw fit. Authority was given him. In four
days the engine was repaired and set to work. In spite of jeers from old en
gine-men, who were jealous of a mere boy, the pump worked well and the mine
was soon dry. George's reputation was made, and he soon received appoint
ment as engineer at a large mine at Killingworth, an important place near by.
Meanwhile Stephenson added exact instrumental drawing to his three R's.
He found, as every artisan finds, that exact drawing is necessary not only to the
study of existing raechanical devices, but particularly to the successful design of
new parts. The successful inventor generally invents at his drawing-board.
When twenty-one years of age Stephenson raarried Fanny Henderson, a re
spectable country girl living at Ballast Hill. He brought the bride home behind
him on a pillion, a wedding journey of fifteen railes. Robert Stephenson, who
becarae his father's partner, and one of the first of England's civil engineers, was
born in 1803. In 181 2, when Stephenson was thirty-one years old, he was made
engine-wright of a large colliery at Killingworth, at a salary of $-500. The posi
tion was one of profit and fine opportunity. All the engines and machinery were
in his hands, and all the repair- and construction-shops were available for such
new designs as he saw fit to make. He at once set about making his first loco
raotive. Locoraotives and railroads of certain sorts and fashions were already in exist
enee, but they were rough and clumsy affairs.
The rails were at first angle-irons, then flat bars of wrought iron, then cast-
iron bars. In 1800 Benjamin Outram used stones for sleepers, and iraproved

GEORGE STEPHENSON 289
rails — hence "tramways." Over these tramways cars were drawn by horses, or
by ropes from stationary engines. Murduck made a locoraotive in 1 784, and by
1 8 1 2 several types of engines were used for hauling coal-cars. Stephenson saw
one of Blenkinsop's engines. Gear-wheels connected the crank-shaft with the
axles, and the driving-wheels were geared with the track, while of course, the coal-
cars ran on different rails.
This Blenkinsop's engine was a fearful machine. All the teeth rattled, and
as there were no springs and the road was very uneven, the shocks were heavy
and frequent, even though its speed was only four miles an hour.
Stephenson's first engine, " My Lord," in honor of his patron. Lord Ravens-
worth, was finished in 18 14. Some experiments on the friction of smooth wheels
on iron rails led him to omit the teeth on the drivers, though everyone laughed
at him, declaring that the engine would not run an " up grade," much less draw
a load. His faith, however, resisted all arguraents ; it was based on experiraents
and careful calculations. Stephenson knew that his engine would run up hill and
draw a load, and it did so triumphantly.
But the engine lacked steam. The boiler was small, and the fire was applied
only on the exterior of the shell, and the draft was very poor, for the chimney
was of necessity short. Only very low steam-pressure was possible, and little or
no expansion was practicable. Consequently the exhaust was noisy and forcible.
Stephenson turned it into the chimney and found that it increased the draft con
siderably ; he at once thought that a steady jet of steam could be so directed as
to make a strong draft even when the engine vvas not in motion. Thus the
" blast " was invented, which about doubled the capacity of the raachine.
Stephenson's second locomotive, built in 181 5, had no noisy gears, but in
stead, chain-belts to the driving-axles. It had, however, no springs, and the
shocks were so great that only a low speed was possible. In 1816 he built
locomotives with springs, some of which were in use for hauling coals for forty
years. Meanwhile Robert was growing into a raanly, useful lad. Knowing sorae
thing of the value of education, both of the head and of the hand, his father de
terrained that Robert should have the best of both. He was sent to Edinburgh
for scientific culture, and when at horae his father taught hira drawing, mechan
ical processes, and the theory of machines as far as he was able — and his ability
was considerable, for George Stephenson was raore of a student than many
vv^hose early advantages were far better than his. The broad dual training given
Robert appears to have been fully successful. Even before he became a man
he was of great value to his father. Together they worked out plans for modi
fying and improving the locoraotive and the road it was to run upon. He could
soon draw and calculate better than his father, but he never exceUed hira in the
solution of practical probleras which depended upon a knowledge of materials
and the simple laws of physics and mechanics.
Thus far all railroads had been short, leading from mines to piers for ship
ping by water. The success of Stephenson's locomotive, the best working loco-
19

290 WORKMEN AND HEROES
raotive ever built at that time, led the proprietors of the Hetton Colliery, a few
miles south of the Tyne valley, to propose a road, some eight miles long, over
high hills and on steep grades. Stephenson planned and superintended the con
struction of the road as their engineen There were several steep inclines where
loaded cars going down drew empty cars up. There were two heavy stationary
engines drawing cars by a rope, and five of Stephenson's locomotives for the
easy grades. Each locomotive drew seventeen wagons, weighing about sixty-
four tons, at the rate of four miles per houn This was the best done as yet, and
was considered a great success. It thoroughly established the reputation of
George Stephenson as an engineen This road was opened in 1822.
Before the Hetton Railway was opened Stephenson was busy on a larger
work. Parliament had given a franchise for a railway in Durhara County, some
twenty railes long, through Darlington to Stockton. The function of the road
was to carry coal to a shipping pier, and it was not at all settled that horses
would not be used to draw the cars. While not much was known about railways,
and very little about locomotives, there was a growing conviction that there was
great economy in the use of tramways and the steam-engine, and the prospect
brightened for building the road.
The charming biographer. Smiles, tells how George Stephenson called on Mn
Edward Pease, the president of the proposed railway, and offered his services in
building and equipping the road. Mr. Pease was at once pleased with the man.
"There was," said he later, "such an honest, sensible look about him, and he
seemed so modest and unpretending. He spoke in the strong Northumbrian
dialect, and described himself as ' only the engine-wright at Killingworth.' "
Stephenson urged at once that the road be built for locomotives. Mr. Pease
had never seen a locoraotive at work, and had taken it for granted that horses
would be used ; but he vvent up to Killingworth and rode on the " Blucher " with
Stephenson, while it hauled a train of loaded cars. Seeing was believing, and
Mr. Pease was in favor of both Stephenson and his locomotive.
So Stephenson was made chief engineer. He and his son Robert surveyed
the line, changed the location, avoiding certain territory where people were hos
tile to a road of any sort, and built new and improved locomotives for the line.
What vve now call good tools were not to be had, and skilled workmen were not
easy to find, but Stephenson made a great advance in the quality of the work
raanship. The araended Act of Parliaraent gave the Stockton and Darlington line the
right to carry passengers in cars drawn by locoraotives. This vvas the first in
stance of such a grant. Stephen.son met Mn Pease in 1821 ; the road was
opened to the public in 1825. People came in crowds to see the locomotives
and to ride on the first public railway. There had been bitter opposition to the
road and a vast amount of incredulity as to the ability of the locomotives to do
practical work.
Imagine the excitement of the first ride. The train consisted of 6 cars
loaded with coal and other freight ; then a short passenger coach filled with di-

GEORGE STEPHENSON 291
rectors and friends ; then 2 1 open cars or wagons fitted for excursionists ; lastly
came 6 more cars loaded vvith coal — raaking 38 cars in all !
Mr. Stephenson was proud to be on the locoraotive and to run it himself. It
seeraed to spectators incredible that the locoraotive could start such a load, but
it did start it, and it drew it 8^ railes in 65 rainutes, the speed at times reaching
12 miles per hour! More cars were added at Darlington, and then the train
drew on to Stockton, all cars being crowded with passengers.
The success was coraplete, and all doubts seemed to vanish. From that day
the traffic over the road continued without interruption. To the surprise of all,
the passenger business becarae a very important item, and better cars were
quickly in demand.
The road is in use to-day, and I had the pleasure last year of riding over a
part of it. Of course it now looks in all respects like a modern English road,
but I was deeply moved by the thought that it was there that George Stephen
son built his first public railway and achieved his first public triuraph.
Stephenson was not unraindful of the importance of that step. He said, on
that occasion, to some young men, " Now, lads, I will tell you that I think you
will live to see the day (though I may not live so long), when railways will eome
to supersede almost all other methods of conveyance — when mail coaches wUl go
by railway. The time is coming when it will be cheaper for a working-man to
ride than to go on foot." He lived to see all that himself, and far more.
It is difficult for us to appreciate the popular surprise and delight at that first
railway excursion. We are so accustoraed to splendid engines, luxurious cars,
and high speed, that vve think nothing of them ; but when all were new — when
coaches and carts on highways were the sole reliance for passengers and freight —
it vvas astonishing indeed to see a "travelling engine," in charge of two men, draw
a train of forty cars and six hundred people !
Many men would have been satisfied with the result, but Stephenson was not.
He said there was no lirait to the speed but the strength of the machinery and
the supply of steam. He saw there was no limit to the load but the strength and
weight of the locoraotive, and no lirait to the weight but the strength of the raUs
and the character of the road-bed ; thus he early saw how progress was to be
made. But Stephenson's greatest triuraph was yet to come. The Darlington road
was chiefly for coals, between small towns in a rough northern county. The vast
majority of English people heard nothing, and knew nothing about it. Conse
quently when it was proposed to connect the great commercial city of Liverpool
with the great manufacturing city of Manchester, forty miles away, by a railvva}-,
it was taken for granted that the cars were to be drawn by horses. Nevertheless
a tram-road was opposed, first, by the Duke of Bridgewater, who had a canal be
tween the two cities ; and, secondly, by those who owned the coaches and the
inns. Though proposed in 1821, the opposition was so great that it was laid
over for several years. In 1824 a committee of interested parties went to Dar-
lino-ton and Killingworth to see Stephenson's road and locomotives. The Dar-

292 WORKMEN AND HEROES
lino-ton line was not yet in operation, but the old locoraotives were at work at
Killingworth. The coramittee decided that they must have a double track for
cars, whatever might be the motive powen
Accordingly Stephenson was invited to make surveys and estimates, as he was
said to be a man of great energy and the only man in England with the necessary
experience. The surveys were raade in 1825 with the greatest difficulty, on account of the
opposition of landowners. The surveyors were ordered off the grounds, threat
ened with arrest and violence. Stephenson testified before a Parliaraentary Cora
mittee that the duke's manager threatened to have him thrown into the mill-pond
if he trespassed. Stephenson kept on as good terms as he could with the hos-
tiles, and surveyed their grounds by stealth.
The chief points of difficulty were a tunnel at Liverpool, and a vast and
treacherous morass known as " Chat Moss."
Early in 1825, before the Darlington road was opened. Parliament was con
sidering the railway biU and Stephenson was called before the committee as a
most important witness. All the opposition was out in force and every means
was used to ridicule the undertaking and defeat the bill.
The spectacle presented by plain, blunt, unlettered George Stephenson before
the lawyers and members of the House of Commons was strange and interesting,
and no wonder it has become historical.
In the cross-examination, every effort was made to confuse and discredit
the witness, but he bore himself remarkably well. He had built or superintended
half a dozen short railways, and had constructed sixteen locomotives, and he
could speak on the details of his plans with certainty and confidence. Two things
embarrassed hira ; the consciousness of awkwardness of manner and speech
among men some of whora were inclined to sneer at his northern dialect and lack
of polish ; secondly, the necessity of restraining himself in stating vvhat his loco
motives could do. He fully believed they could draw long trains at the speed of
twenty miles, but he was told by the friends of the bill that if he made that claim
before the committee, he would be called a madman, and the bill would be
killed ; accordingly he promised to hold himself down to ten railes per hour.
The evidence brought in against the bill was remarkable, and to-day it
sounds strange enough. It was urged that the rails would bend under the loco
motive at high speed ; that the engine would run off the track on curves ; that if
the engine got round the curves the cars would go off ; that the driving-wheels
would " spin," if they went fast, without drawing the train ; that the noise and
sight of the train would frighten horses and cattle ; that hens would not lav and
cows would cease to give milk along by the road ; that the smoke vvould poison
the air and blast the fields and parks ; that the coach lines would be ruined,
horses would no longer be of value, and coach-makers, harness-makers, inn
keepers and others along the great roads vvould have nothing to do, etc., etc.
In the face of ignorance, ridicule, contempt, and self-interest, Stephenson firraly
raaintained the safety of a good road, the stability of his engines and cars, the

GEORGE STEPHENSON 293
harmlessness of smoke and noise, and the facility with which animals became in
different to trains. He said that at Killingworth cattle would not stop feeding
as the trains went by. As to the effect of speed, he boldly asserted that at
twelve miles per hour the load on a rail would be no more than at six, and in
support of his position he appealed to skaters who go swiftly over thin ice. As
to the "spinning" of the wheels, he was positive that no such thing ever had
happened or could happen. The enemies of the bill caught at his suggestion of
twelve miles per hour, and so pressed and led him on that he declared his honest
conviction that his trains could run on such a road as he could raake twelve
railes per hour. This rashness alarmed his friends, and they tried in vain to
smooth it overby declaring such speed to be purely "hypothetical."
In spite of all that could be said in its favor, in spite of the pressing need of
better transportation for coal, cotton, merchandise, and passengers, the bill failed.
Such was the blindness, and ignorance, and prejudice of the House of Commons !
Think of calling George Stephenson "an ignoramus, a fool, a maniac," in Parlia
ment, yet such was done.
The friends of the bill were not discouraged ; they determined to apply again
the next year ; but poor Stephenson was discredited, Mr. George Rennie, the
great bridge engineer, was employed to raake a new sUrvey, and Mn Stephenson
was not called before the committee. Meanwhile, the Darlington line was
opened, and reports of its success had reached London. It seemed to be ad
mitted that the road was a good thing, but there was great scepticism in regard
to the locoraotive. However, the bill passed in the spring of 1826, and the
directors vvere not long in deciding that the only competent man to build the
road was George Stephenson, and he was elected principal engineer at a salary
of $5,000. The building of the road seemed to be, and was at the time, a tremendous
undertaking. Bridges, viaducts, tunnels, and above all. Chat Moss, a yielding
bog four miles across and of unknown depth, all taxed the engineer and the
corapany to the utmost. The road was finished in 1830. With the exception of
bridges and rails it was very much as it exists to-day.
For a long tirae the directors were undecided as to the raethod of propelling
the cars. Nearly every engineer except Stephenson vvas opposed to the loco
motive, or travelling engine.
It seeras incredible that Telford and the two Rennies, road -makers and
bridge-builders, lacked faith in the locomotive, and preferred stationary engines
and long cables. Their raain objection to the locoraotive appears to have been
based on the fact that the steam capacity vvas small, and that it was irapracti
cable to build a locoraotive large enough to furnish all the steara that was
needed. Stephenson insisted that already his locomotives were better than sta
tionary engines, and yet they could be greatly improved. He said, "Offer a gen
erous prize for the best locomotive, and inventors and builders will greatly im
prove their machines, and we will hav^e a far better locomotive than novv." He
said he felt sure he could make a much better one hiraself. By that tirae Ste-

294 WORKMEN AND HEROES
phenson was part owner in new locomotive works at Newcastle, and Robert was
in general charge there.
The puzzled directors decided to adopt Stephenson's suggesrion, and offered
$2,500 as a prize for the best locomorive. The specifications required :
1. The engine (without tender) must not weigh more than six tons.
2. The ordinary steara pressure must not exceed 50 pounds above that of the
atmosphere. 3. It must be well supplied with safety-valves and pressure-gauges.
4. It must not exceed fifteen feet in height
5. It raust rest on springs.
6. It must be able (if weighing six tons) to draw twenty tons continuously
ten miles per hour.
7. It must not cost raore than $2,750.
8. The boiler raust stand a pressure, when tested, of 1 50 pounds per square
inch. 9. It raust be ready for trial October i, 1829.
The publication of these conditions and the offer of the prize excited great
interest, and caused no small amount of comment. ¦'¦' The Stephensons at once
began the construction of "The Rocket," without doubt the most famous loco
motive ever built. The improved feature it was to have vvas increased heating
surface, so that without increased weight it could generate more steam. This
was effected by putting fire-tubes through the water in the boiler. Boiler-tubes
had already been used by different people, and some of Stephenson's locomotives
which he had sent to France had been fitted with tubes. At the suggestion of
Mr. James Booth, Stephenson decided to use a large number of tubes. Modern
boilers have smaller tubes and more of them, but " The Rocket " was the first
to typify the modern multitubular boilen In other respects "The Rocket " was
like Stephenson's other locoraotives built ten or twelve years earlier.
A brief description of " The Rocket " will not be out of place : The boiler was
6 feet long, 3 feet 4 inches in diaraeter, and was furnished with 25 copper tubes
3 inches in diameter. The fire-box was at the rear end of the boiler, 2 feet wide
and 3 feet high, surrounded by water. The cylinders vvere high on the sides,
pointing down to the forward wheels, which were the only drivers. Stephenson
had used coupling rods between two sets of " drivers," but " The Rocket " was
made for speed chiefly. Its weight when furnished vvith water was only four
and a half tons ! On trial at Killingworth "The Rocket " worked finely and its
capacity for steara was marvellous. Tt was sent by wagon to Carlisle and by
boat to Liverpool.
On the day set for the trial there were four engines on hand : i. The " Nov
elty," built by young Ericsson, who afterward in New York built the famous
* It is said that a prominent man of Liverpool declared that "only a parcel of charlatans would ever
have issued such a set of conditions ; that it had been proved to be impossible to make a locomotive go
ten miles per hour." He added that, " if it ever was done, he would eat a stewed engine-wheel for break
fast. "

GEORGE STEPHENSON 295
" Moniton" 2. The " Sanspareil," by Tiraothy Plackworth. 3. The " Perse
verance," by a Mn Burstall. 4. " The Rocket," by Stephenson and Booth.
The prograrame of test fixed by the judges was to run over a level piece of
the road at Rainhill, two miles long, forty times during a day, at a rate not less
than ten miles per hour. The train was to weigh three and one-third times as
much as the locomotive. Each engine was to have a day for trial.
The " Perseverance " proved slow ; its best speed was not more than six miles
per hour ; so it was quickly withdrawn.
The " Sanspareil " was made by one of Stephenson's own foremen, and dif
fered little frora the Killingworth style of locoraotive. It was rather over weight,
but it ran at times as fast as fourteen miles per hour. Its machinery was defec
tive, however, and it was ruled out by the judges.
The " Novelty " ran at times in good style, but its bellows, for making a fire-
blast, were defective and repeatedly gave out, causing delay. It failed to raake
the required speed with a full load ; by itself it is said to have run at the rate of
twenty-eight miles per hour. Ericsson claimed that he had not had time to
properly construct his locoraotive, and the claira was probably just. As it was,
the time was extended six days.
The day assigned for " The Rocket " was the third day, but when on the sec
ond day all other engines failed, it was brought out to entertain the spectators.
Attaching it to a coach full of passengers, Stephenson ran over the line at a rate
reaching thirty miles per hour, to the amazeraent of all.
The next morning " The Rocket " was subjected to the regular test Its as
signed load was thirteen and a half tons, which it drew back and forth over the
two-mile track the full stent of forty times, making a spurt at times as high as
twenty-nine miles, about three times what had been declared possible by the
judges ! Finally, to show how fast the engine could go and still keep the track,
Mr. Stephenson ran it alone at the astonishing rate of thirty-five miles per houn
Thus did " The Rocket " surpass all records and all expectations. The enthu
siasm of every one was unbounded. All doubts were removed and Stephenson's
opponents in the company became his ardent friends. His judgment seemed
infallible, and his word was law.
This victory at Rainhill completed the triumph of the Liverpool and Manches
ter Railway. The road was opened the following year, 1830, vvith most irapos
ing ceremonies. Members of Parliament, lords and ladies, and even the great
Duke of Wellington, honored the occasion by their presence, and rode on the
excursion trains.
The story of George Stephenson's great work is told. His railroad and his
locomotive had come together, and to stay. All opposition was crushed, and no
sooner was one road in successful operation than another, sometimes several,
were on foot. George and Robert Stephenson were in demand everywhere, and
their locoraotive works were full of orders. In twenty years England had nearly
ten thousand miles of railways.
The spectacle of these two men, father and son, working together as equals

296 WORKMEN AND HEROES
was one often admired. Both became wealthy and full of honon Titled men
were proud to pay their respects to George Stephenson, and when he died, in
1848, at the age of sixty-seven, the whole nation rose up to do him honon
Though probably Stephenson had never heard of Emerson, Emerson had
heard of Stephenson, and he called upon him on his visit to England. After
ward Emerson said that " it was worth crossing the Atlantic to have seen Ste
phenson alone ; he had such native force of character and vigor of intellect"
What a contrast that meeting offers ! There face to face stood two men, two
great philosophers, both of whora have broadly and deeply influenced mankind —
one by deeds, the other by words. One wielded the pen, giving us noble, beau
tiful and inspiring thoughts, profoundly analyzing life and character ; the other
wielded those cunning tools with which man subdues nature and harnesses its
forces to do his will. He wrote not for the pages of a book, but on lines of
steel with a stylus that conquered time and space, bringing distant cities into com
panionship. I look up to each with an equal reverence. Each achieved the con
quest of mind over raatter, and each exhibited the exceeding manliness of a noble
life and eharacter.
There is no space with which to speak of Stephenson's safety-lamp, nor of the
influence his life and character have had on the brain and brawn of working Eng
land. If my reader is interested to know him raore and better, let him consult
the nearest library.
One word about "The Rocket" and this brief sketch is done. For some
years "The Rocket" did service on the Liverpool and Manchester road, but
it soon proved too light for the heavy traffic, and was sold to a coal company
in the North, where for years it faithfully hauled coal-cars from the raines.
But even there it was superseded, and in conterapt consigned to the back
yard. It was still fleet, but not strong. In that dreary back-yard among use
less luraber, the once peerless " Rocket " spent a season or two in rain and
snow and sunny weather, when George Stephenson bought it back and put it in
his cabinet at the Newcastle works. After Stephenson's death the precious relic
was placed in the British Museura in London.
"The Rocket" itself was exhibited a few years ago at the Railway Exposi
tion in Chicago, and an exact copy of it was shown at the recent World's Fain

SAMUEL F. B. MORSE

297

SAMUEL F. B. MORSE
(1791-1872)

S'

^AMUEL FixLEv Breese Morse, artist and inventor,
was born at the foot 6f Breed's Hill, Charlestown,
Mass., on April 27, 1791. His father was the Rev.
Jedediah Morse, D.D., the author of Morse's "Geog
raphy." At the age of fourteen Samuel Morse entered
Yale College ; under the instruction of Professors Day
and Silliman he received the first impulse toward those
electrical studies with which his narae is mainly identi
fied. In 181 1 Morse, whose tastes during his early years
led him more strongly toward art than toward science,
became the pupil of Washington Allston, then the great
est of American artists, and accompanied his master to England, where he re
mained four years. His success at this period was considerable ; but on his re
turn to Araerica, in 18 15, he failed tb obtain coraraissions for historical paintings,
and after working on portraits for two years at Charleston, S. C, he removed first
to Washington and afterward to Albany, finally settling in New York. In 1823
he laid the foundations of the National Academy of Design, aild was elected its
first president, an office vvhich he filled until 1845. The year 1827 marks the re
vival of Morse's interest in electricity. It was at this time that he learned from
Professor J. F. Dana, of Columbia College, the elementary facts of electro-mag-
netisra. As yet, however, he was devoted to his art, and in 1829 he again went
to Europe to study the old raasters.
The year of his return, 1832, may be said to close the period of his artistic,
and to open that of his scientific, life. On board the packet-ship Sully, which
sailed from Havre, October i, 1832, while discussing one day vvith his fellow-
passengers the properties of the electro-raagnet, he vvas led to reraark : " If the
presence of electricity can be made visible in any part of the circuit, I see no rea
son why intelligence may not be transmitted by electricity."
It was not a novel proposition, but the process of forraulating it started in
his mind a train of new and momentous ideas. The current of electricity, he
knew, would pass instantaneously any distance along a wire ; and if it were in
terrupted a spark would appear. It now occurred to him that the spark might
represent a part of speech, either a letter or a number ; the absence of the spark,
another part ; and the duration of its absence, or of the spark itself, a third ; so
that an alphabet might be easily formed, and words indicated. In a few days he
had completed rough drafts of the necessary apparatus, which he displayed to his
fellow-passengers. Five years later, the captain of the ship identified under oath

298 WORKMEN AND HEROES
Morse's completed instrument with that which Morse had explained on board the
Sully, in 1832.
During the twelve years that foUowed Morse was engaged in a painful strug
gle to perfect his invention and secure for it a proper presentation to the public.
The refusal of the Government to commission him to paint one of the great his
torical pictures in the rotunda of the Capitol, seemed to destroy all his old artis
tic ambition. In poverty he pursued his new enterprise, making his own raodels,
moulds, and castings, denying himself the common necessaries of life, and en
countering embarrassments and delays of the most disheartening kind. It was
not until 1836 that he completed any apparatus that would work, his original
idea having been suppleraented by his discovery, in 1835, of the "relay," by
raeans of which the electric current might be reinforced or renewed where it be
came weak through distance from its source. Finally, on September 2, 1837,
the instrurnent vvas exhibited to a few friends at his roora in the University build
ing, New York, where a circuit of 1,700 feet of copper wire had been set up,
with such satisfactory results as to awaken the practical interest of the Messrs.
Vail, iron and brass workers in New Jersey, who thenceforth became associated
with Morse in his undertaking.
Morse's petition for a patent was dated Septeraber 28, 1837, and was soon
foUowed by a petition to Congress for an appropriation to defray the expense of
subjecting the telegraph to actual experiraent over a length sufficient to establish
its feasibility and demonstrate its value. The Committee on Commerce, to whom
the petition was referred, reported favorably. Congress, however, adjourned
without making the appropriation, and meanwhile Morse sailed for Europe to
take out patents there. The trip was not a success. In England his application
was refused, on the alleged ground that his invention had been already published ;
and while he obtained a patent in France, it vvas subsequently appropriated by
the French Governraent without compensation to himself. His negotiations
also with Russia proved futile, and after a year's absence he returned to New
York. On February 23, 1843, Congress passed the long-delayed appropriation of
$30,000 ; and steps were at once taken to construct a telegraph frora Baltiraore
to Washington. On May 24, 1844, it was used for the first tirae, Mr. Morse
hiraself sending over the wires the first and ever- to -be -reraerabered message,
"What hath God wrought"
Morse's patents were already secured to hira and his associates, and compa
nies were soon formed for the erection of telegraph lines all over the United
States. In the year 1847 he was compelled to defend his invention in the courts,
and successfully vindicated his claims to be called the original inventor of the
electro-magnetic recording telegraph. Thenceforward Morse's life was spent in
witnessing the growth of his enterprise, and in gathering the honors vvhich an ap
preciative public bestowed upon him. As years went by he received from the
various foreign governments their highest distinctions, while in 1858 the repre
sentatives of Austria, Belgium, France, the Netherlands, Piedmont, Russia, the

FROM PMOTOGHAPH.

SAMUEL F B. MORSE, INVENTOR OF THE TELEGRAPH.

300 WORKMEN AND HEROES
ception of a short time passed in his youth in its vicinity, were spent by Mn
Cooper in the city of New York. It was little more than a country town when
he was born ; it was already one of the great cities of the world when he died ;
and in all that time he had been associated with the business enterprises that
had helped its growth, as one of the chief actors.
The fortune that he built up was both earned and expended here ; the man
ner of its earning was known of aU men, but the way in which it vvas expended
was rather felt than known, for, like all great and generous benefactors, Mn
Cooper was without ostentation ; but as he gave while he was alive and aU the
time that he was alive ; and as he gave to the people among whom he lived, and
not to outsiders, it naturally followed that his name, his person, his traits of char
acter, became, as it were, a common possession to the people of New York ; but
few men upon whom such a glare of publicity had fallen for so many years would
have been able to bear the scrutiny so well as Peter Coopen
He was born on February 12, 1791, presuraably in Little Dock Street, now
Water Street, Coenties Slip, where his father, John Cooper, carried on the trade
of a batten His shop was near the store of John Jacob Astor, frora whora he
bought the beaver-skins which he made up into hats. John Cooper had served
in the war of the Revolution, and when it ended, he retired with the rank of
lieutenant He married Margaret, the daughter of John Carapbell, who also had
served in the Continental army, as quartermaster, and who now carried on the
trade of potter and tile-raaker on the spot ¦where St. Paul's Chapel now stands.
To John and Margaret Cooper nine children were born, two daughters and
seven sons, of whom Peter was the fifth, and was named after the apostle in the be
lief, as his father expressed it, that he would come to something. Following the
fashion of the time, he was set to work at his father's trade as soon as he was old
enough to work, as all his brothers had been before him ; and in later years he de
scribed himself as a little boy, with his head just reaching the top of the table
where he was set to pulling out the hairs frora rabbit skins to use in making fur
hats ; and he was kept at the business until he was fifteen, when, as he used to
tell, he had learned to make every part of a hat. So independent is business suc
cess of what is coramonly called education, that it may be of interest to record
that Peter Cooper never went to school for raore than one year, and only in the
half of each day of school : his parents were poor, and could not spare what his
labor earned, and besides his health was delicate, and the confinement of school
vvas thought more injurious to him than the work in the shop. In consequence
of this restriction Peter Cooper grew to raanhood with very little learning be
yond reading, writing, and the rudiments of arithmetic, and while this vvas a
source of regret to him all his life, it was in reaUty the .spur that drove him to
found an institution that should take away all excuses for ignorance from the
coraing generations of poor boys in his native city.
The elder Cooper would seera to have been a man of small practical capacity
or staying power, for he moved about from place to place, changing his bu.si-
ness in the hope of bettering his condition ; now going to PeekskiU to set up a

PETER COOPER BOl
brewery ; thence to CatskUl, where he added brick-making to raaking beer ; then
to Brooklyn to try hatting again ; and finally to Newburgh, where he returned
to brewing. In all these shiftings of horae and business Peter remained with
his father and gave him what help he could ; he used in later life to recall his
carrying about the beer-kegs to his father's customers ; but at the age of seven
teen, with his parents' consent, he came back to New York, and looked about
for work on his own account. He had saved up frora his sraall earnings, while
with his father, the sura of ten dollars, and with this, he tells us, he bought a
lottery ticket, which drew a blank. This seeraing raisfortune he turned to
good account, for he then deterrained never to trust to luck again, but to be
content to earn his bread in the appointed way : it was his first and last specu
lation. On reaching New York he had the usual difficulty in finding employ
ment, but at length was accepted as an apprentice by a firra of carriage-raakers,
to whom, with his father's consent, he bound himself until he should corae of
age ; his masters agreeing to pay him $25 a year and his board. His grand
mother had a house on Broadway, in which she gave him the use of an upper
room, and here in his spare hours he employed hiraself in wood-carving, in which
he acquired some proficiency. In his business he worked so industriously, and
made himself so valuable to his employers, that when his time expired they
offered to lend hira the money to go into business for himself ; but he did not
accept this generous offer, as he was deterrained never to be in debt. While vvith
Messrs. Burtis and Woodward he had invented a machine for mortising wheel-
hubs, thus giving the first evidence of an inventive faculty which, though never
accomplishing great things, was often of considerable service both to himself and
the community. On leaving the business of carriage-making Peter Cooper went
to Hempstead, L. I., vvhere he found work in a woollen factory. Here he
invented and patented an iraprovement on the raachine in use for shearing the
nap of cloth ; and as during the war of, 181 2 all coraraerce with England ceased,
cloth-making in Araerica flourished, and from the sale of his machines, .which he
could hardly make fast enough to supply the deraand, young Cooper reaped a
considerable profit. One of his first customers was the late Matthew Vassar, of
Poughkeepsie, to whom he not only sold some of his machines, but also the right
to dispose of them in Dutchess County. When he found that his earnings had
enabled him to lay by the sura of $500, he thought hiraself justified in asking
a young woraan. Miss Sarah Bedel, whom he had met when in Hempstead, to
become his wife ; but before doing so, he determined to visit his parents in New
burgh, and inform them of his intention. He found thera in great trouble ; his
father in debt and needing help ; and without hesitation he placed his small sav
ings at his disposal, paid the most pressing of the debts, and made arrange
ments for paying off the rest. His father vvas thus saved from bankruptcy by
his son's devotion ; but the action was characteristic of Peter Cooper, both in
its unselfishness, and as indicative of his business integrity. He would never be
in debt hiraself, and he was equally resolved to keep those belonging ta him as
free as himself. He took pride in the fact that neither he nor his father had ever

302 WORKMEN AND HEROES
failed in business ; and this is the more remarkable, since in the course of his
business life, the country passed through no less than ten serious coramercial
panics. Peter Cooper and Miss Bedel were married on December 22, 181 3, when he
was twenty-two and the lady twenty-one. Their raarried life, as it was excep
tionally long, so it was exceptionally happy. It lasted fifty-six years ; Mrs.
Cooper died in 1869, and Mn Cooper survived her fourteen years, dying in
1883. Their golden wedding was celebrated in 1863. They had six children,
but only two lived to grow up ; the Hon. Edward Cooper, once mayor of the
city, and Sarah Araelia Cooper, the wife of the Hon. Abram S. Hewitt. Mn
James Parton says : "There never was a happier raarriage than this. To old age
Mr Cooper never sat near his wife without holding her hand in his. He never
spoke to her, nor of her, without some tender epithet. He attributed the great
happiness of his life and raost of his success to her adrairable qualities. She sec
onded every good impulse of his benevolence, and made the fulfilment of his
great scheme possible by her wise and resolute economy."
Mr. Cooper seems to have inherited something of his father's business rest
lessness, for in addition to the many pursuits in which we have seen him engage,
he now bought a grocery stand, and in about a year gave that up and purchased
a glue factory, selling his grocery business and buying a lease of the glue factory
for twenty-one years, for $2,000, his whole savings. He differed from his father
in this, that everything prospered with which he had to do. The grocery had
done well, but the glue factory did better. " At that tirae nearly all the glue
used in this country was imported from Ireland, and sold at a high price. Mr.
Cooper studied the subject and experimented, until he was able to make better
glue than the Irish and sell it at a lower price, and he soon had nearly the entire
glue business of the country in his hands." But chance had nothing to do vvith
Mr. Cooper's success : the secret of that success was unremitting industry and
generous economy. He worked that he might earn, and he saved that he might
use and give. For twenty years while he held the glue factory, he was his own
bookkeeper, clerk, and salesman ; going to the factory at daybreak to light the
fires, and spending the evenings at home, posting his books, writing, and read
ing to his family.
In 1828, moved by the interest in business circles in the completion of the
Baltiraore and Ohio Railroad, Mr. Cooper, with two partners, bought a tract of
three thousand acres within the city liraits of Baltimore. By the failure of his as
sociates to raeet the payment of their shares, Mn Cooper was obliged to shoulder
the whole cost, amounting to $105,000. The road, too, owing to unexpected dif
ficulties in construction, was dreading bankruptcy, from which it was saved bv
Mn Cooper's ingenuity in devising a locomotive that enabled the company to
overcorae certain difficulties that had been thought insurmountable. FaUing in
the end to sell his land as he had hoped, Mn Cooper decided to utilize the timber
growing on it in the manufacture of charcoal iron. When he had, after many
difficulties, established his works, he sold out to some Boston capitalists, who

PETER COOPER 303
formed the Canton Iron Company. Mn Cooper took a large part of the pur
chase in stock at $45 a share, which he finally sold out at $230 a share.
This was the beginning of his interest in the iron business, vvhere the greater
part of his fortune was made. The remainder came frora his glue works and the
industries connected with them. In 1873, the year of the great panic, in a letter
to President Grant suggesting remedial legislation, Mn Cooper said that not less
than a thousand persons depended for their bread on the business carried on in
the circle of his family. He had at that tirae two rolling-mUls running, and two
raiUs for the raanufacture of wire and springs ; and his glue, oil, and isinglass
works gave employment to two hundred persons.
The story of Mn Cooper's connection vvith the laying of the Atlantic cable
has been so often told, that we do not repeat it here. It adds further testimony
to his indomitable energy, his largeness of view, his financial ability, and the con
fidence that was felt in hira by his fellow-raen. The story of the difficulties, fail
ures and final success of this grandest achievement of raodern science and enter
prise, is as romantic as any episode in social history.
But, in Peter Cooper's view, the raost iraportant event in his life — the one to
which all his energies, his thoughts, his econoraics had been steadily directed since
his youth — was the founding of the institution that bears his name, and that has
made him a powerful factor in the development of New York. It was the out
come, in the first place, of its founder's regret for the deficiencies of his own early
training, which were owing partly to his parents' poverty and partly to the lack of
public or free schools in his native city when he was a boy. But this regret,
which could only have been felt by a man of superior intelligence, was made to
flower in this great result by Mr. Cooper's genuine, deep, and unfailing love for
his fellow-raen, and his belief in the duty of every man to help the race forward
in its progress to a better social condition. He has himself stated the principles
on which his life was founded. His aim was "to render sorae equivalent to so
ciety, in some useful form, of labor, for each day of his existence ; " and "while
he had always recognized that the object of business is to make money in an
honorable manner, he had endeavored to remember that the object of life is to
do good." In 1876 Mr. Cooper was nominated for the presidency by the National In
dependent or "Greenback" party. It was with no selfish ambition that he al
lowed his name to go before the voters of the country, and his only regret at the
result was that a policy was defeated which he believed to be for the public
good. Mr. Cooper died April 4, 1883, at the age of ninety-two, after a short illness,
the result of a cold. At his funeral, the late Dn Crosby said : " What an exam
ple has been set by this life to our young raen ! How it shows them what the true
aim of life should be ! What an example to our wealthy men to show that
money obtained by honest industry, and spent in benefiting mankind, will never
produce war between labor and capital, but will assuage all angry elements, and
give universal peace ! Oh ! if all our wealthy men were like Peter Cooper, all

304

WORKMEN AND HEROES

classes would be satisfied, all commotions cease, and the community would be as
near perfection — as near perfection in the pecuniary view — as it possibly could
be on earth." ^^ // ^o

LOUIS KOSSUTH
(i 802-1 894)

L'

ouis Kossuth was born at Monok, in Zemp-
lin, one of the northern counties of Hun
gary, April 21, 1802. His family was ancient,
but impoverished ; his father served in the Aus
trian array during the wars against Napoleon ;
his mother is represented to have been a woman
of extraordinary force of mind and character.
Kossuth thus adds another to the long list of
great raen who seem to have inherited their
genius frora their mothers. As a boy he ' was
remarkable for the winning gentleness of his dis
position, and for an earnest enthusiasm, which
gave proraise of future eminence, could he but
break the bonds iraposed by low birth and iron fortune. A young clergyman
was attracted by the character of the boy, and voluntarily took upon himself the
office of his tutor, and thus first opened before his mind visions of a broader
world than that of the raiserable village of his residence. But these serene days
of power expanding under genial guidance soon passed away. His father died,
his tutor was translated to another post, and the walls of his prison-house seemed
again to close upon the boy. But by the aid of raerabers of his family, them
selves in humble circumstances, he was enabled to attend such schools as the
district furnished. Little worth knowing was taught there ; but among that little
was the Latin language ; and through that door the young dreamer was intro
duced into the broad domains of history, where, abandoning the raean present,
he could range at will through the iramortal past
In tiraes of peace the law offers to an aspiring youth the readiest means of
ascent from a low degree to lofty stations. Kossuth, therefore, when just enter
ing upon manhood, made his way to Pesth, the capital, to study the legal pro
fession. Here he entered the office of a notary, and began gradually to make
himself known by his liberal opinions and the fervid eloquence with which he
set forth and maintained them ; and raen began to see in him the promise of a
powerful public writer, orator, and debaten

LOUIS KOSSUTH 305
The man and the hour were alike preparing. In 1825, the year before
Kossuth arrived at Pesth, the critical state of her Italian possessions compelled
Austria to provide extraordinary revenues. The Hungarian Diet vvas then as
sembled, after an interval of thirteen years. This Diet at once demanded certain
measures of reform before they vvould make the desired pecuniary grants. The
court was obliged to concede these demands. Kossuth, having completed his
legal studies, and finding no favorable opening in the capital, returned, in 1830,
to his native district, and commenced the practice of the law, with marked
success. He also began to make his way toward public Ufe by his assiduous
attendance and intelligent action in the local assemblies. A new Diet was as
serabled in 1832, and he received a commission as the representative in the Diet
of a magnate who was absent. As proxy for an absentee he was only charged,
by the Hungarian Constitution, with a very subordinate part, his functions being
more those of a counsel than of a delegate. This, however, was a post much
sought for by young and aspiring lawyers, as giving them an opportunity of
mastering legal forms, displaying their abilities, and forming advantageous con
nections. This Diet renewed the Liberal struggle with increased vigor. By far the best
talent of Hungary was ranged upon the Liberal side. Kossuth early made him
self known as a debater, and gradually won his way upward, and becarae associ
ated with the leading raen of the Liberal party, many of whom were among the
proudest and richest of the Hungarian magnates. He soon undertook to pub
lish a report of the debates and proceedings of the Diet. This attempt was op
posed by the Palatine, and a law hunted up vvhich forbade the " printing and
publishing" of these reports. He, for a while, evaded the law by having his
sheet lithographed. It increased in its development of democratic tendencies,
and in popularity, until finally the lithographic press vvas seized by Government
Kossuth, determined not to be baffled, still issued his journal, every copy being
written out by scribes, of whora he employed a large number. To avoid seizure
at the post-office, they were circulated through the local authorities, who vvere
almost invariably on the Liberal side. His periodical penetrated into every part
of the kingdom, and raen saw with wonder a young and almost unknown public
writer boldly pitting hiraself against Metternich and the whole Austrian cab
inet. Kossuth raight well, at this period, declare that he " felt within hiraself
something nameless."
In the succeeding Diets the Opposition grew still raore determined. Kos
suth, though twice adraonished by Government, still continued his journal ; and
no longer confined himself to simple reports of the proceedings of the Diet, but
added political reraarks of the keenest satire and raost bitter denunciation. He
was aware that his course was a perilous one. He was once found by a friend
walking in deep reverie in the fortress of Buda, and in reply to a question as to
the subject of his meditations, he said, " I was looking at the casemates, for I
fear that I shall soon be quartered there." Government finally determined to
use ai'o-uments more cogent than discussion could furnish. Baron Wesselenyi,
20

306 WORKMEN AND HEROES
the leader of the Liberal party, was arrested, together with a number of his ad
herents, among whom Kossuth was of too rauch note to be overlooked.
Kossuth becarae at once sanctified in the popular mind as a martyr. Liberal
subscriptions were raised through the country for the benefit of his raother and
sisters, whom he had supported by his exertions, and who were now left without
protection. Wesselenyi becarae blind in prison ; Lovassi, an intimate friend of
Kossuth, lost his reason ; and Kossuth hiraself, as was. certified by his physicians,
was in irarainent risk of falling a victim to a serious disease. The rigor of his
confinement was mitigated ; he was allowed books, newspapers, and writing
materials, and suffered to walk daily upon the bastions of the fortress, in charge
of an officer. Among those who were inspired with adrairation for his po
litical efforts, and with syrapathy for his fate, was Teresa Mezlenyi, the young
daughter of a nobleman. She sent him books, and corresponded with him
during his imprisonraent ; and they were married in 1841, soon after his libera
tion. In the second year of Kossuth's imprisonraent Austria again needed Hun
garian assistance. The threatening aspect of affairs in the East, growing out of
the relations between Turkey and Egypt, deterrained all the great powers to in
crease their armaments. A demand was made upon the Hungarian Diet for an
additional levy of 18,000 troops. A large body of delegates vvas chosen pledged
to oppose this grant except upon condition of certain concessions, among which
was a general amnesty, with a special reference to the cases of Wesselenyi and
Kossuth. The more sagacious of the Conservative party advised Government to
liberate all the prisoners, with the exception of Kossuth ; and to do this before
the meeting of the Diet, in order that their liberation might not be made a condi
tion of granting the levy, which must be the occasion of great excitement The
cabinet temporized and did nothing. The Diet was opened, and the contest
was waged during six months. The Opposition had a majority of two in the
Charaber of Deputies, but were in a meagre minority in the Charaber of Mag
nates. But Metternich and the cabinet grew alarmed at the struggle, and were
eager to obtain the grant of raen, and to close the refractory Diet In 1840 a
royal rescript suddenly made its appearance, granting the amnesty, accorapanied
also with conciliatory remarks, and the demands of the Government for men and
money were at once complied with.
Kossuth issued from prison, in 1840, bearing in his debilitated frarae, his pal
lid face, and glassy eyes, traces of severe sufferings, both of raind and body. He
repaired for a tirae to a watering-place among the mountains to recruit his shat
tered health. Plis imprisonraent had done more for his influence than he could
have effected if at liberty. The visitors at the watering-place treated with silent
respect the man who moved about among them in dressing-gown and slippers,
and whose slow steps, and languid features, disfigured wathvellovv spots, pro
claimed hira an invalid. Abundant subscriptions had been made for his benefit
and that of his family, and he now stood on an equality vvith the proudest mag
nates. These had so often used the name of the " Martyr of the Liberty of the

LOUIS KOSSUTH 307
Press," in pointing their speeches, that they now had no choice but to accept the
popular verdict as their own.
Soon after his liberation, Kossuth carae forward as the principal editor of the
Pesth Gazette {Pesthi Hirlap), which a bookseller who enjoyed the protection
of the Government had received permission to establish. The name of the edi
tor was now sufficient to electrify the country ; and Kossuth at once stood forth
as the advocate of the rights of the lower and middle classes against the inordi
nate privileges and immunities enjoyed by the magnates. But when he went to
the extent of demanding that the house-tax should be paid by all classes in the
community, not even excepting the- highest nobility, a party was raised up against
him among the nobles, who estabUshed a paper to corabat so disorganizing a
doctrine. This party, backed by the influence of the Governraent, succeeded in
defeating the election of Kossuth as member from Pesth for the Diet of 1843.
He was, however, very active in the local asserably of the capital.
Kossuth was not altogether without support among the higher nobles. The
blind old Wesselenyi traversed the country, advocating rural freedom and the
abolition of the urbarial burdens. Araong his supporters at this period, also, was
Count Louis Batthyanyi, one of the raost considerable of the Magyar magnates,
subsequently President of the Hungarian Ministry, and the raost illustrious mar
tyr of the Hungarian cause. Aided by his powerful support, Kossuth was again
brought forward, in 1847, as one of the two candidates from Pesth. The Gov
ernment party, aware that they were in a decided minority, limited their efforts
to an attempt to defeat the election of Kossuth. This they endeavored to effect
by stratagem, but failed utterly.
Kossuth no sooner took his seat in the Diet than the foremost place was at
once conceded to him. At the opening of the session he moved an address to the
king, concluding with the petition that "liberal institutions, similar to those of
the Hungarian Constitution, might be accorded to all the hereditary states, that
thus might be created a united Austrian monarchy, based upon broad and consti
tutional principles." During the early' months of the session Kossuth showed
himself a most accomplished .parliamentary orator and debater ; and carried on
a series of attacks upon the policy of the Austrian cabinet, which for. skill and
power have few pyrallels in the annals of parliamentary warfare. Those form
a very inadequate conception of its scope and power, whose ideas of the elo
quence of Kossuth are derived solely from the impassioned and exclamatory
harangues which he flung out during the war. These were addressed to men
wrought up to the utmost tension, and can be judged fairly only by men in a
state of high excitement He adapted his matter and manner to the occasion
and the audience. Sorae of his speeches are raarked bv a stringency of logic
worthy of Webster or Calhoun ; but it vvas what all eloquence of a high order
must ever be — "logic red-hot"
Now came the French Revolution of February, 1848. The news of it reached
Vienna on March ist, and vvas received at Presburg on the 2d. On the follow-
in?- day Kossuth delivered his famous speech on the finances and the state of the

308 WORKMEN AND HEROES
monarchy generally, concluding with a proposed "Address to the Throne," urging
a series of reformatory measures. Among the foreraost of these was the eraan-
cipation of the country from feudal burdens — the proprietors of the soil to be
indemnified by the state ; equalizing taxation ; a faithful adrainistration of the
revenue to be satisfactorily guaranteed ; the further development of the repre
sentative systera ; and the establishment of a government representing the voice
of, and responsible to, the nation. The speech produced an effect alraost without
parallel in the annals of debate. Not a word was uttered in reply, and the motion
was unanimously carried. On March 13th took place the revolution in Vienna
which overthrew the Metternich cabinet On the 15th the constitution granted
by the emperor to all the nations within the erapire was soleranly proclaimed amid
the wildest transports of joy. Henceforth there were to be no more Germans or
Sclavonians, Magyars or Italians ; strangers embraced and kissed each other in the
streets, for all the heterogeneous races of the empire were now brothers : as like
wise were all the nations of the earth at Anacharsis Klootz's " Feast of Pikes " in
Paris on that 14th day of July in the year of grace 1790 — and yet, notwithstand
ing, came the " Reign of Terror."
Among the deraands raade by the Hungarian Diet was that of a separate and
responsible ministry for Hungary. The Palatine, Archduke Stephen, to whom
the conduct of affairs in Hungary had been intrusted, persuaded the emperor to
accede to this demand, and on the following day Batthyanyi, who, with Kossuth
and a deputation of delegates of the Diet was in Vienna, was named President
of the Hungarian rainistry. It was, however, understood that Kossuth was the
life and soul of 4;he new ministry.
Kossuth assumed the Department of Finance, then, as long before and now,
the po.st of difficulty under Austrian administration. The Diet, raeanwhile, went
on to consummate the series of reforms which Kossuth had so long and stead
fastly advocated.
Up to this tirae there had been, indeed, a vigorous and decided opposition,
but no insurreclion. The true cause of the Hungarian war was the hostility of
the Austrian Government to the whole series of reformatory raeasures which had
been effected through the instrumentality of Kossuth ; but its immediate occasion
was the jealousy which sprung up among the Servian and Croatian dependencies
of Hungary against the Hungarian ministry. This soon broke out into an open
revok, headed by Baron Jellachich, who had just been appointed Ban, or Lord,
of Croatia. How far the Serbs and Croats had occasion for jealou.sy is of little
consequence to our present purpose to inquire ; though vve may say, in passing,
that the proceedings of the Magyars toward the other Hungarian races was
marked by a far more just and generous feeling and conduct than could have
been possibly expected. But however the case may have been, as between the
Magyars and Croats, as between the Hungarians and Austria, the hostile course
of the latter is without excuse or palliation. The emperor had solemnly sanc
tioned the action of the Diet, and did as solemnly denounce the proceedings of
Jellachich. On May 29th the Ban was summoned to present hiraself at Inns-

LOUIS KOSSUTH 309
priick to answer for his conduct, and as he did not make his appearance, an im
perial manifesto was issued on June loth depriving him of all his dignities, and
commanding the authorities at once to break off all intercourse with him. He,
however, still continued his operations, and levied an array for the invasion of
Hungary, and a fierce and bloody war of races broke out, marked on both sides
by the most fearful atrocities.
The Hungarian Diet was opened on July 5th, when the Palatine, Archduke
Stephen, in the name of the king, solemnly denounced the conduct of the insurgent
Croats. A fevv days after, Kossuth, in a speech in the Diet, set forth the perilous
state of affairs, and concluded by asking for authority to raise an army of 200,000
men, and a large amount of money. These proposals were adopted by acclama
tion, the enthusiasm in the Diet rendering any debate impossible and superfluous.
The Imperial forces having been victorious in Italy, and one pressing danger
being thus averted frora the erapire, the Austrian cabinet began openly to dis
play its hostility to the Hungarian movement Jellachich repaired to Innspruck,
and was openly acknowledged by the court, and the decree of deposition was re
voked. Early in September Hungary and Austria stood in an attitude of undis
guised hostility. On the 5th of that month Kossuth, though enfeebled by illness,
was carried to the hall of the Diet, where he delivered a speech, declaring that so
forraidable were the dangers that surrounded the nation, that the rainisters raight
soon be forced to call upon the Diet to name a dictator, clothed with unlimited
powers, to save the country ; but before taking this final step they would recom
mend a last appeal to the Iraperial Government. A large deputation was there
upon despatched to the emperor, to lay before him the demands of the Hunga
rian nation. No satisfactory answer was returned, and the deputation left the
iraperial presence in silence. On their return they plucked from their caps the
plumes of the united colors of Austria and Hungary, and replaced thera with red
feathers, and hoisted a flag of the same color on the steamer which conveyed
thera to Pesth. Their report produced the most intense agitation in the Diet
and at the capital, but it vvas finally resolved to make one raore attempt for a
pacific settleraent of the question. In order that no obstacle raight be inter
posed by their presence, Kossuth and his colleagues resigned, and a new ministry
was appointed. A deputation was sent to the National Assembly at Vienna,
which refused to receive it Jellachich had in the meantime entered Hungary
with a large army, not as yet, however, openly sanctioned by imperial authority.
The Diet, seeing the imminent peril of the country, conferred dictatorial powers
upon Kossuth. The Palatine resigned his post and left the kingdom. The em
peror appointed Count Lemberg to take the entire command of the Hungarian
army. The Diet declared the appointraent illegal, and the count, arriving at
Pesth without escort, was slain in the streets of the capital by the populace, in a
sudden outbreak. The eraperor forthwith placed the kingdom under martial
law, giving the supreme civil and military power to Jellachich. The Diet at once
revolted, declared itself permanent, and appointed Kossuth Governor, and Presi
dent of the Committee of Safety.

310 WORKMEN AND HEROES
There was now but one course left for the Hungarians : to maintain by force
of arms the position they had assumed. We cannot detail the events of the war
which followed, but mere'ly touch upon the most salient points. Jellachich was
speedily driven out of Hungary toward Vienna. In October the Austrian
forces were concentrated, under coraraand of Windischgratz, to the nuraber of
120,000 veterans, and were put on the raarch for Hungary. To oppose thera
the only forces under the command of the new government of Hungary were
20,000 regular infantry, 7,000 cavalry, and 14,000 recruits, who received the
name of Honveds, or "protectors of horae." Of all the movements that fol
lowed, Kossuth vvas the soul and chief. His burning and passionate appeals
stirred up the souls of the peasants, and sent thera by thousands to the camp.
He kindled enthusiasra, he organized that enthusiasm, and transformed those
raw recruits into soldiers more than a match for the veteran troops of Austria.
Though hiraself not a soldier, he discovered and drew about hira- soldiers and
generals of a high orden The result was that Windischgratz was driven back
frora Hungary, and of the 120,000 troops which he led into that kingdom in
October, one-half were killed, disabled, or taken prisoners at the end of April.
The state of the war on May ist may be gathered frora the imperial manifesto
of that date, which announced that " the insurrection in Hungary had grown to
such an extent " that the Imperial Government " had been induced to appeal
to the assistance of his majesty the Czar of all the Russias, who generously and
readily granted it to a most satisfactory extent." The issue of the contest could
no longer be doubtful when the immense weight of Russia was thrown into the
scale. In modern warfare there is a limit beyond which devotion and enthu
siasm cannot supply the place of numbers and material force And that Umit
was overpassed when Russia and Austria were pitted against Hungary.
On May ist the Russian intervention was announced. On August nth
Kossuth resigned his dictatorship into the hands of Gorgey, who, two days after,
in effect closed the war by surrendering to the Russians.
The Hungarian war thus lasted a little raore than eleven months, during
which time there was but one ruling and directing spirit, and that was Kossuth,
to whose iramediate career we now return.
Nothing reraained for hira and his corapanions but flight They gained the
Turkish frontier, and threw themselves on the hospitality of the sultan, vvho
proraised them a safe asylum. Russia and Austria deraanded that the fugitives
should be given up ; but being supported by France and England, the sultan ar
ranged a corapromise by which they were detained in Asia Minor as prisoners.
Kossuth was released in 1851, and made a tour of the United States, agitating in
favor of Hungary. He never returned to his native land, but lived an exile for
over forty yeans. For a vvhile he struggled desperately to help the Hungarians ;
then, finding that the universal progress of liberal ideas was doing more for them
than he ever could, he resigned himself to a peaceful life devoted to literature and
science. ITe died at Turin, March 20, 1894, reverenced by all the vvorld, and
raourned by his countrymen vvith tumultuous demonstrations as their national hero.

JOHN ERICSSON

311

Kossuth occupies a position pecuharly his own, whether we regard the cir
cumstances of his rise, or the feelings vvhich have followed hira in his fall. Born
in the middle ranks of life, he raised himself by sheer force of intellect to the
loftiest place among the proudest nobles on earth, without ever deserting or
being deserted by the class from which he sprung. He effected a sweeping
reform without appealing to any sordid or sanguinary motive. No soldier him
self, he transformed a country into a camp, and a nation into an army. He
transrauted his words into batteries, and his thoughts into soldiers. Without
ever having looked upon a stricken field, he organized the most complete system
of resistance to despotism that the history of revolutions has furnished. It
failed, but only failed where nothing could have succeeded.

I

JOHN ERICSSON*
By Martha J. Lamb
( I 803-1 889) vT a message, referring
to the relations of our
country with the several
nations of Europe, Presi
dent Harrison said : " The
restoration of the remains
of John Ericsson to Swe
den afforded a gratifying
occasion to honor the
memory of the great in
ventor, to whose genius
our country owes so much,
and to bear witness to
the unbroken friendship
which has existed between
the land which bore hira
and our own, which
claimed him as a citizen."
This paragraph is a for
cible reminder of the im
pressive ceremonial wit
nessed in the streets and
 " _ ^ harbor of New York City,
on Saturday, August 23, 1890. It had been intiraated to this Government, as
is well known, that the Government of Sweden vvould regard it as a graceful act
* Reprinted, by permission, from the Magazine of American History.

312 WORKMEN AND HEROES
if the reraains of Captain John Ericsson should be conveyed to his native coun
try upon a United States raan-of-war ; and arrangements having been completed,
the Baltimore was assigned to the service. ' In committing the illustrious dead to
the care of the commander of the Baltimore, Mn George H. Robinson said :
" We send him back crowned with honor, proud of the life of fifty years he de
voted to this nation, and with gratitude for his gifts to us."
John Ericsson's birthplace in Sweden is marked by a large granite monument
erected in 1867. His father was a mining proprietor, and his mother an ener
getic, intellectual, and high-spirited woman. His brother. Nils, one year older
than himself, was trained as an engineer, becarae chief of the construction of the
systera of government railways in Sweden, was created a baron, and retired in
1862 with a pension larger than any .before bestowed upon a Swedish subject
His sister Caroline, born in 1800, was a girl of unusual beauty. As a boy John
was the wonder of the neighborhood. The machinery at the mines was to him
an endless source of curiosity and delight. He was constantly trying to make
models, even before he had learned to read. He had frora his own plans con
structed a rainiature saw-mUl prior to his tenth birthday, and made nuraerous
drawings of a coraplicated characten The graphic account of his youth and early
manhood which his biographer presents is full of suggestion and instruction.
The boy was too much occupied vvith his contrivances to join in the pastimes of
other children. His opportunities were unusually stimulating. The project of
the Gota Canal Company, one of the raost forraidable undertakings of its kind,
was revived when he was about ten years old, his father being appointed one of
its engineers, holding place next to that of the chief of the work. This opened a
new world of ideas, and the Uttle fellow undertook all raanner of scheraes. He
was independent of outside assistance. Steel tweezers, borrowed frora his moth
er's dressing-case and ground to a point, furnished hira with a drawing pen, and
his corapasses were made of birch-wood with needles inserted at the end of the
legs. Later on, he robbed his mother's sable cloak of the hairs required for tvv^o
small brushes, in order to complete his drawings in appropriate colors. The
clever lad attracted the notice of some of the greatest mechanical draughtsmen
in Sweden, who made hira drawings to serve as models, and taught him many of
the principles of the art Finally the celebrated engineer. Count Platen, becom
ing interested, appointed him a cadet in the corps of raechanical engineers ; and
such was his progress in sketching profiles, maps, and drawings for the archives
of the canal company, that in 18 16, at the age of thirteen, he was made assistant
leveller at the station of Riddarhagen. The next year he was employed to set
out the work for six hundred operatives, though he was yet top small to reach
the eye-piece of his levelling instrument without the aid of a stool carried
by an attendant. Thus it will be seen that he was identified almost frora his cra
dle with great engineering works. His father died in 18 18, and in 1820, when
seventeen, he entered the Swedish army as an ensign and was rapidly proraoted
to a lieutenancy.
The skill of young Ericsson in topographical drawing was so marked that he

JOHN ERICSSON 313
was soon summoned to the royal palace to draw maps to illustrate the campaigns
of the marshal of the empire. He also passed with distinction a competitive
examination for an appointment on the survey of Northern Sweden. This new
employment was exacting, and the pay determined by the amount of work accom
plished. Mn Chureh says : "The young surveyor from the Gota Canal was so
indefatigable in his industry and so rapid in execution, that he performed double
duty and was carried on the pay-roll as two persons in order to avoid criticism
and charges of favoritism. The results of his labors were maps of fifty square
miles of territory, still preserved in the archives of Stockholm."
At the age of tvventy-one John Ericsson is described as "a handsorae, dashing
youth, with a cluster of thick, brown, glossy curls encircling his white, massive
forehead. His mouth was delicate but firm, nose straight, eyes light blue, clear
and bright, with a slight expression of sadness, his complexion brilUant with the
freshness and glow of healthy youth. The broad shoulders carried most splen
didly the proud, erect head. He presented, in short, the very picture of vigorous
manhood. A portrait of him at this age, painted upon ivory for his raother by
an English artist naraed Way, has been preserved."
Fifteen years later he was in New York, and is thus described by Samuel
Risley : "Captain Ericsson all his life was careful of his personal appearance ; at
the time I refer to (1839) he was exceptional in dress, not dandified, but more
in keeping with the present morning-call attire than an ordinary day habit. .V
close-fitting black frock surtout coat, well open at the front, vvith rolling collar,
showing velvet vest and a good display of shirt-front ; a fine gold chain hung
about his neck, looped at the first button-hole of the vest and attached to a watch
carried in the fob of the vest Usually light-colored, well-fitting trousers, light-
colored kid gloves, and a beaver hat corapleted the dress. To this add a well-
built railitary figure, about five feet ten and one-half inches in height and vvell
set-up, vvith broad shoulders and rather large hands and feet ; the head well
placed and supported by a militar)- stock round the neck. Mxpressive features,
blue eyes, and brown curly hair, fair complexion. His head was of medium size,
his mouth well cut, upper lip a little drawn, the jaws large and firm set, convev-
ing an expression of firmness and individual characten Up to the summer of
1842 I was in constant attendance upon the captain, being a sort of factotum to
him in preparing his models. At that time he boarded at the Astor House,
where I first met his vvife. His manner with strangers was courteous and ex
tremely taking. He invariably made friends of high and low alike. \\'ith those
in immediate contact in carrying out his work he vvas verv populan"
Mn Church, in his biographv, dexotes three chapters to a delightfully con
densed account of Ericsson's career in England, whither he vvent in 1826 to ex
hibit his flame-engine. He quieklv formed a partnership vvith John Braithwaitt-,
a working engineer, and in his new field of activity produced invention after
invention in such rapid succession that the truth reads like a fairy talc An in
strument for taking sea-soundings, a h\'drostatic weighing-machiiK.', his improve
ments in the sleam-tMiiiine — dispensing vvith huge smoke-slacks, economizing

314 WORKMEN AND HEROES
fuel, using compressed air and the artific'ial draught — and in surface condensation,
were the work of this period, during vvhich he also invented the steara fire-engine,
which excited great interest in London. The famous battle of the locoraotives
in 1829 brought the young man of twenty-six before the English public in a
manner never to be forgotten. At that date Stephenson himself dared not say
very much about the speed of the locomotive. Had he ventured to predict that
it would reach twenty miles an hour on the railway, he would have been laughed
out of court. He cautiously expressed his faith in the possibility of running it
ten miles an hour, and multitudes regarded the experiment with consternation.
There was great prejudice then existing in England against railroads. It was a
mode of conveyance that would bring noble and peasant to a common level, and
fashion clung tenaciously to its earlier inconveniences, which had at least the
merit of being exclusive.
But in spite of the baleful prophecies concerning the locomotiv^e engine, the
officials of the projected railroad between Liverpool and Manchester, where the
cars were expected to be drawn by horses, offered a premium of ^500 for
the best locomotive capable of drawing a gross weight of twent}" tons at the rate
of ten miles an hour. The conditions required a run of seventy railes. Fiv^e
months were allowed for building the engines. Ericsson heard of the project
only seven weeks before the appointed time of trial, and at once determined to
corapete. He hastily built the " Novelty," assisted by Braithwaite, and when
the exhibition came off his was practically the only locomotive which disputed
for the supremacy vvith Stephenson's " Rocket." But a portion of the raUroad
had yet been finished ; thus the competing locoraotives were compelled to cover
their distance by making twenty trips back and forth over one and three-quarter
miles of track. The excitement vvas intense. The London Times next mornins"
said: "The 'Novelty' was the lightest and most elegant carriage on the road
yesterdav, and the velocity vvith which it moved surprised and amazed every be
holden It shot along the line at the amazing rate of thirty railes an hour ! It
seemed, indeed, to fly ; presenting one of the most sublime spectacles of human
ingenuity and huraan daring the world ever beheld."
Ericsson had really built a much faster locoraotive than Stephenson's
" Rocket ; " and although it had been constructed with such celerity that it
broke down before the final point was reached, and he therebv lost the prize, yet
the superiority of the principle involved in it was universally recognized. John
Bourn said : " To most men the production of such an engine would have con
stituted an adequate claim to celebrity. In the case of Ericsson, it is only a sin
gle star of the brilliant galaxy with which his shield is spangled." " We may
imagine," writes Mn Church, " the excitement following the announcement in
the Times concerning the perforraance of the ' Novelty,' for to this engine Eng
land's great daily devoted chief attention. Railroad shares leaped at once to a
premium, and excited groups gathered on 'change to discuss the wonderful
event. The pessimists were silenced, and the art of modern railwav travel inau
gurated. A grand banquet was given in Liverpool to the directors and officers

JOHN ERICSSON 31-5
of the railway and to the competing locomotive builders. Toasts and speeches
followed ; and if Ericsson did not carry home with him the ^500 offered as a
prize, he at least made hiraself known to all England as one of the rising men of
his profession. Ericsson's long-cherished plan of a caloric engine was realized in 1833, and
was hailed vvith astonishment by the scientific world of London. Lectures were
delivered on it by Dn Dionysius Lardner and Michael Faraday, and it was much
praised by Dn Alexander Ure and Sir Richard Phillips. In 1836 Ericsson in
vented and patented the screw propeller, which revolutionized navigarion, and in
1837 built a steam vessel having twin screw propellers, which on trial towed the
American packet-ship Toronto at the rate of five miles an hour on the river
Thames. * In 1838 he constructed the iron screw stearaer Robert F. Stockton,
which crossed the Atlantic under canvas in 1839, and was afterward emploved as
a tug-boat on the Delaware River for a quarter of a century. Within ten years
Eries.son patented thirty inventions considered by him of sufficient importance to
claim a place in the list that in 1863 numbered one hundred.
A notable feature of the admirable work of Mn Church is the elucidation of
the truth, so often overlooked, that events never spring into being disjoined
from antecedents leading to them. He explains how the varied achievements of
John Ericsson were developed, showing with great force and in imperishable
colors the steps to his successes, and the help the famous engineer derived in
later life from the studies and experiments of his earlier careen Mn Church, as
the literary executor of Ericsson, has had unrivalled opportunities for examining
the accuraulation of data which throw light all along the way, and while dealing
with the raasterly engineering exploits of his subject, does not forget that he had
a human side, and presents him with all his hopes and fears and failures, his aims,
his obstacles, his courage, and his habits and eccentricities. Ericsson certainly
cherished a very high ideal, and was free to an unusual extent from mercenarv^
motives. His inventions did not always pay ; he found this a weary world for
those who see beyond their fellows. Sorae of his mechanical contrivances in
common use to-day dated so far back of the meraory of any one living that
before he died he often learned that he was supposed to have copied from others
what he, in fact, originated hiraself or first brought into use.
The barriers of tradition and prejudice had to be ov^ercome with his every new
invention. The introduction of steam in any shape to the English navy vvas
sharply opposed. It is interesting to trace the incidents, apparently without con
nection, vvhich stand in orderly relations one to another as essential parts of an
intelligent design. Ericsson was in America at the critical moment when all the
experiences of his previous life were to be brought into full play ; when he was
to take part in an enterprise involving the existence of a nation, the hopes of hu
manity. He vvas ready to meet the strain of a deraand to which no other living
man was adequate. He was then fifty-eight years of age, with the constitution
and the vital forces of a raan of forty, and such experience in actual accomplish
ment as fevv acquire in the longest span of a lifetime.

316 WORKMEN AND HEROES
When he receiv^ed the order of our Government for the Monitor his plans
were already drawn. He had been at work for years perfecting his system of
aquatic attack, originally designed for the protection of Sweden against foreign
ao-o-ression, and had in 1854 submitted his drawings to the Emperor of France.
The story of his proceedings in Washington is familiar to our readers, but in
these notable volumes of Mn Church it is told with a fulness of detail never
before attempted. The Monitor in all its parts was designed by Ericsson, and,
fortunately for the country, he was allowed to superintend its construction. His
former plans, however, had to be carefully revised to meet the novel conditions
of life in a submerged structure. It was estimated that this iron-clad vessel con
tained at least forty patentable contrivances. The entire resources of modern
engineering knowledge were brought to bear upon the solution, of the problem
of an impregnable battery, armed with guns of the heaviest calibre then known,
huU shot-proof from stem to 'stern, rudder and propeller protected against the
enemy's fire, and above all, having the advantage of light draught. Ericsson was
made responsible for the successful working of his vessel in every respect The
anxiety of the Government vvas such that every stage in the progress of the work
toward completion vvas watched with restless interest. Ericsson's nerves and
sinews seemed to be made of steel. He scarcely took time to eat or sleep, and
he was deluged with a continuous tempest of criticism, warning, and advice, from
those who knew nothing about the intricacies of science involved in the under
taking. The least halting, even trifling delay, confusion of mind, or weakness of
body, and the story of Hampton Roads might not have been written.
The Monitor was finished and left the harbor of New York for Washington
on the afternoon of March 6, 1862, in tow of a tug, and accompanied by two
naval steamers. Chief Engineer Alban S. Stimers, U. S. N., who was on the
vessel as a passenger, described in a letter, dated March 9, 1862, to Ericsson, the
dramatic incidents attending its arrival at Hampton Roads. " After a stormy
passage we fought the YIerrimac for more than three hours this forenoon, and
sent her back to Norfolk in a sinking condition. Iron-clad against iron-clad, we
manoeuvred about the bay here, and went at each other vvith mutual fairness. I
consider that both ships were well fought. We were struck twenty-two times —
pilot-house twice, turret nine times, deck three times, sides eiglit times. The
only vulnerable point was the pilot-house. One of your great logs (nine bv twelve
inches thick) is broken in two. The shot struck just outside of where the captain
had his eye, and disabled him by destroying his left eye and temporarily blinding
the othen She tried to run us down and sink us as she did the Cumberland ves-
terday, but she got the worst of it. Her horn passed over our deck, and our
sharp, upper-edged rail cut through the light iron shoe upon her stern and vvell
into hen oak. She will not try that again. She gave us a trememlous thump,
but did not injure us in the least ; we were just able to find the })oinl of contact.
The turret is a splendid structure. Vou were verv correct in vour eslimate of
the effect of shot upon the man on the inside of the turrel, when it struck near
him. Three men vvere knocked down, of whom 1 was one. The other two had

JOHN ERICSSON 317
to be carried below, but I was not disabled at all, and the others recovered before
the battle was over. Captain Worden (afterward admiral) stationed himself at
the pilot-house. Greene fired the guns, and I turned the turret until the captain
was disabled and was relieved by Greene, when I managed the turret myself.
Master Stoddard having been one of the two stunned men.
" Captain Ericsson, I congratulate you upon your great success ; thousands
here this day bless you. I have heard whole crews cheer you ; every man feels
that you have saved the nation by furnishing us wdth the means to whip an iron
clad frigate that was, until our arrival, having it all her own way with our most
powerful vessels."
If space permitted, it would be interesting to trace the career of Ericsson in
detail after the success of the Monitor. There was an imperative demand for
armor-clads, and ere long several were built by the inventor and his associates.
Ericsson vvas never idle. In connection with his labors upon war vessels he ex
pended no small amount of ingenuity on the improvement of heavy guns, his
efforts in this field being directed by a most exhaustive study into the strength
of materials, the operation of explosive forces, and the laws governing the flight
of projectiles. In 1869 he constructed for the Spanish Government a fleet of
thirty steam gunboats, intended to guard Cuba against filibustering parties. In
1 88 1 he devised his latest vvar vessel, the Destroyer, the object of which he said
was " simply to demonstrate the practicability of submarine artillery, unques
tionably the most effective, as well as the cheapest, device for protecting the sea
ports of the Union against iron-clad ships. I do not," he continued, "seek
emoluments, as I am financially independent ; but I am anxious to benefit the
great and liberal country which has enabled me to carry out important works
which I should not have carried out on a monarchical soil." His investigations
included computations of the influences which retard the earth's rotary motion ;
he erected a " sun motor" in 1883, to develop the power obtained from the sup
ply of mechanical energy in the sun, and he contributed numerous valuable pa
pers to various journals in America and Europe on scientific, naval, and mechani
cal themes. The year in which John Ericsson reached the culmination of his fame, 1862,
was 'the same in which his brother Nils retired from active life in Sweden. The
latter had retained his position on the Gota Canal when his brother left it in 1820,
and gradually won his way to fame and fortune. "He was a man of industry
and energy, of sterling integrity and public spirit, and an excellent organizer ;
while his conservative and cautious temperament and his skill in bending others
to his purposes enabled hira to make the most of his opportunities." After he
received his title he altered the spelling of his name and became Baron Ericson.
This change gave great offence to John, who wrote to Nils : "I can never feir-
get the unpleasantness caused me by this annulling of relationship. Possibly
your wife has had her share in it. If so, she wiU find some day that the blotted-
out letter will cost her children half a million."
Some of the most interesting chapters in the work of Mn Church relate to

318 WORKMEN AND HEROES
the personal characteristics of John Ericsson. He was generous to his friends,
and his benefactions to Sweden were considerable. The financial side of his af
fairs from year to year appears, as vvell as the record of his failures and successes.
It is difficult to grasp the whole man and present hira to the reader in all his
many-sided aspects, or to touch upon the variety of his studies, endeavors, schemes,
and achievements, without danger of bewilderment. His biographer has done
all this, however, in the most skilful and acceptable manner.
A list of the honors conferred upon Ericsson would fill one of our pages, and
some of the medals received were very beautiful. He was decorated as Knight
of the Order of Vasa, vvhich was founded by Gustavus III. to reward important
service to the nation ; he was made Knight Commander of the Order of the
North Star, for promoting the public good and useful institutions ; a Coraraander
of the Order of St. Olaf, to reward distinction in the arts and sciences ; received
the Grand Cross of the Order of Naval Merit, with the white badge and star,
from King Alfonso of Spain, which confers personal nobility and bestowed upon
Ericsson the title of "Excellency;" a special gold raedal frora the Emperor of
Austria, in behalf of science ; a gold medal frora the Society of Iron-Masters in
Sweden ; thanks under the royal seal and signature from Sweden ; joint resolu
tions of thanks from the United States Congress ; thanks from the Legislatures of
New York and of other States ; from the Chamber of Commerce ; from boards
of trade in many cities ; and he was elected to honorary membership in scientific,
historical, literary, religious, and agricultural institutions innumerable. Among
thera all he took the most pride in his simple title of captain, and in the diploma
of LL. D. received from the Wesleyan University in 1862.

V^ILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON*
By William Lloyd Garrison
(1805-1879)
S^5t>[*i£W^iLLiAM Lloyd Garrison, whose narae is indissolubly connected with
'*^V^"^^-?j|i ^^^ abolition of American slavery, was born in the seaport town -of
pV^Si*^ Newburyport, Mass., on Deceraber 10, 1805. His father, Abijah
^3^'y'^^^.^ Garrison, vvas a sea-captain vvho carae frora New Brunsvvick to set-
X>jrU*^.f>jrs^..-^ tie in Newburyport. Deserting his wife and children while the
subject of this sketch was in infancy, his subsequent career is shrouded in mys
tery. Fanny Lloyd, the mother of William Lloyd Garrison, vvas a woman of
remarkable character and personal attraction, vvith an intense religious nature.
Dependent upon her own efforts for the support of the family, she cheerfully
took up the calling of raonthly nurse, and endeavored to rear her children with
care and forethought, and with especial attention to their religious training.
Upon her removal to Lynn, in 181 2, Llovd was left to the care of Deacon Eze-
» Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON 319
kiel Bartlett and was sent to the Grammar Sehool until, at the age of nine, he
joined his raother in Lynn and vvas taught shoeraaking in the shop of Gamaliel
W. Oliver, a kind and excellent member of the
Society of Friends, where his elder brother Jaraes ' ""
was already an apprentice. In 1815, Mn Paul
Newhall, a shoe manufacturer of the same town,
deciding to establish business in Baltimore, invited
Mrs. Garrison and her two boys to accompany
him. There Lloyd vvas eraployed as an errand-boy
and James was again apprenticed at shoe-making.
Mr. Newhall's venture proving unsuccessful, Mrs.
Garrison was constrained to resume nursing and
Lloyd was sent back to Newburyport, his brother
betaking himself to the sea. From Newburyport
hewas sent to Haverhill to learn cabinet-making;
but, in spite of kind treatraent, he disliked the occu
pation and ran away from his -raaster, returning to Newburyport to live again
with his raother's old friend. Deacon Bartlett In 18 18, Ephraim W. Allen, pro
prietor of the Newburyport Herald, accepted Lloyd, then thirteen years of age,
as an apprentice and taught hira the printer's trade. Here at once he found a
vocation suited to his tastes and becarae a rapid and accurate corapositon The
printing-office proved an excellent school for the young raan, developing his lit
erary taste and arabition. He vvas fond of reading, and delighted in poetry and
fiction. Politics especially attracted hira, and at the age of sixteen he vvrote
anonyraous articles for the columns of the Herald. His first contribution was
over the signature of "An Old Bachelon" He was an ardent Federalist and his
political articles attracted attention by their forcible reasoning and direct style.
Caleb Cushing, then editor of the Herald, discovering the lad's abilities, encour
aged and befriended him. In 1826, Mr. Garrison, closing his apprenticeship
with the Herald, became editor and publisher of the Free Press (Newburyport),
within a few months of his majority.
It was to this paper that Whittier made his first poetical contributions anony
mously, and, upon the discovery of his true name, Mr. Garrison sought him out
and encouraged him in his youthful efforts.
After a brief existence of six raonths, the Free Press was sold and Mn Gar
rison again became a journeyman printer, soon seeking emplovment in Boston,
where, after various vicissitudes, he was employed by Rev^ William Collier, a
Baptist city missionary, upon The National Philanthropist, devoted to the "sup
pression of intemperance and kindred vices," becoming its editor in 1828. The
paper had the distinction of being the first temperance journal ever printed, and
among the earliest evidences of Mr. Garrison's interest in the slaver\- question
vvas an editorial article by hira commenting severelv on the bill passed by the
ITouse of jVssemblv of South Carolina to forbid the teaching of reading and
writing to the colored people.

:j-2u WORKMEN AND HEROES
To Benjamin Lundy, a Quaker, and at that time editor of the Genius of
I 'nivcrsal Emancipation, in Baltimore — a paper devoted to the gradual abolition
of slavery  belongs the honor of first attempting to awaken public sentiment on
the subject. Upon his visit to Boston, August 7, 1828, he made the acquaint
ance of Garrison, whose eyes he opened to the iniquity of the slave system.
Durinu- the same year Mn Garrison accepted the invitation of a committee of
prominent citizens of Bennington, Vt., to edit the Journal of the Times, a
weekly newspaper devoted to the re-election of John Quincy Adams against
Andrew Jackson. While started for campaign purposes, the Journal of .the
Times declared for independence of party and advocated the suppression of
intemperance, the gradual emancipation of the slave, the doctrines of peace,
and the so-called American system of protection for fostering native in
dustrv. Attracted by the anti-slavery utterances of Mr. Garrison, Lundy resolved to
invite him to share in the editorship of his paper, walking from Baltimore to
Bennington for the purpose. His earnestness had the desired effect upon Mn
Garrison, who accepted his proffer and relinquished the Journal of the Times.
Before going to Baltimore Mr. Garrison was invited to address the Congrega
tional societies of Boston on July 4th, at the Park Street Church, and took for
his theme " Dangers to the Nation." The poet John Pierpont was present and
wrote a hymn for the occasion. The address was a stirring denunciation of
slavery and a rebuke to the nation for its pretentious devotion to liberty. The
speaker vvas accused by a Boston pajier of slandering his country and blasphem
ing the Declaration of Independence.
Upon his arrival at Baltimore, Garrison, having convinced himself of the ne-
cessitv of immediate and unconditional emancipation, it was agreed, inasmuch as
Lundv adhered to the raethods of gradual emancipation, that each should .sign
his own editorials.
Mn Todd, a Newburyport merchant, having allowed his ship to be used in
the inter-state slave trade between Baltimore and New Orleans, Mr. Garrison
faithfull)' denounced in unmeasured terms his fellow-townsman, and asserted the
equal wickedness of the domestic slave trade vvith that of the foreign traffic,
which, at that time, was in the law considered piracy. Arrested, tried, and con
victed of libel, although the facts were proven, Garrison was incarcerated in the
Baltimore jail, April 17, 1830, in default of a fine of $50 with $50 costs. Un
daunted in his captivity, he continued to write his protest against slaverv and to
record in verse his feelings. His famous sonnet, "The Immortal Mind," was
vvritten with pencil upon the walls of his cell. Liberated at the expiration of
forty-nine davs, through the generosity of Arthur Tappan, of New York, who
paid his fine, (.iarvison visited Boston and Newburyport, endeavoring to .speak in
both places, but the doors of halls and churches were closed against him. i\t
last the hall used by a society of avowed infidels, in Boston, to whom .Vbner
Kneeland preached, was opened to Mn Garrison for three anti-slavery lectures,
and among the audience at his first lecture were Samuel J. May, Samuel E.

WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON 321
Sewall, and A. Bronson Alcott, who then gave in their adhesion to the cause.
Dr. Lyman Beeeher was also present but made no sign.
On January i, 1831, appeared the first number of The Liberator, in Boston,
bearing for its motto, " Our Country is the World — Our Countrymen are Man
kind." Mn Garrison, as editor, was assisted by Isaac Knapp, a fellow-printer
from Newburyport, as publisher. The paper was issued at No. 6 Merchants'
Hall, at the corner of Congress and Water Streets, in the third story, the part
ners making their home in the printing-office. It was this office that Harrison
Gray Otis, the mayor, at the request of ex-Senator Hayne, ferreted out through
his police, describing it as " an obscure hole," containing the editor and a negro
boy, "his only visible auxiliary," while his supporters were "a very fevv insignifi
cant persons of all colors." Lowell has thus described it in a different spirit .
" In a small chamber, friendless and unseen.
Toiled o'er his types one poor, unlearned young man ;
The place was dark, unfurnitured, and mean.
Yet there the freedom of a race began."
In the initial editorial appeared the famous declaration of Mr. Garrison, " I
am in earnest — I will not equivocate — I will not excuse — I will not retreat a sin
gle inch — and I will be heard." Although its circulation was meagre, the pub
lication of The Liberator raade a tremendous sensation throughout the South,
bringing upon its editor abusive and threatening language, and, at the North, un
popularity and persecution. The Legislature of Georgia offered a reward of
$5,000 for his arrest and conviction.
In 1832, the New England Anti-Slavery Society was organized in Boston,
and the campaign for " immediate and unconditional emancipation " begun.
The Colonization Society, vvhich Mr. Garrison forraerly supported but later de
nounced, becarae the object of special attack as an ally of the slave power, and,
to counteract its designs, he sailed for England, May 2, 1833, to expose its pro-
slaverv purposes to the English abolitionists. He was cordiallv received bv
Wilberforce, Buxton, Zachary Maeaulav, Daniel O'Connell, and their associates
in the struggle for West India emancipation, and before he left the kingdom he
witnessed the passage of the Emancipation Act, and was present at the funeral
of Wilberforce, in Westminster ^\bbey. Returning from his successful mission
abroad he narrowlv escaped the hands of a New York mob on landing upon his
native soil.
In December, 1833, the American Anti-.Slaverv Society vvas formed, in Phil
adelphia, and Mr. Garrison drew up its famous Declaration of Sentiments, whicii
numbered among its signers many of the men and women destined to be distin
guished in the anti-slaverv cause, among whora vvas the poet Whittien
( )n September 4, 1834, Mr. Garrison was married to Miss Helen Eliza Ben
son, of Brooklyn, Conn. ; a fortunate and happv- union.
In iS^T, the eminent English orator, George Thompson, came by invitation
to the United States to assist in the emancipation of the American, as he had cjf
21

322 WORKMEN AND HEROES
the West Indian, slave. The announcement that he would speak at a meeting
of the Ladies' Anti-Slavery Society, held in Boston, October 21st, of the same
year, was the occasion of a mob composed of wealthy and respectable citizens of
Boston who aimed to suppress free speech and tar and feather Mn Thompson.
He vvas, however, prevented from attending by his friends, but the fury of the
mob fell upon Mn Garrison, vvho was seized and led through the streets with a
rope around his body, from which position he vvas rescued through the efforts of
Mayor Lyman and imprisoned for .safety in the Leverett Street jail. This out
rage created new friends and gave fresh impetus to the abolition moveraent
In 1840 Mn Garrison again visited England as a delegate of the World's
Anti-Slavery Convention in London, in which body, however, he declined to sit,
because the women vvho were his fellow-delegates from America were excluded.
Occupied continuously with the care of The Liberator and in lecturing, Mn
Garrison led an intensely active life, not confining himself alone to the anti-slavery
reform but erabracing araong other reforms those of temperance, non-resistance,
women's rights, and religious freedom. For, while educated by his mother in the
strict tenets of the Baptist faith, he early experienced a change of theological
views and cast off sectarian bonds. The Liberator vvas used for the expression
of his individual beliefs and was not the organ of any society.
In 1846, the Free Chureh of Scotland having sent emissaries to the United
States to collect funds frora the slaveholders, Mn Garrison again went to Eng
land to urge the Church to return the money thus contributed, and, in company
with George Thompson, Frederick Douglass, Henry C. Wright and others, agi
tated the question throughout Scotland.
Convinced that the constitutional compact of the North with the South to
guard and protect slavery was iraraoral and unjust, in 1843 Mr. Garrison raised
the banner of No Union vvith Slave-FIolders, and advocated the dissolution of
the Union for the sake of freedora, a step which added fresh fuel to the flaraes
of persecution and incurred the loss of many lukewarm adherents.
In 1850, the apostasy of Daniel Webster and the passage of the Fugitive
Slave Law increased the national ferment The sarae year witnessed the famous
Rynder's mob, in New York, and the anti-slavery raeeting at the Tabernacle, at
vvhich Mr. Garrison spoke, was violently broken up.
The abolition mov^ement had novv assumed formidable proportions, dominat
ing the national parties and dictating issues. The Whig part)^ fell to pieces in
consequence, and to it succeeded the Republican party, with Sumner, Seward,
Wilson, Giddings, and other earnest men as leaders. Meanwhile Harriet Beeeher
Stowe, by her famous nov^el, " Uncle Tom's Cabin," had given a vivid picture of
the wrongs of Araerican slavery to the vvorld. The " irrepressible conflict " was
novv rapidly tending to its crisis, and, on the election of Abraham Lincoln to the
Presidency by the Republican party, in 1S60, the signal for civil vvar was giv^en,
and, in 1861, the struggle of arms inaugurated by the attack on Fort Sumter re
placed the peaceful crusade of the abolitionists.
The moral agitation of thirty years had produced its legitimate results, and

WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON 323
when, in 1863, the President proraulgated the emancipation proclamation the
anti-slavery chapter was closed. The Union, which heretofore had been para
raount to liberty, was novv subordinated to it, and Mr. Garrison's antagonism
necessarily ceased with the new araendraent to the Constitution. He had been
accustomed to denounce that instrument as a " covenant vvith death and an
agreement with hell," but, as he expressed it, he had "never expected to see
Death and Hell secede." Foreseeing the inevitable consequence of the w^ar, he
gave heartily his moral support to the Government in the struggle between it and
the slave power. His non-resistance principles and abhorrence of war in no way
diminished his interest in the great conflict, and his sympathies of necessity were
with the soldiers of freedora. His eldest son, George Thompson Garrison, not
sharing his father's scruples, enlisted in the Fifty-fifth Colored Regiment of Mas
sachusetts Volunteers, attaining the rank of captain.
The renomination of Lincoln for a second term, in 1864, developed a breach
in the ranks of the old abolitionists, Mr. Garrison and his adherents supporting
Lincoln, and others, under the lead of Wendell Phillips, advocating the choice
of General Freraont. The latter candidate, however, withdrew from the field
before the election.
In April, 1865, Mn Garrison, with his English friend George Thompson, vvas
invited by the Government to be present as its guest at the ceremony of raising
the Stars and Stripes above the surrendered Fort Sumter, and was received at
Charleston with great enthusiasra by the emancipated slaves. The news of
President Lincoln's assassination hastened the return of the party to the North.
The practical extermination of the slave systera by the adoption of the 13th
Amendment convinced Mr. Garrison that the purpose of the Anti-Slavery Society
and of The Liberator had been accomplished. He therefore withdrew from one
and discontinued the other. After thirty-five years of a stormy and precarious
existence the last number of The Liberator was issued Deceraber 29, 1865.
" Nothing could have been raore in keeping with the uniforra wisdom of your
anti-slavery leadership than the time you chose for resigning it," wrote Lowell to
Mr. Garrison a year later.
The recognition of the pioneer's unselfish service thereupon took shape in a
national testimonial reaching a sum exceeding thirty thousand dollars, thence
forth lifting his life above the pecuniary cares which had so long weighed upon
it A domestic grief in the shape of a paralytic shock to his faithful wife oc
curred in December, 1863, compelling a change of horae from the city tp an at
tractive suburban house in Roxbury, known as Rockledge.
Although his great life-work was finished, Mn Garrison abated no activity in
the various reforms in which he had enlisted. Both vvith voice and pen he
reached a wider and raore attentive public, pleading for justice to the freedraan,
for the legal emancipation of women, the right of the Chinese to free immigra
tion and Christian treatment, freedom of trade (for he early eschewed his youth
ful beUef in the protective system), and for kindred causes.
Y^isiting England for the fourth time in 1867, a public breakfast was given in

324 WORKMEN AND HEROES
Mn Garrison's honor at St. James's Hall, June 29th. John Bright presided, and
among the addresses of welcome were those of Eari Russell, the Duke of Argyll,
John Stuart Mill, George Thompson, and W. Vernon Harcourt Later the free-
d(jm of the city of Edinburgh was conferred upon the American abolitionist, and
in .\ugust he attended the International Anti-Slavery Conference at Paris, repre
senting the American Freedman's Union Commission, and meeting Laboulaye,
Cochin, and other eminent Frenchraen.
The troubled period of reconstruction, involving the defence of the freedraen's
rights, found no more interested observer and participant than Mn Garrison.
The former hostile treatment which had been meted out to him by press and
party was of the past, and, like Lincoln,
" He heard the hisses change to cheers.
The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise,
And took both in the same unwavering mood."
Unique among reformers, he received in life the reverence that usually reveals
itself in post-mortem honors which indicate the late awakening of public con
sciousness and suggest the pathos of their delay.
The felicities of domestic life were his in raore than ordinary raeasure, and
" honor, love, obedience, troops of friends," made his closing years as serene as
his opening career had been stormy. Occasional ailments reminded him of ad
vancing age, but his teraperaraental cheerfulness and faith in human progress
never forsook him.
The death of his dear wife, in 1876, was a visible blow to him, and in the next
year, for physical and mental recuperation, he visited England again for the last
time, with his son Francis, enjoying a delightful reunion with old friends and
making new ones, as was his wont.
In May, 1879, during a visit to his daughter in New York, he breathed his
last on the 24th of the raonth, with all his children about him. He left four
sons, named respectively, George Thompson, William Lloyd, Wendell Phillips,
and Francis Jackson, and an onlv daughter, Helen Francis, the vvife ,of Henrv
\rillard. Two others, a daughter and a son, died at an early age.
In 1885, Mn Garrison's biography, vvritten by his sons Wendell Phillips and
Francis Jackson, vvas published by the Centurv Corapany, in four voluraes, oc
tavo. They contain not only the personal details of a famous career, but a care
ful history of the abolition struggle. To them the future historian must look for
the most faithful picture of the anti-slaverv times and their leader.
A bronze statue of heroic size, executed by Olin L. NYarner, of New York,
representing Mn Garri.son in a sitting posture, was presented to the citv of Bos
ton by several eminent citizens, in 18S6, and is placed on Commonwealth
Avenue, opposite the Hotel \"endome.
Mn Garrison's calra estimate of him.seif has been preserved and may fitly con
elude this sketch :
" The truth is, he who commences an\ reform which at last becomes one of

ELISHA KENT KANE

o-Ja

transcendent importance and is crowned with victory, is always ill-judged and un
fairly estimated. At the outset he is looked upon vvith conterapt, and treated in
the most opprobrious manner, as a wild fanatic or a dangerous disorganizen In
due time the cause grows and advances to its sure triuraph ; and in proportion as
it nears the goal, the popular estimate of his character changes, till finally exces
sive panegyric is substituted for outrageous abuse. The praise, on the one hand,
and the defamation on the other, are equally unmerited. In the clear light of
reason, it will be seen that he simply stood up to discharge a duty which he owed
to his God, to his fellow-men, to the land of his nativity."

y4^ Z^^

^^

ELISHA KENT KANE*

By General A. \V. Greely

(1820-1857)

ELISHA Kent Kane, son of
Judge John K. Kane, was
born in Philadelphia, February
3, 1820. In his youth he dis
played those qualifications of
ceaseless activity, daring advent
ure, and strong personal courage
vvhich characterized his mature
raanhood. Inclined to all ef
forts involving physical hard
ships and contact with nature,
his early education was devoted
to civil engineering and such

natural sciences as chemistry,
geography, geology, and miner
alogy. Unfortunately, in his
sixteenth vear, chronic and func
tional heart disease developed,
which intermittentlv affected
him through life and deterred
him from the profession of an
Applying himself to medicine, he graduated therein in 1842 at tlie
Universitv of Pennsylvania, in th(,' meantime having served as a resident phvsician
of the Pennsvlvania Hospital. His inaugural medical thesis, based on personal
experiments and observations, gave him a reinitation vvhich augured professional
"Copvriffht. 1894, by .Si-lmar Hess.

engineer

326 WORKMEN AND HEROES
prominence. In 1843 he was appointed physician to the United States erabassy
to China, under Caleb Cushing, who was charged with the negotiation of a treaty
vvith that country. At the way ports and during the tedious intervals of the
treaty negotiations, Kane lost no opportunity of trav^el and adventure. With
Baron Loe he visited the Philippine Islands and the volcano of Tael. Not con
tent with the usual point of view, and despite the protestations of the native
Sfuides, he was lowered two hundred feet in the crater, whence he .scrambled
downward to the smoking sulphur lake and dipped his specimen bottles into its
stearaing waters. In his ascent the loose, heated ashes charred his boots and
gave way under his feet, the sulphur vapors nearly asphyxiated hira, he fell
repeatedly, and was barely able to tie the baraboo rope around him. Drawn up
in an exhausted condition, and carried to a neighboring hermitage, he barely
escaped violence at the hands of the offended natives, who considered his rash
feat a sacrilege.
Resigning his appointment with the legation, Kane established himself as a
physician at Whampoa, on the Canton River, vvhere illness shortly broke up his
professional practice. Fortunately for his future fame he vvas unsuccessful in his
application to the Spanish Governraent for permission to practise medicine 'at
ManiUa, and Kane returned to the United States by the way of Singapore, India,
Egypt, and Europe, his journey marked by adventure and danger. In these, as
in all other sea voyages, he suffered excessively from sea-sickness, which required
all of his indomitable will to endure with equanimity.
In 1846 he vvas commissioned assistant surgeon in the United States Navy ;
his first sea duty took him to the west coast of Africa, where coast fever invalided
him within ten months. His desire for active service was so great that before
his health vvas re-established he obtained orders from the Secretary of the Navy
to proceed to headquarters of the army, then in the City of Mexico, for dutv in
connection with the collection of data relative to field hospitajs and surgical statis
tics. Here his activity and daring resulted in his being wounded in a guerilla
skirmish. Assigned temporarily to a surveying vessel, circumstances soon determined
Kane's career and gave full scope to his enthusiastic energies, and insured his
future fame. The appeals of Lady Franklin, the recommendations of President
Taylor, and the generosity of Henry Grinnell, had culminated in the organization
of a search expedition for Franklin in the Arctic regions. It was provided that
the vessels should be manned by volunteers from the Navy, and among those of
fering their services for this raission of humanity none was more importunate
than Kane. Persistent efforts brought him orders for this fateful voyage while
bathing in the tepid waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and ten davs later he sailed
from New ^'ork for the icy wastes of the North as sura-eon of De Haven's flap--
ship, the Advance. This search, known in Arctic history as the First Grinnell
Expedition, was made under a joint resolution of the Congress of the United
States, dated May 2, 1850, "to accept and attach to the Nav^y two vessels of
fered by Henry Grinnell, Esq., to be sent to the Arctic seas in search of Sir John

ELISHA KENT KANE 327
Franklin and his companions." Tvv^o very sraall sailing brigs constituted the
fleet, the flag-ship Advance, commanded by De Haven, an officer of Antarctic
'experience under Wilkes, and the Rescue, under Master Griffin ; the entire party
numbered thirty-three officers and men.
Their objective point vvas Lancaster Sound and its westward extension, Bar
row Strait, whence either or both Wellington Channel and Cape Walker were to
be visited. The squadron passed safely through Davis Strait, and skirting the
dreaded land-ice of Melville Bay, reached Cape York after three wrecks of con
stant and dangerous struggle with the heavy ice, which nearly destroyed the Res
cue, borne almost on her beara-ends by the enorraous pressure frora a raoving
ice-pack. De Haven fell in with the English squadrons on the same errand, Au
gust 19, 1850, and, entering Lancaster Sound with his British consorts, devoted
his energies to the search in hand. Griffin, of the Rescue, shared with Captain
Ommaney, R. N., the honors of the discovery, at Beechy island, of the wintering-
place of Franklin's squadron in 1845-46. Later three graves of members of
Franklin's party were found, and numerous evidences of the good condition and
activity of the expedition during that winter. About three weeks later, on
September 10, 1850, De Flaven concluded that the position attained vvas not
sufficiently advantageous to justify his wintering, and so decided to return to the
United States. Unfortunately, strong gales and verv cold weather prevented
iraraediate action, and in a fevv days both brigs were frozen immovably in an
enormous ice-pack, where they vvere destined to drift helplessly to and fro at the
mercy of the winds and currents for raany months.
Beset in Wellington Channel, to the north of Beechy Island, the American
squadron first found itself drifting slowly, but with alarming steadiness, to the
north, into waters and along coasts that had, as far as they then knew, never
been visited. The drift carried the xAdvance to latitude 75° 25' north, longitude
91° 31' west, and on September 22d they discovered new land, to vvhich De
Haven gave the raerited narae of Grinnell. It proved to be an integral part of
North Devon, of vvhich it was the northwestern extension. Every fevv days there
was a partial breaking up of the pack and consequent danger of destruction. On
one occasion, says Kajie : "We are lifted bodily eighteen inches out of water.
The hummocks are reared up around the ship, so as to rise a couple of feet above
our bulwarks, five feet above our deck. They are very often ten and twelve feet
high, and threaten to overwhelm us. i\dd to this, darkness, snow, cold, and the
absolute destitution of surrounding shores." The temperature fell below zero and
the ships seemed destined to winter in Wellington Channel, but fortunately a
strong northwest gale, in conjunction with heavv tides, disintegrated the main
pack and set ships, ice and all, southward into Barrow Strait. Here they fell
under the action of a southeasterly current and, drifting all winter, passed slowly
through Lancaster Sound into Baffin Bav, where the opening polar sumraer found
them vet fast in the ice, from which the two brigs vvere freed off Cape \Yalsing-
ham, June 5, 1851, after drifting in eight and a half raonths a distance of ten hun
dred and fifty railes. It is impossible to adequately describe their physical dis-

3-28 WORKMEN AND HEROES
comforts and dangers, the mental depression of the sunless midwinter of eight
weeks, and the even harder experiences of the Arctic spring-tide, when excessive
cold and increasing lassitude made steady inroads on their irapaired constitutions. *
Kane tells us they vvere continually harassed by uncertainties as to their ulti
raate fate. Yesterday the unbroken floe, stretching as far as the eye could reach,
seemed so firm and stable as to insure months of quiet, uninterrupted life. To
day, the groaning, uneasy pack, yielding to ,an unseen power, split and cracked in
all directions, throwing up huge masses of solid ice, that threatened to destroy
instantly the ship, and occasionally opened in wide cracks through which rushed
the open sea. Indeed, the conditions were so critical and the ice-movements so
rapid, that the entire party, within the brief space of twenty-four hours, had four
times raade ready to abandon their vessels.
In March the cold becarae intense, and for a week it averaged fifty-three de
grees below the freezing-point. Scurvy assailed all but five of the crew, and De
Haven was so ill that all his duties devolved on Griffin, who heroically bore up
under disease and the raental and raoral responsibilities that the situation forced
on hira. In aU his efforts Griffin had no more effective coadjutor than the fleet-
surgeon, Kane. Whether acting as a medical officer, treating skilfully the dis
eased crew ; as a hunter, supplementing their scanty stock of anti-scorbutic food
with the fresh meat of the seal ; or as a man, devising means of amusement and
stimulating them to mental and physical exertions, Kane incessantly displayed
such qualities of cheerfulness, activity, and ingenuity as tended to dispel the pall
of despair that sometimes enveloped the whole expedition.
When release from the ice permitted the voyage to be renewed, De Haven
decided to refit in the Greenland ports and again return to Lancaster Sound ;
fortunately, as the squadron was not fitted for a second year's work, the ice in
Melville Bay was such as to prevent iraraediate passage, and so they turned
southward, reaching the United States on September 30, 185 1.
Such desperate experiences as those involved in the mid-winter drift of the
Advance, vvould have deterred raost raen for a time frora a second voyage, but
with Kane the stimulus to future work apparently increased with everv league
that he sailed southward. The ship was hardly in port before he initiated a plan
for another expedition in the spring of 1852. This failing, he wrote Lady Frank
lin in May, offering to go with Captain Penny, or any good sailing-master, to
give his services without pay, and pledging himself to go to work and raise funds.
Finding it impossililc to go with any British expedition, he turned his entire
efforts to organizing another from America. His chivalric enthusiasm enlisted
the sympathies and active support of Henrv Grinnell and George Peabody, the
first loaning the ship and the latter contributing $10,000 for general expenses.
The United States again aided, not onlv i)utting Kane on sea-pav, but also
attached ten men of the Navy, under government pay. Instruments, provisions,
etc., were hkewise supplied by the Secretary of the Navy, and aid in other direc
tions vvas afforded by the Smithsonian Inslitution, the Naval Observatory, and
other scientific associations. At this juncture the discoveries of Captain Ingle-

ELISHA KENT KANE 329
field, R. N., in Smith Sound, afforded to Kane a new route for his activities.
The scherae, as far as the search for Franklin was concerned, was well-raeamng,
but none the less fallacious and illogical. Kane was personally cognizant of the'
fact that Franklin had gone into Lancaster Sound, and had wintered in 1845-46
at Beechy Island, plainly following the direct and positive orders of the Adrai-
ralty, that he should push southward frora Cape Walker to the neighborhood of
Behring Strait. Moreover, the last mail ever received from the Franklin expedi
tion contained a letter from Captain Fitz-James, in which he .stated that Frank
lin had shown him the orders, expressed his disbelief in an open sea to the
north, and had given " a. pleasant account of his expectations of being able to
get through the ice on the north coast of America."
A search for Franklin by the way of Sraith Sound, seventeen degrees of
longitude and four degrees of latitude to the north and east of his last known
position, was to assume not only that Franklin had disobeyed the strict letter of
his instructions, but had also abandoned his voyage after having accomplished
one-third of the distance from Greenland to Behring Strait.
As the initiator and inspirer of the expedition, Kane was the natural head of
it, but there were difficulties in the way.
The assignment of a surgeon to the command of a naval expedition was un
precedented ; but somehow Kane succeeded in overcoming even the time-honored
observances of the Navy, and was placed in coraraand by a formal order of the
Secretary of the Navy in Noveraber, 1852.
Kane repeatedly set forth his belief in an open Polar sea, and announced his
expectation of reaching it The expedition was not alone a proposed search for
Franklin, but especially conteraplated the continuation to the northward of the
discoveries made in 185 1 by Captain Inglefield, on the west coast of Greenland.
Kane declared his intention of reaching " its most northern attainable point, and
thence pressing on toward the Pole as far as boats or sleds could carry us, ex
amine the coast lines for vestiges of the lost party," and " seeking the open sea
. . . launch our little boats, and embark upon its waters."
On May 30, 1853, the expedition left New York in the sailing brig Ad
vance, there being seventeen merabers all told. The vessel was stanch, well-
fitted, and suitable, the scientific instruments satisfactory, but the provisions were
illy chosen for Arctic service, and the equipment in raany respects inadequate or
deficient The Greenland ports supplied skin-clothing, dogs, and Eskirao dog-
drivers ; the latter being destined to play an iraportant part in establishing har
monious relations with the Etah natives. On reaching Melville Bay,, Kane de
cided to take the raiddle passage, direct through the dreaded pack — a most
venturesome route for a sailing-vessel. Favored by an off-shore gale, the Ad
vance escaped vvith the loss of a whale-boat, and emerged into the open sea near
Cape York, known as the North Waten Stopped by the ice, Kane wisely de
cided to cache his metaUic life-boat, filled with boat-stores, on Littleton Island,
so as to secure his retreat, since, as he says : " My raind was raade up frora the
first that we are to force our way to the north as far as the elements will let us."

330 WORKxMEN AND HEROES
The ice opening with the ride, Kane rounded Cape Hatherton and was now in
Kane Sea ; but the Advance vvas iraraediately driven into a cove for shelten At
the first opportunity sail was again raade and a short distance gained to the east-
northeast, when a violent gale nearly wrecked hen Repeated efforts to work
the vessel to the eastward, along a lee coast, destroyed fittings and boat, and were
so fruitful in danger that on August 26th seven out of his eight officers addressed
Kane in writing, to the effect " that a further progress to the North was impos
sible, and [they] were in favor of returning southward to winten" Unfortu
nately, Kane was not " able conscientiously to take the same view," as such retreat
would have left hira in a less favorable situation to pursue his explorations. Two
weeks longer the brig was warped to the east during high water, whenever she
was not jammed by huge floes against the rugged coast ; but at low water the
brig grounded and was daily in danger of total destruction. Finally, on Septem
ber 9th, she was put in winter-quarters in 78° 37' N., 71° 14' W., in Rensselaer
Harbor, which, says Kane, " we vvere fated never to leave together — a long rest
ing-place to her, for the same ice is round her stUl." Winter now advanced with
startling rapidity and excessive severity ; freezing temperatures now permanently
obtained, the water-fowl were gone, and the scanty vegetation blighted. All
were busy, some constructing a building for raagnetic and meteorological obser
vations, others' making journeys along the eastern coast. . Kane visited the high
land adjoining Mary Minturn River, some fifty railes away, whence he could see
Washington Land in the vicinity of Cape Constitution. Hayes and Wilson
journeyed on the inland ice, while McGary with six others raade three caches on
the coast, the farthest being under the face of the largest of all Arctic glaciers,
now known by the name of Humboldt The winter prove'ci to be unusuaUy
cold, the temperature, from December to March inclusive, averaging fifty-four de
grees below the freezing-point of waten Most fortunately the men reraained in
health, but Kane grieved over the loss of his dogs, only a dozen surviving out of
the original eighty.
In this conringency Kane decided to put his raen in the field, and after two
weeks of excessive cold, the temperature averaging seventy-seven degrees below
freezing, a party was sent out while the mercury was yet frozen. Their orders
were to reach Washington Land, about one hundred miles distant across the sea-
ice. It soon became evident to Brooks, the coraraander of the party, that the
journey was impossible of execurion, and after eight marches, in which less than
forty miles vvere traversed, he turned back on March 29, 1854. The cold that
day was intense, about ninety degrees below freezing, and the next morning four
men were frozen so badly that they could not walk. Only four men were left
for work. The distance to the brig was thirty miles, vvhile the intervening ice
was so rough that they could not drag their disabled comrades. Hickey volun
teered to remain, vvhile Sontag, Ohlsen, and Petersen should go to the brig for
help. The three raen finally reached the Advance, but they were so physTcally
exhausted and in such mental condition that they could not even indicate in
what direction they had left their corarades.

ELISHA KENT KANE 331
Kane appreciated the gravity of the situation and the necessity of prorapt
measures. A relief party was at once started, which Kane led himself, despite
his impaired health, physical weakness, and general unfitness for such a desperate
journey ; as always, he spared not himself when danger threatened. Ohlsen,
being the clearest-headed of the sledgemen, was put in a sleeping-bag and dragged
on a sledge as a guide.
Eighteen hours' travel were without tangible result ; Kane fainted twice on
the snow ; his stoutest men were seized with trembling fits, and as yet no signs
of the missing party. Fortunately Kane had taken the Eskimo, Hans Hendrik,
whose keen eye discovered the track that led to the tent of the frozen men.
They were alive, but crippled beyond the possibility of marching. The weather
remained fine or all would have perished, and as it was, Hayes, the surgeon, in
his report of their condition on reaching the brig, said : "I vvas startled by their
ghastly appearance. When I hailed them they met me only with a vacant, wild
stare. They were to a man delirious." Of the eight men only one returned
sound ; two shortly died, two others suffered amputations, and three escaped with
temporary disabilities.
Three weeks later, on April 26th, Kane set out on vvhat, to use his own
words, "was to be the crowning expedition of the campaign, to attain the Ultima
Thule of the Greenland shore." Impressed with the impracticability of a direct
journey across the main ice-pack, he decided to follow the shore-line, five raen
dragging a sledge, while Kane and Godfrey travelled by dog-teara. He had been
led by his resolute spirit to overestimate the physical strength of his men and
himself, and the party broke down before it had even approached the Humboldt
Glacier. Their enthusiastic leader was stricken with fainting spells and rigidity
of limbs, but Kane vvould not admit his illness to be more than temporary, and
bidding the men strap him on the sledge, proceeded onward. His diminished
physical powers now becarae evident through the freezing of his rigid and swol
len limbs. Delirious and fainting at the end of the march, he was carried in an
almo.st insensible condition to his tent, when his raen wisely took the matter in
their own hands and started back for the brig. Nine days later, through forced
marches and heroic efforts of his sledge-mates, theraselves partially disabled,
Kane was carried on board the Advance fluctuating between life and death.
Hardly conscious, his mind clouded, and his swoUen features barely recognizable,
his general condition vvas such that the surgeon regarded his ultimate recovery
as nearly hopeless.
While Kane's recuperative powers were siraply marvellous, yet he did not
recover sufficiently to make another journey that spring. In this extreraity he
turned to his surgeon, Israel I. Hayes, vvho volunteered to explore the unknown
shores of Grinnell Land, which lay in sight to the west of Smith Sound. With
the seaman Godfrey as a companion and a dog-teara as the means of transporta
tion, Hayes struggled through the almost impassable floes and bergs of the main
strait and finally attained Cape Hayes, on the western coast, in about 79° 43' N.
latitude. The return journey to the Advance was possible only by abandoning

332 WORKMEN AND HEROES
everything that in the slightest degree impeded the progress of the exhausted
raen and famishing dogs.
This success caused Kane to raake one more effort to reach the hitherto inac
cessible Washington Land, and for this purpose he placed aU his means at the dis-'
posal of one of his seamen, WiUiara Morton. A supporting party accompanied
Morton to Humboldt Glacier, whence he proceeded with Eskimo Hans Hendrik
and a dog-teara on the advance journey. Their track lay over the sea-ice, about
five miles frora, and parallel with, the face of the glacien Five days took thera
to the new land to the north, and three days later, June 24, 1854, Morton reached
alone an impassable headland. Cape Constiturion. From the highest attainable
elevation Morton found his view corapletely cut off to the northeast, but between
the west and north he could see the southeastern half of Kennedy's Channel as
far north as Mount Ross, 80" 58' N. He says " Not a speck of ice was to be
seen as far as I could observe ; the sea was open, the swell came from the north
ward . . . and the surf broke in on the rocks below in regular breakers." Mor
ton described accurately the general landscape, but he was an incompetent astro
nomical observer, and his estimates of distances vvere excessive. The farthest
point was charted nearly a hundred miles north of its true position, while Cape
Constitution was placed 31 miles too far north by Morton and 52 geographic
miles by Kane, who " corrected " Morton's observations by a series of erroneous
bearings. Morton's general account of his explorations has been confirmed by
Hans Hendrik in his Memoir vvritten some years since in Eskimo.
In the meantime the Etah Eskimo, natives of Prudhoe land, had discovered the
brig, and through the interpreter, Hans Hendrik, proraptly established friendly
relations with Kane. It raay be said that the expedition owed its final safety to
these natives ; their supplies of fresh raeat checked scurvy, and later their dog
teams rendered retreat possible. Slight misunderstandings, not always the fault
of the natives, naturally occurred, but the Eskimo were honest, humane, and will
ing, and never coraraitted a hostile act
The summer of 1854 justified the expressed fears of Kane's officers, for it
passed with the ice yet unbroken in Rensselaer Harbor. It was evident in July
that the brig would never be freed frora the ice, and in this critical situation,
Kane, taking five raen in a whaleboat, attempted to reach Beechy Island, several
hundred miles to the southwest, whence he expected to obtain succor frora the
English searching squadron. The unfavorable condition of the ice in Smith
Sound caused the failure of this attempt, and, yet worse, encouraged the idea of
dividing the party ; an idea that culminated in the well-known " Arctic Boat Jour
ney," as Dr. Hayes terraed it Despite Kane's futile experiences in Julv, the
raajority of the party maintained that a boat journey to Upernavik vvas both prac
ticable and advisable. Confronted by this attitude of the expeditionary force,
Kane assembled them, set forth the dangers of such an attempt, and vehemently
urged them to abandon the project, which the lateness of the season and the un
favorable ice conditions rendered most improbable of succes.s. Finally he granted
the privUege of unfettered action to such as believed the journey practicable.

ELISHA KENT KANE 333
stipulating only that those leaving the vessel should renounce, in writing, all
claims upon the expedition and should elect a leaden Nine elected to go,
eight to remain. Kane displayed a magnanimous spirit, equipping thera most
liberally, and. assuring them, in writing, that the brig should be ever open should
disaster overtake them. The boat journey was a failure, and Kane bade them
welcome when, early in December, he learned that the party, sorae two hun
dred railes distant and in irarainent danger of perishing by starvation, was de
sirous of returning to the Advance. Kane promptly sent supplies to the suffering
men, and, on December 12th, the entire crew was once again upon the brig.
The winter of 1854-5 passed wretchedly ; the physical condition of the party
steadily deteriorated ; failing fuel necessitated the burning of -the upper wood
works; of the brig ; their food was reduced to ordinary marine stores, and game
faUed equally to the hunters of the Advance and the persistent efforts of the Etah
natives on the ice-clad land and in the frozen sea. In addition scurvy attacked
the crew ; Hayes lost a portion of his frozen foot, and hardly a man of the crew
remained fit for duty. The necessity of abandoning the brig and retreating by
boat to Upernavik, Danish Greenland, was now forced upon Kane's mind. The
co-operation of the natives greatly facilitated, if it did not alone render possible,
the transportation of their provisions, boats, and stores to Cape Alexanden Kane
says the Eskimo " brought daily supplies of birds, assisted in carrying boat
stores, and invariably exhibited the kindest feelings and strictest honesty."
Bidding farewell to the natives at Cape Alexander on June 15, 1855, Cape
York was passed, the land ice of Melville Bay followed, and the northern coast
of Danish Greenland reached in forty-sevdn days. In the meantirae a relief
squadron under coraraand of Lieutenant Hartstene, United States Navy, had vis
ited Sraith Sound, where the natives inforraed him of Kane's journey southward.
Taken on board the returning flag-ship at Disco, Kane and his raen reached New
York, October 11, 1855.
Kane had hardly reached horae when it becarae evident that his undermined
constitution could not longer withstand the inroads of a disease which for twenty
years had afflicted him. Change of climate vvas tried vv^ithout avail, and he died
at Havana, Cuba, February 16, 1857, at the early age of thirty-seven.
Between his first and second voyages Kane had becorae deeply interested in
Margaretta Fox, one of the well-known spiritualists, vvho later published their
correspondence under the title of "The Love Life of Dr. Kane." Their rela
tions, it is believed, resulted in a secret raarriage shortly before Kane's death.
The rare literary skill shown in the account of Kane's expedition has charraed
millions of readers with its graphic account of the labors, hardships, and priva
tions of Kane and his men. It should not, however, be considered that this ex
pedition raerits attention alone from its tales of suffering and bravery, for none
other of that greneration contributed so materially to a correct knowledge of the
Arctic regions. In ethnology it gave the first full account of the Etah Eskirao,
the northernmost inhabitants of the world ; in natural history its data as to the
flora and fauna of the isolated and ice-surrounded extremity of western Green-

334

WORKMEN AND HEROES

land were original, and have been to this day but scantily suppleraented ; in
physical sciences, the raagnetic, tidal, and cliraatic observations reraained for
twenty years the raost important series pertaining to the Arctic regions. Kane's
voyage not only extended geographically Inglefield's discoveries a hundred miles
to the northward, but it also opened up a practical and safe route for Arctic ex
ploration, which has been more fruitful of successful, results than any other.
Kane vvas a man of generous impulses, enthusiastic ideals, and kindly heart
His chivalric nature, indomitable will, and great courage often irapelled him to
hazardous enterprises ; but he stands out in this modern age as an unselfish char
acter, willing to brave hardships and risk his own Ufe on a vague possibility of
rescuing Franklin and his companions.

FERDINAND DE LESSEPS*
By Clarence Cook '
(born 1805)

A fevv years later, and all is changed.
Ferdinand de Lesseps is in deep disgrace.

IF, as Dante sings : " There is no
greater grief than in a time of
misery to remember happier days,"
there are few persons in our time
who can testify more feelingly to the
truth of the poet's words than Fer
dinand de Lesseps. For many years
he was a bright-shining, sympathetic
figure among those who lead in the
van of our material progress ; and the
accomplishment, by his initiative and
energy, of the long dream of the
Suez Canal, made him the hero, not
of his own nation alone, but of all the
civilized world ; honors were heaped
upon him, and acclamations greeted
hira on every side. His narae be
carae a household word.
At the advanced age of eighty-eight.
Charged vvith the chief responsibihty

for the ruin brought about by the failure of another of his great enterprises— the
Panama Canal— he has been condemned by the tribunal to pay a huge fine, and
* Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

FERDINAND DE LESSEPS , 335
has only been saved from the sharae of actual iraprisonraent by the knowledge
of his judges that, in his feeble state of health, imprisonraent would speedily be
fatal. As at the cereraonies on the occasion of the opening of the Suez Canal,
De Lesseps was corapared to Colurabus, the opener of a way to the new world,
so we may see the close of the great discoverer's career reflected in the tragic
ending of the splendid fortunes of De Lesseps.
Ferdinand de Lesseps was the son of a French gentleraan who, fifty years
since, was in the Consular service of France in Egypt. He was born at Ver
sailles in 1805, and after receiving the usual education given to youth of his class,
he was early inducted into the mysteries of diplomatic life, where his father's
services and influence naturally opened a way for him. In 1833, when twenty-
eight, he was made consul at Cairo, and remained at that post for over ten years,
during which time he laid the foundations for that knowledge of all raatters con
nected with Egyptian affairs which was to prove so valuable to hira and to the
world a few years later.
In 1842, De Lesseps was transferred from Cairo to Spain, and was made
consul at Barcelona. Spain was at this tirae much disturbed by factional quar
rels and jealousies, partly due to disputed claims to the succession to the throne,
and partly to the angry rivalries of political leaders, each eager to save the
country by his particular nostrum. In the dynastic struggle. Queen Christina,
made regent after the death of her husband, Ferdinand VIL, had been exiled to
France, and General Espartero, who at first had stood for her cause, now ruled as
regent in her place. In 1843, the year after the arrival of De Lesseps, the city
of Barcelona, which in comraon with many other places had refused to support
Espartero, openly revolted, and was besieged and bombarded by his forces ; and
in the course of the siege, which brought great misery upon the inhabitants, De
Lesseps did .so many huraane and generous acts at great personal risk, that he
was rewarded by honors from the governments of several nations whose subjects
had been protected by him in his official capacity.
It was natural that after this proof of his abilities, De Lesseps should be
advanced to a still higher position, and in the spring of 1848 he was made min
ister to Madrid. This place he held, however, only until February, 1849, for "^
May of that year he was sent to Rome to patch up a peace between the popular
party and the French array of occupation. This proved an unfortunate venture.
De Lesseps was recalled to France in disgrace, in June of the same year, for
having shown too great a sympathy for the party of Mazzini, which aimed to
establish a Roman Republic.
It may be conjectured that the disappointraent of De Lesseps at this abrupt
ending of his diplomatic career was not very great He had not been drawn to
the profession by natural inclination, but had inherited it, so to speak, from his
father, as another man raight inherit the profession of law or raedicine, or as the
son of a mechanic might inherit his father's trade. His ambition and tastes both
led him in a different direction ; he would play a raore active, a more striking
part in the affairs of his time.

336 . WORKMEN AND HEROES
During the period of his residence in Egypt, as consul for France, he must
often have heard the project of a canal across the Isthmus of Suez discussed,
since the course of events was every year making the necessity of the undertak-
inar raore evident As is well known, the idea of such a canal was not a new one :
Herodotus speaks of a canal designed and partly excavated by Pharaoh Necho
in the seventh century before Christ, to connect the city of Buba.stis, in the Delta
of the Nile, with the Red Sea. As planned, the canal was to be ten feet deep
with a width sufficient for two trireraes to pass abreast, and it was expected that
the voyage would be accoraplished in four days. After the lives of 126,000
Egyptian workmen had been sacrificed to the hardships of the undertaking, He
rodotus says that Necho, alarraed at the difficulties and expense, consulted the
Oracle as to what was best for hira to do, and received the answer : " Thou art
working for barbarians." The Egyptians, like the Greeks, considered all for
eigners as barbarians, and the answer siraply reflected the sentiraent of the people,
or of their leaders, that this vast expenditure of labor, tirae, and raoney would
prove to be, after all, as rauch for the benefit of foreigners as for themselves. The
Oracle gave a voice to national and political prejudices, such as even in our own
tirae are continuaUy evoked to block the wheels of great enterprises. Necho, we
are told, heeded the warning of the Oracle and abandoned the enterprise, but about
one hundred years later, in the tirae of Darius Hystaspes, work on the canal was
resumed and the undertaking was corapleted. From time to time we find raen
tion made of the canal by later authors, but about the end of the eighth century
of our era it was finally abandoned and left to be blocked up by the sand.
The project was revived by Napoleon I. at the time of his Egyptian expedi
tion ; but, on the report of his engineer, M. Lepere, now known to be mistaken,
that the Red Sea level was thirty feet higher than that of the Mediterranean,
nothing further was done ; nor was it until so late as 1847 that it was again taken
up and an attempt made to interest the maritime powers of Europe in the
scheme ; but nothing serious vvas accomphshed.
In truth, the idea of a canal uniting the two seas, had up to this rime been
largely sentiraental, if we may so express it ; rather connected with vast schemes
of conquest than founded on the vital needs of coramercial development and the
material good of the people. The comraerce of the Mediterranean countries
with India and the remoter East had not in those eariier rimes reached a point
where such a costly undertaking as the Suez Canal could prove reraunerarive ;
what trade there was could be sufficiently and more cheaply accommodated by
the Overiand machinery of caravans, while France, Spain, and England stUl
found the route by the Cape to answer all their purposes. In fact it was more
than doubtful whether saihng-vessels, by means of which trade was then chiefly
carried on, or even steamers of the build then employed, could use the canal to
profit It was believed that the advantages promised by a shorter route would
be counterbalanced by the delays and dangers reckoned inseparable frora the nav
igation of so narrow a water-way.
These objections, really of a serious nature, made it difficult to win ov^er the

FERDINAND DE LESSEPS 337
business world to a practical interest in the scherae. De Lesseps had been from
the start the chief mover in the enterprise, to which he had given many years of
his time, and he was not a man to be discouraged by repeated failures to bring
others to his own way of thinking. His long experience, besides, in the ways of
diploraacy had prepared hira for delays and obstructions'; but the tirae came, at
last, when his enthusiasm, his eonfidence in himself, and his skill in dealing with
raen were to bring about the realization of his hopes.
Five years, from 1849 to 1854, had been occupied by De Lesseps in negotia
tions with governments and bankers, but it was not untU 1854 that the event
occurred which insured the success of his great undertaking. In that year, Ma
homet Said Pasha became Y'^iceroy of Egypt, and no sooner was he seated than
he sent for De Lesseps to consult with him as to the possibility of carrying out
the project of the canal. In Noveraber of the same year, a commission was
signed at Cairo by the Viceroy charging De Lesseps with the formation of a
company to be named the United Suez Canal Company, with a capital of two
hundred million francs, afterward raised to three hundred raillion. From this
time the affairs of the canal went on with coraparative sraoothness, and by 1858
the money necessary for the work had been pledged ; one-half the loan was
placed on the continent, chiefly in Paris, the other half was taken by the Viceroy.
Actual work on the canal was begun in 1858 and such rapid progress was
made that it was corapleted in the autumn of 1869, and opened to the commerce
of the world with magnificent ceremonies, lasting for several days. Religious
ceremonies, in which priests of the Catholic Church, the Greek Church, and the
Moslem faith united, were followed by a naval parade representing the Euro
pean powers and the United States, and the whole concluded vvith a brilliant
series of fetes and entertainments at Cairo. As the originator of the canal, De
Lesseps, was a Frenchman, and as France had been the chief promoter of the
enterprise, the place of honor at these cereraonies was naturally given to the
Empress Eugenie, who went to Cairo as the representative of the French na
tion ; while to De Lesseps, as naturally, was given the next place, a position
vvhich he filled with equal dignity and modesty, winning " golden opinions from
all sorts df people."
The Suez Canal, though a vast and iraportant undertaking, presented almost
no engineering difficulties to be overcome. i\t Port Said, the Mediterranean
entrance to the canal, two great piers, to serv^e as breakwaters, were built of arti
ficial stone, projecting into the sea ; the western, a distance of 6,940 feet, the
eastern 6,020 feet, and enclosing an area of 450 acres ; thus providing a safe and
commodious harbor. At Suez, the Red Sea terminus of the canal, a less for
raidable defense vvas needed ; but the necessarv docks and buildings called for a
considerable outlay.
From Port Said to Suez the land is alraost a dead level ; the few sand-dunes
that break the raonotonous uniforraity of the isthmus nowhere reach a greater
height than fifty or sixty feet Along the middle line of the isthmus there vvas a
.series of depressions ; sorae shallow, and others, the bottoms of which were

338 WORKMEN AND HEROES
lower than the level of the sea. Although these depressions were at all times
dry, vet thev were called " lakes," and as such figure on the maps, where we read
the names " Lake Timsah," "The Bitter Lakes '¦' and others. They were found
to be thicklv incrusted with salt on the bottom and sides, indicating that at one
tirae they had been filled vvith sea-water ; it is indeed raost probable that the
whole isthmus was at a very reraote period entirely subraerged. In the construc
tion of the canal these depressions were raade to play a very iraportant part. The
line of the canal was carried directly through thera ; the shallower were brought
to a sufficient depth by dredging ; the deeper were siraply filled with water and
required nothing more for safe navigation than an indication of the channel by
buoys. Thus, in the whole length of the canal, reckoned at 88 geographical
miles, there are 66 miles of actual digging; 14 miles of dredging through the
lakes ; and 8 miles, where neither digging nor dredging was required.
Water began to flow from the Mediterranean into the canal in February,
1869, and from the Red Sea in July of the same year; and by October, the
lakes, and the canal in its whole length, vvere filled with water navigable by vessels
of the highest class. The water-way thus obtained has a width at the surface
varying from 197 feet at deep cuttings, to 225 feet at lower ground. The sides
slope to a width at the bottom of 72 feet, and an average depth of 26 feet is se
cured along the whole course. As the water is at one level from sea to sea, the
canal is without obstruction of any kind. No locks, dams, or water-gates are
required, and vessels enter the canal from either end and pursue their journey
without interruption or detention.
So great, however, was the eagerness of trade to take advantage of the new
route, that the volume of traffic increased within a very short time after the open
ing of the canal to such an extent as to cause serious delays in the transit, and a
number of schemes were brought forward for building other canals by vvhich the
two seas might be united. In the end, all these plans were abandoned, and it
was decided to widen the canal sufficiently to enable it to meet the increased de
mand upon its carrying capacity. It may not be without interest to note the
growth of traffic in the canal by a fevv figures. From 486 ships which passed
through in 1870, the number rose to 3,100 in 1886 ; while the receipts increased
from $1,031,875 in 1870, to $1 1,541,090 in 1886. The canal, when completed,
was found to have cost twenty million pounds steriing, a sum far in adv^rnce of
the original estimate, but made necessary by the addition of several important
items of expenditure that were not foreseen. One of these was the substitution
of paid labor for the forced labor promised by the Pasha, but which was made im
possible by public clamon The Egyptian ruler discov^ered that he was not living
in the times of the pyramid-building Pharaohs, when men were made beasts-of-
burden. Another item not provided for was the necessity of .supplying the 30,000
workmen employed on the canal with fresh waten For this purpose, a branch
canal had to be dug, by which water could be brought from the Nile.
The enterprise thus brought to a happy ending, has already proved of great
service to the worid. It raust be looked upon not raerely as a benefit to com-

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3O

FERDINAND DE LESSEPS 339
merce, but as one of the many powerful agents now at work binding the nations
closer togethen It is indissolubly connected with the name of De Lesseps, and
had he been contented with the fortune and the reputation gained by his work
in forwarding the canal, fevv names would have shone brighter in the list of those
who have helped on raan's raaterial well-being. But in an evil hour he was per
suaded to lend his support to the Panama Canal scheme, and along with the
ruined fortunes and ruined reputations sunk in that abyss, the name and fort*une
of De Lesseps and his faraily have suffered irretrievable blight.
The Panama Canal was not first proposed in our day ; the scheme is as old
as the discovery of the isthraus. "The early navigators," says J. C. Rodrigues,
" could not help noticing how near to each other were the two oceans, and how
coraparatively easy would be (they thought) the cutting of a canal through that
narrow strip of land between thera. The celebrated Portuguese navigator An
tonio Galvao, as early as 1550, wrote an essay on the subject wherein he sug
gested four different lines, one of which vvas through the Lake of Nicaragua, and
another by the Isthraus of Panaraa." England, in 1779, was the first to raake an
atterapt to control the river and lake comraunications, but her forces sent under
Nelson to begin the work were driven away by the terrible fever that has thus far
been the best defence of the isthraus frora attack. Various scheraes were enter
tained by other nations, but, although the United States kept a jealous eye upon
its own interests in the enterprise, it was not until the discovery of gold in Cali
fornia that it saw a vital reason for insisting upon its pararaount clairas, and the
outbreak of the Civil War, with its threats of European intervention, made an
easier comraunication vvith the rising States of the Pacific Coast seera an absolute
necessity. But we moved slowly and with vacillating steps. We were divided
in opinion as to the best route to take, as to the sort of canal that was desirable,
as to the advisability of building any canal. When the war vvas over, the rapid
increase of railroad comraunication with the Pacific Coast made public opinion
still raore indifferent to the enterprise. Meanwhile the French had started
with great energy a scherae for a canal at Panama, and De Lesseps had
been induced to lend his name to the scheme, and to take an active part in
carrying it out. For this purpose he visited the LInited States and used his
best diplomatic arts to induce our Governraent to unite with hira in his plans.
But he could do nothing on this side the water and returned to France to fight
the battle alone. There the interest in the scheme, artificially excited by specula
tors and still further aided by the efforts of De Lesseps and his friends, increased
to such an extent as to swamp all considerations of prudence. The narae of De
Lesseps, consecrated by the brilliant success of Suez, proved to be a powerful
charm. Thousands and tens of thousands of people in the cities and in the coun
try put the hard-earned savings of vears into the venture ; senators, deputies, men
of high social rank in public life, shamelessly sold their votes and their voices to
secure the moral aid and the raoney of the state to aid their garabling enterprise,
and the newspaper press of Paris, at all tiraes venal, betrayed for bribes the trust
that was reposed in it.

340

WORKMEN AND HEROES

Such a state of things could not last forever. The end, long prophesied,
came at last ; the exposure was complete, and the whole stupendous scherae of
fraud was unmasked. Soraething raight have been saved from the wreck had
the canal itself been a real thing so far as it had gone, a practical enterprise, sure
in time to pay its investors and serve the public. But it was found that every
thing connected with the construction of the canal had been grossly misrepre
sented ; the estimates of expense ; the reports of the engineering difficulties to be
overcome ; the dangers from the climate ; the bills of mortality ; everything, in
short, was enveloped in a cloud of lies. So great was the shock to public confi
dence that foUovv^ed this exposure, that for a tirae the Republic itself seeraed in
danger of overthrow. The eyes of the world vvere fixed upon De Lesseps and
his son Charles as the chief authors of the mischief, and when the crisis was
passed, and the smoke of the upheaval had passed away, the Panama Canal was
seen to be a ruined enterprise, and buried deep underneath it was the once-hon
ored name of Ferdinand De Lesseps.

(^^^^-Tr^<.

t-

GENERAL JOHN C. FREMONT*

By Jane Marsh Parker

(i 8 1 3-1 890)

/ ' "¦""" - J N these days of rapid transit between New York and
' ' -i- San Francisco, of luxurious travel across desert and
mountain, the story of John Charles Fremont, the Path
finder of the great West, is of peculiar interest, a striking
Ulustration that the history of the world is in the bio
graphy of its leaders, in the pathfinders of the unexplored.
The stormy tide of the French Revolution sent the
father of John Charles Frdmont to the New World about
the time, presumably, when Napoleon Bonaparte vvas in
the height of powen This M. Fremont carae of a good
family living near Lyons, France. A British man-of-war
made prize of the ship in vvhich he sailed for San Do
mingo, and he was carried prisoner to one of the British West India islands, his
caprivity lasting several years. Upon gaining his liberty he stopped at Norfolk,
Va., to refill an empty purse as a; teacher of French, and there met Anne Bev
erly Whiting, a leading belle of an old Virginia family, who became his wife.
One of the illustrious conneerions of the Whitings was that with the family
* Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

GENERAL JOHN C. FREMONT 341
of George Washington. M. Fremont's raarked fondness for travel and advent
ure was shared by his wife. They took long journeys through the wild southern
country, stopping at Indian villages, often sleeping by carap-fires. On one of
these expeditions, when making a halt at Savannah, Ga., John Charles, their first
child, was born, January 21, 1813. M. Fremont died a few years after.
The boyhood of John Charles was spent in Charleston. It is well to re
member, in a study of his life, his French blood and early southern environment.
His first choice of a profession was the law. At the age of fourteen he became
a student in the office of John W. Mitchell, who placed him under a private
tutor. Dr. Roberton, who understood the lad thoroughly and developed his char
acter in the right direction. Dn Roberton seems to have first discovered what;
was made plain in Freraont's after-life — the raakings of a poet, and the foresight
of a prophet. Translating the story of the battle of Marathon in the Greek
class, young Fremont catches the spirit with which it was told by Herodotus,
and writes verses in protest of tyranny which are published in one of the Charles
ton papers. "In one year," wrote his tutor, " he had read four books of Caesar ;
Cornelius Nepos ; SaUust ; six books of Virgil ; nearly all of Horace, and two
books of Livy. In Greek — all of Graeea Minora, about half of the first volume of
Grseca Majora, and four books ofthe Iliad." At fifteen he enters the junior class
of Charleston College. At sixteen he is confirmed in the Episcopal Church,
entertaining at that time thoughts of entering the ministry. His steady progress
is interrupted by his first love affair ; his absorbing passion so gets the better of
his common sense, that he neglects his books and classes and is expelled from
college. We next find him teaching higher raatheraatics, acting as private tutor,
and devoting his evenings to the charge of the Apprentice s Library, a school in
Charleston. At twenty years of age he received the appointraent of teacher of
mathematics, and his long connection with the United States Array had its
beginning ; his post the sloop of war Natchez. He was to go on a cruise of
two years and more along the coast of South America. Here was a chance for
him to unfit himself for further advancement, but he improved his time upon the
cruise to the utmost, and his diligent scholarship won for hira the double degree
of bachelor and raaster of arts from the college from which he had been ex
pelled. His application for a mathematical professorship in the Navy resulted
in his passing the severe examination, and in an appointraent to the frigate Inde
pendence. He declined the office, however, having decided to becorae an en
gineer, to join Captain WiUiams's survey of the mountain passes between South
Carolina and Tennessee. There was talk of a railroad between Charleston and
Cincinnati in those days.
That was Fremont's first experience in exploring expeditions. The corps
lived chiefly in carap. The survey was in wild raountainous regions of the un
explored South, araong Indians sullen against the Government Freraont liked
this kind of a life. He enlisted under Captain Williaras the second tirae in
1837, as assistant engineer, going with him upon a railitary reconnoissance of the
Cherokee country in Georgia, North Carolina, and Tennessee. A vvar cloud vvas

342 WORKMEN AND HEROES
rising; the peril ofthe expedition vvas its charm to Fremont "St. Louis was
then on the border of an iramense and almost unexplored Indian country. The
caravans of merchandise going through it to Santa F6, ran all the risks you can
read of among Bedouins in the desert ; the hunters and trappers, as well as the
merchants, started off into the unknown with only one certainty, that danger
was there ; and when they came back — if they ever did — it was as from under
world." *
About this tirae a distinguished French geographer, M. Nicollet, was sent to
this country by France to explore the sources of the Mississippi, " in the inter
ests of geography." The United States were also interested in the geography of
the almost unknown Northwest. M. NicoUet was appointed to make explora
tions for the United States, and Fremont was honored with the position of prin
cipal assistant. It was high time that something should be done in the interests
of a geography raade up largely from travellers' tales. That there was a great
river, the Buena Y^entura, running from the base of the Rocky Mountains to the
Bay of San Francisco, nobody doubted, for there it was upon the raap. The
exploration of M. Nicollet, assisted by Freraont, awakened great interest They
were absent two years ; their field, the territory between the Missouri and the
upper rivers, as far north as the British line. Their report was awaited with ira
patience. Fremont came home to find that he had been appointed second lieu
tenant of the United States Topographical Engineers. As a scientific explorer
his fame was established. The year following his return he spent in Washington
with M. Nicollet, preparing his report for publication. Among those raost
deeply interested was Senator Benton, of Missouri, " Tom Benton," as he was
popularly called, and " Old BuUion." Benton's hobby was the opening of a road
for imraigrants to the Pacific coast, as a necessary step to the acquisition of the
territory held by Mexico — the California of to-day. Senator Benton's interest in
the report of the young engineer, then about twenty-seven years of age, was sur
passed by the young engineer's interest in the senator's daughter, Jessie, then
only fifteen, an interest which ended in a betrothal contrary to the wishes of older
heads, owing to Miss Benton's youth and young Freraont's connection with the
army. The young engineer received an unexpected and unwelcome order, send
ing him to the wild frontier of Iowa at once, where the Sacs and Foxes, it w^as
thought by Senator Benton (who had a hand in his exile), might be made to help
postpone the marriage, at least But banishment and red-skins were of no avail
in breaking the engageraent.
Frdmont performed his duty to the letter, returned to Washington,, and mar
ried Miss Benton, October 19, 1841 — a " runaway match" which happily brought
life-long happiness to both parties — Mrs. Fremont becoraing the connecting
link, to use her own words, between her father's " fixed idea of the importance of
the speedy acquisition of the Pacific coast, and its actualization through the man
best fitted to be the pioneer of the undertaking."
Less than a year after his marriage, in the summer of 1842, Fremont was sent
* Souvenirs of my Time. Jessie Benton Fremont.

GENERAL JOHN C. FREMONT 343
by the War Department on the first of the five expeditions which gave him
the name of Pathfinder.
The Mexican War was ripening fast England had at that tirae financial
clairas upon Mexico, and Mexico was bankrupt
How to get California was a serious question, reminding United States diplo
matists of the old Quaker's advice to his son — " Get money, Joseph, get money.
Get it honestly if you can — but get it." Acquisition of California by settlement
was vigorously encouraged. The best routes across the mountains raust be dis
covered and surveyed. Partial explorations of routes to Oregon and California
had been raade. Emigrants had crossed the Rockies and were settled in the
Sacramento Valley. But the geography of the Great Basin was inaccessible to
science ; the best and safest routes were only guessed at Emigration was
checked by rumors of perils, alas ! too true. Fremont's order to go to the fron
tier beyond the Mississippi, was changed at his request for soraething raore defi
nite — the exploration of the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains.
August 8, 1842, he reached the South Pass, and then the unexplored was
before him — untrodden ground. Kit Carson was his guide ; twenty-eight men
made up his party — Canadian voyageurs, picked men, well mounted and armed —
only eight of the expedition driving wagons. Randolph Benton, a lad of twelve,
Freraont's brother-in-law, was one ofthe numben The great event of this expedi
tion, so' full of thrilling adventure, was the first ascent of that highest peak of the
Wind River Mountains, now called Fremont's Peak, 13,570 feet in height " We
mounted the barometer in the snow of the summit," Frdmont wrote, " and fixing
a rararod in the crevice, unfurled the national flag where never flag waved be
fore. . . . While we were sitting on the rock a solitary humble-bee came
winging its flight from the eastern valley, and lit on the knee of one of the raen."
They run a cailon in the Platte, singing a Canadian boat-song for all the peril.
Their boat is whirled over, food, araraunition, and valuable records
lost. Climbing up and out of the canon, they admire the scenery in spite of their
forlornity. . . . cacti and bare feet, hunger and thirst. . . . but astronom
ical and barometrical observations and drawings are made, botanical specimens
collected, and a mass of information, making the report of this expedition •'¦ vvhat
has been called the most enduring monument of Fremont's fame. The report
was hailed in England as well as the United States, ancl was followed by an in
crease of the wagon-trains across the mountains via the South Pass.
The first expedition was absent some six months. Freraont's Peak marks
the western point of that journey.
The next order from the Government sent Fremont, in the spring of 1843, to
begin exploring where he had left off in 1842 ; to connect his survey with that of
Commodore Wilkes on the Pacific coast Kit Carson vvas • again his guide ;
many of the previous expedition enlisted, 32 men in all. Across the forks of the
Kansas the route lay west of Fort Laramie, through the Medicine Butte Pass and
the South Pass to the northern end of Great Salt Lake. Fremont's report of
* Fremont's Oregon and California. (1849.)

344 WORKMEN AND HEROES
this region led the Mormons to settle at Salt Lake afterward, believing they
would be in Mexican territory. The record of this expedition, like the preceding
one, is a story of fearful suffering and heroic endurance. It is given in detail in
Fremont's " Memoirs," and Benton's "Thirty Years in the Senate." Deep snows
on the mountains, no sign of the Buena Ventura River, Indians refusing to guide
such a foolhardy venture ; "skeleton men leading skeleton horses ; " the descent
into the Sacramento Valley at last, and the arrival at Fort Vancouver, Noveraber
1843, gives but a glirapse of the heroisra of this second expedition. The suffer
ing endured in reaching the coast was as nothing to that of the return through
the great valley between the Rockies and the Sierra Nevada, looking for the
river they were the first to prove did not exist at all. Frora San Francisco back
to Salt Lake, three thousand five hundred miles in eight months, not once out of
the sight of snow. Geography had gained an important fact — the Colorado was
the only river flowing frora the Rocky Mountains on that part of the continent
For eight months not a word had been heard frora the party, at the East, and then
Freraont came home "thin as a shadow," and Mrs. Fremont could tell him that
she might have prevented his going at all had she chosen, for an order from
Washington, countermanding the expedition, had been received by her addressed
to her husband, soon after his departure from St. Louis. The expedition was not
too far away when the despatch came for her to get it to him, but she decided to
withhold it. Because he had taken a mountain howitzer in his outfit he was or
dered to stay at home. What a scientific expedition could want of a howitzer
was not plain to the authorities, who seemed to think that hostile Indians knew
at sight the difference between a military and a scientific party and would respect
it. Mrs. Fremont tells the story in The Century for March, 1891, how she
not only did not send on the despatch, but a messenger instead, bidding Fremont
"Go on at once without asking why," so fearful was she a duplicate order raight
defeat his going at all.
General Scott was Commander in Chief of our Army in 1845. ^t his in
stance Lieutenant Fremont was raade captain in the United States Array, and in
the fall of that year was sent by the Government on another expedition . . .
this time to find the best road to the Pacific coast Trouble with Mexico was
growing fast. Our southwestern territory needed looking after ; the northwest
ern of Mexico as well. Fremont was to follow the Arkansas River to its source
in the Rocky Mountains, explore the Great Basin, the Cascades, and the Sierra
Nevada, and define a route in a southern latitude for eraigrants. Kit Carson was
among the sixty men of this party, and several veterans of the two former expedi
tions. They struck out for the Sierra by the way of the Humboldt Riven The
war with Mexico broke out soon after their departure.
It was another story of fearful hardship — the Sacramento A'alley was reached
at last, and Fr(^mont hastened to Monterey to get permission from the Mexican
authorities to make a scientific exploration of the region. His request was
granted, and perraission given to replenish his exhausted 'supplies. Why the Gov
ernment revoked this permission almost as soon as granted, orderino- him and his

fe

GENERAL JOHN C. FREMONT 345
men to quit the country at once or they would be sent as prisoners to Mexico, is
a source of much controversy between historians of that day and this. Freraont
could not retreat into the desert with his scanty outfit. A rude fort was built
at once on Hawk's Peak, sorae thirty railes frora Monterey, and the Stars and
Stripes flung out, Freraont and his men ready to take the consequences of such
defiance. When they withdrew, as they did in a few days, overtures frora the
Mexicans followed them, even a proposition from the Spanish officer that F'rd-
mont should join with him and declare the country independent of Mexico.
Fremont moved northward. He had reached Tlamath Lake when overtaken by
a special messenger frora Washington, the bearer of a despatch vvhich had been
raeraorized by the raessenger to prevent its falling into the hands of the Mexi
cans, and which Freraont interpreted to mean that it was the wish of the Cabinet
that he should aid in taking and holding California, in the event of any occur
rence which he thought justification for so doing. The English raust not
strengthen their foothold on the coast. Someone must look after the interest
of the United States ; he was on the ground. If a crisis came he must act with
out written authority, proraptly and discreetly — " Get it honestly if you can —
but get it." He returned at once to California, and found it in a revolutionary
state. The American settlers had hoisted what vvas called the Bear Flag, and
were eager to fight for the overthrow of the Mexican authority in California.
It is a long story, that of the conquest of California. Fremont's right to be
called the Conqueror or the Emancipator is bitterly disputed by sorae, who claim
that he attacked the Californians by irregular warfare, and so thwarted the con
ciliatory designs of the Governraent. Be that as it raay, by July 5, 1846, the
Bear Flag insurgents under Freraont had declared their independence of Mexico,
and Freraont had been appointed Governor of CaUfornia, and had hauled down
the Bear Flag and raised the Stars and Stripes. A constitution had been drawn
up and the territory declared to be in the possession of the United States. Jan
uary, 1847, "the enemy" capitulated to Fremont. "The celerity and boldness
of his movements in the conduct of the affair were only surpassed," says a con
temporary, "by the raoderation and cleraency of his policy." "The decisive
point," wrote George Bancroft, " in the establishment of the Union on a firm
basis had been gained."
The seizure of California in 1846 has been called, from another outlook, "one
of the least creditable affairs in the highly discreditable Mexican \Van" and Fre
mont nothing more than a filibuster seeking private ends. California had been
made ours, nevertheless, and Fremont had secured the prize.
In the meantime the Mexican War had begun, and Commodore Stockton,
of the U. S. Navy, was hastening to California by sea under orders to subjugate
the country. General Kearney was marching westward by land under like or
ders. Of course there was a dispute about precedence when both were upon the
ground, each asserting his right to command the other, both issuing orders and
insisting upon the right to precedence. The difficulty of serving under two mas
ters 'was experienced by Fremont. General \"allejo testified that he received in

3.^(3 WORKMEN AND HEROES
one day letters frora Coraraodore Stockton, General Kearney, and Colonel Free
mont, each signing himself "Commander-in-Chief." Fremont believed he had
sufficient reason for choosing to serve under Stockton, which he did. Upon
Stockton's return to his squadron and Kearney's assignment to full comraand,
Kearney brought charges against Fremont for mutiny and fraud, defeating his
re-appointment as governor of the State besides. Frdraont vvas ordered home,
and it was said " that, like Columbus, he returned from the discovery and conquest
of a new worid, a prisoner and in disgrace" He went back to Washington
under arrest Great honors awaited him, nevertheless, his troubles only adding
to his laurels. The citizens of Charieston gave hira a sword, the ladies the gold-
mounted belt of the same. He demanded immediate trial, which was granted,
the court-martial lasting three months, his defence fiUing three sessions. Hewas
pronounced guilty of mutiny, disobedience of the lawful comraand of a superior
officer, and conduct to the prejudice of good order and military discipline— a
conviction based, some said, upon technical grounds. President Polk remitted
the penalty— dismissal from the array — but Fremont resigned at once, the Pres
ident reluctantly accepting his resignation.
Fremont was then thirty-four years old. As the leader of three great explor
ing expedirions he had become not only famous, but a popular hero. He had
done rauch for science. He had made the most accurate raap of the region be
tween the one hundred and fourth meridian and the Pacific. He had added a large
collecrion of botanical, geological, and other specimens to the national rauseuras.
He was eager to resurae explorations of routes to the Pacific, having decided to
settle his family in CaUfornia — upon the Mariposa estate, in the Sacramento VaUey,
which he had bought in 1847, before the discovery of gold, seventy square raUes,
for $3,000, " the only Mexican grant that covered any part of the gold regions."
Fremont's claims against the Governraent for expenses incurred in the eon-
quest and defence of California, amounted to sorae $700,000, which was paid to
hira. Araong those advocating the payment were Senators Benton, and Dix of
New York. Twenty thousand copies of Freraont's map of Oregon and Califor
nia were ordered by the Senate.
It was by no raeans in the role of a defeated raan that he started out upon
his fourth expedition, in the fall of 1848 — when the gold fever vvas at its height
— a venture of his own and Colonel Benton's ; its object, a route to the Pacific by
way of the Rio Grande. Thirty-two raen were enlisted, picked men as before.
It was a superb and costly outfit, no less than one hundred and twenty raules.
Lacking Kit Carson for a guide, they were lost in crossing the Rocky Mountains,
every raule and horse and one-third of the men perishing from cold or starvation.
At last, as he wrote horae, " the raules, huddled together in the deep snovv^ froze
stiff as they stood and fell over like blocks." The freezing raen recrossed the
suramit in retreat, sorae of thera driven to cannibalism. Wading through the
snow to the waist, the reranant reached the home of Kit Carson at Taos, N. M.,
vvhere Fremont reorganized the expedition, reaching the Sacramento in the
spring of 1849.

GENERAL JOHN C. FREMONT 347
Litigation concerning his title to the 'Mariposa estate did not prevent Fre
mont from developing its raineral and agricultural resources. He engaged some
twenty-eight Spaniards to work its gold mines upon shares. His prospects of
boundless wealth were most flattering. The Pathfinder vvas novv a millionaire,
and in 1855 his title to Mariposa was* established by the Supreme Court Fol
lowing his appointment in 1849 to run the boundary line between the United
States and Mexico, the political party of the Territory seeking its admission as a
free State, elected hira to the United States Senate. Many honors were be
stowed upon him at this time — the medal of the Royal Geographical Society of
London, the Founders medal frora the King of Prussia, an honorary raerabership
of the Geographical Society of Berlin, etc.
In the California State election of 1851, Fremont stood with the Anti-Slaverv
party, opposed to the extension of slavery in free territories. He vvas defeated,
and went to Europe vvith his family in 1852, where he was feted by royalty gen
erally. Mrs. Fremont, in her " Souvenirs of My Time," has given charraing
glirapses of this part of their life. Hearing that Congress had made appropria
tion for further surv^eys of great Western routes, Fremont hastened horae in 1853,
to explore by a fifth expedition, what he believed to be the most central and
practicable route. This was his seconti private venture. He would follow the
path he had lost when the guide led him astray on his fourth expedition. He
would cross the Rockies at Cochetopa Pass, and that in winter.
He raade the passage, but it was at the cost of frightful suffering ; fifty days
on frozen horse-flesh, days without even that ; forty-eight hours without a morsel
of food ; the entire party barefooted in the snow ; Fremont, in the hour of ex
trerae peril on the storra-swept mountain-side, making his raen take oath that,
come what might, nothing should tempt them to cannibalism. Benton tells us
how Fremont went straight to the spot where the guide had gone astray in 1 848,
and found safe and easy passes all the way to California, upon the straight line
of 38° and 39°. Great railroads of to-day follow the line it took those starving
and half-frozen raen fifty days to pass in that winter of 1854. For three raonths
nothing was heard from the party. Fremont's arrival in San Francisco was an
ovation. " Europe lies between Asia and America," we read in his report ;
" build the road, and America lies between Europe and Asia. . . . The iron
track to San Francisco will be the thoroughfare of the world."
The issues at stake in the presidential campaign of 1856 make that campaign
the most important of any in the history of our country. " The question now
to be decided," said Seward, " is whether a slave-holding class shall govern
America or not." The nomination of John Charles Fr(5mont as the candidate
of the Republican 'party was hailed with enthusiasm at the North. The Civil
War was impending. The lines between the defenders of slavery and its oppo
nents were sharply defined. Fremont was the first norainee of the Republican
party. The romance and adventure of his career, his upright life, the hero-wor
ship of the Pacific coast, the antagonism of the South, gave the canvass a vital
izing force that his defeat by James Buchanan did not lessen, but simply

348 WORKMEN AND HEROES
changed into a new phase of strength. Freraont's popular vote was 1,341,000
against 1,838,000 for Buchanan and 874,000 for Fillmore (Know-Nothing).
Fremont received 114 electoral votes, and Buchanan 174.
When the CivU War broke out, in 1861, Fremont was in Europe. He of
fered his services to the Governraent at once, and was appointed one of the four
major-generals of the regular array, and given his choice of a comraand at the
East or the West He chose the West. " Who holds the Mississippi will hold
the country by the heart," he said. His headquarters were at St Louis, where
secession was rarapant " You must use your own judgment," wrote President
Lincoln, " and do the best you can. I doubt if the States will ever come back."
Fremont's policy differed frora Lincoln's essentially ; it lacked that patient, con
ciliatory spirit with the South which raade it hard for raany at the North to ap
prove of the corapromising policy of the Chief Executive, seeking to hold the neu
tral States frora seceding. Fremont's hatred of the rebellion led him to deal
with it just as he would have done with a mutiny on a perilous expedition. He
proclaimed martial law. Rebels were to pay some penalty for rebellion — rebel
newspapers vvere silenced — and what was the notable feature of Fremont's admin
istration — the slaves of those in arms against the Government were declared eman
cipated ; his emancipation proclamation antedating Lincoln's of September 22,
1862, by a little raore than a year. But Freraont's policy was censured rather
than approved by the country at large. Petty intrigues of officers in close rela
tion with the Cabinet did much to defeat his plans. His fleet of gunboats was
called a useless extravagance — his staff "the California Gang." His emancipa
tion proclaraation was pronounced preraature and unwise by Lincoln, and re
voked. Fremont again was the cause of an intense public partisanship. " Fre
mont's career at the West was brief," says "Patton's Concise History of the
United States," " only one hundred days ; but, being a raan of railitary instincts
and training, he showed in that tirae a sagacity which was not allowed fair practi
cal developraent In that brief tirae- he was the first to suggest and inaugurate
the following practices, then widely decried, but without vvhich the war vvould
not have been successfully concluded : the free use of cavalry (stronglv opposed
by General Scott and others) ; exchange of prisoners with the enemy ; fortifica
tion of large cities, to allow armies to take the field ; building of river gunboats
for the interior operations at the West ; and the emancipation of the slaves. In
short, he contributed more than is generally credited to hira." "To get rid of
Fremont," says Major-General Sigel, " the good prospects and honor of the army
were sacrificed to the jealousy of successful rivals." Freraont was relieved of his
command in 1861, and shortly after appointed commander of the Mountain Dis
trict of Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee, where he did most honorable service,
Stonewall Jackson retrearing before him after eight days' sharp skirmishing, end
ing in the battle of Cross Keys.
Upon the appointment of General Pope as Commander of the Array of Vir
ginia, making him Fremont's superior officer, Fremont asked to be relieved ;
his request was granted.

GENERAL JOHN C. FRfiMONT 349
A minority of the Republican party, the radical wing, opposed to the renorai
nation of Lincoln in 1864, nominated Fremont as their candidate. He accepted,
but finally withdrew. " Not to aid in the. triumph of Lincoln," he said, " but to
do my part toward preventing the election of the Democratic candidate." One
of the Republican candidates would have to retire to save the party. Here is a
subject for debating clubs : Was the interest of the country best served by Fre
mont's withdrawal from the canvass of 1864 ?
After 1864 Fremont took litrie part in public Ufe. He became absorbed in
his great trans-continental railroad scheme of a line from Norfolk to San Diego
and San Francisco, in which he ultimately lost his large fortune. French agents,
in disposing of his bonds in France, made false representations. He was prose
cuted by the French Governriient in 1873, ^^d sentenced by default to fine and
imprisonment, although no judgraent was given on the merits of the case.
The sale of his Mariposa grant brought hira several millions, which he in
vested in railroads soon after the war, buying the properties that now constitute
a large part of the Texas Pacific and other roads belonging to the Atchison
and Santa Fe. In the great consolidation entailed by the foreign litigation, his
confidence was abused, and he raet with heavy and irreparable loss.
From 1878 to 1881 he was Governor of Arizona. His " Meraoirs " appeared
in 1886. The closing years of his life vyere spent in comparative retireraent.
Not long before his sudden death in New York City July 14, 1890, at the
age of seventy-seven years, he had been placed on the retired list of the United
States Array with the rank of Major-General. When he passed away the Path
finder of Africa was filling the public ear — the wedding of Stanley in Westmin
ster Abbey was the theme of the houn
He was buried in Kensico Cemetery, Piermont-on-the-Hudson, about thirty
railes from New York City, near the country home of his prosperous days. His
widow, Jessie Benton Fremont, is at this writing (1893), a resident of Los An
geles, Cal. Three children survive their father, an unraarried daughter, Elizabeth
McDowell Benton, Lieutenant Frank Preston Fremont, U. S. A ; and Lieuten
ant John Charles Fremont, U. S. N. After his death Mrs. Fremont demanded
compensation for, or restitution of the property appropriated by the United
States Government for military purposes in San Francisco harbor, in 1863, and
for which she has never received a dollar (1893). The settlement of this claim
in her favor is anticipated by the bench generally, long as justice to her has been
delayed. At present she has a pension from the Government.
Some profess to find it hard reading the character of John Charles Fremont,
calling it enigmatical and baffling. Not so with those who knew hira best " Flis
unwritten history," writes one of these, " gives the clew to his life."
That he was a raan of indomitable courage none can deny ; a man of lofty
principle and unblemished character. An atmosphere of roraance raakes him the
American Chevalier.
He did more than any other raan to open the pathways to the Pacific coast.
The bitter feeling engendered by the California conquest, and his policy in the

350

WORKMEN AND HEROES

Civil War, is not yet extinct Partisanship has biassed the most of his biogra
phers. The intense feeling underlying the presidential campaign of 1856 did not
conduce to a fair estimate of the man, who has suffered hardly less from the in
tense admiration of his friends than from jealousies of rivals and foes. " I tried
to do my duty," he vv^ould say in his old age, when asked to explain knotty points
about the conquest.
"All that he ever did for the Government," says one who knew hira well,
" was uniformly repaid with injury." That is the verdict of one side of the con
troversy. The sifting and weighing of a mass of conflicting evidence, preceding
the final verdict of permanent history, is not yet ended in Fremont's case. That
the outcorae will be illumination of his farae rather than obscuration, his un
swerving defenders do not doubt.
"Though the Pathfinders die, the paths reraain open."

^W-

A-4W/^ ^^U^^k^-y^

DAVID LIVINGSTONE
By Professor W. G. Blaikie, LL.D.
(1813-1873)

D

AVID Livingstone, raissionary and travel
ler, was born at Blantyre, in Lanarkshire,
March 19, 181 3. His parents, who were in
humble life, were of devout and exeraplarv
character ; his father in particular being a
great reader, especially of travels and mission
ary intelligence, and rauch interested in the
(Enterprise of the nineteenth century. At the
age of ten David became a worker in a cotton-
factory at Blantyre, and continued in that la
borious occupation for fourteen years. His
thirst for knowledge led him to read all that
he could lay his hands on ; he used also to at
tend a night-class, after the long hours of the
factory, for the study of Latin." The reading
of Dick's " Philosophy of a Future State " wa's
not only the means of a profound impression
on his mind, but kindled the desire to devote his life as a missionary to the ser
vice of Christ
Deeply impressed with the advantages of medical training to a missionary, he

DAVID LIVINGSTONE 351
resolved to qualify himself in medicine, as well as the other attainments looked
for in a missionary. The London Missionary Society having accepted the offer
of his services, he went to London to complete his studies. His first desire vv'as
to labor in China, but, war having broken out between that country and Great
Britain, this wisH could not be fulfilled. The Rev. Robert Moffat's visit at this
time to England turned many hearts to Africa — Livingstone's araong the rest ;
ultimately he vvas appointed to that field, and, having been ordained on Novem
ber 20, 1840, he set sail for Africa, reaching Lattakoo or Kururaan, Moffat's set
tlement, on July 31, 1 841.
For several years Livingstone labored as a raissionary in the Bechuana coun
try, at Mabotse, Chonuana, and Kolobeng, places that were chosen by him just
because they were in the heart of heathenism. The conversion of Sechele, chief
of the Bakwains, and several of his tribe, was a great encourageraent. Repulsed
by the Boers in an effort to plant native raissionaries in the Transvaal, he di
rected his steps northward, discovered Lake 'Ngami, and found the country there
traversed by fine rivers and inhabited by a dense population. His anxiety to
benefit this region led finally to his undertaking to explore the whole country
westward to the Atlantic at St. Paul de Loanda, and eastward to the Indian
Ocean at Quiliraane.
Livingstone had married at Mabotse, Mary, eldest daughter 'of the Rev. R.
Moffat, and novv he found it necessary to send her, with their children, to Eng
land, that he might be free for this vast and perilous undertaking. To accom
pUsh it occupied from June 8, 1852, when he left Cape Town, to May 26, 1856,
when he arrived at Quiliraane. This journey was accoraplished with a mere
handful of followers, and a mere pittance of stores, amid sicknesses and other
bodily troubles, perils, and difficulties without nuraber. But a vast amount of
valuable information was gathered respecting the country and its products, its
geography and natural history, the native tribes, the regions that were favorable
to health, and some great natural wonders, such as the Zambesi Falls.
Livingstone, however, found that the London Missionary Society were not
willing that he should be to so' large an extent an explorer, and some time after
returning to Britain he resigned his office as one of their missionaries.
At home Livingstone was welcomed with extraordinary enthusiasm, receiving
the acknowledgments and honors of scientific societies, universities, town coun
cils, and other public bodies in every quarter of the country. In addition to
these tokens of honor, the fifteen months spent at home were signalized by three
things : the writing of his book, " Missionary Travels " (1857), which was received
with the Uveliest interest ; his visit to Cambridge, awakening the enthusiasm of
many of the students, and leading to the formation afterward of the " Universi
ties Mission ; " and his appointment by Her Majesty's Government as chief of an
exp.edition for exploring the Zambesi and its tributaries, and tbe regions adja
cent. On this expedition Livingstone set out on March 10, 1858. While success
ful in manv ways, it led to not a little disappointment Livingstone explored the

352 WORKMEN AND HEROES
Zambesi, the Shire, and the Rovuma ; discovered Lakes Shirvva and Nyassa, and
came to a decided conclusion that Lake Nyassa and its neighborhood was the
best field for both coraraercial and missionary operations. His disappointments
arose frora the grievous defects of a steamer sent out to hira by Governraent ;
frora the death of corarades and helpers, including his wife and 'Bishop Macken
zie ; frora the abandonraent of the Universities Mission ; from the opposition of
the Portuguese authorities ; but mainly from the distressing discovery that, en
couraged by Portuguese traders, the slave-trade was extending in the district, and
the slave-traders using his very discoveries to facilitate their infamous traffic. At
length a despatch recaUing the expedition was received, July 2, 1863. Living
stone, at his own cost, had brought out a new steamer, but she could not be put
on the lake. Depressed though he vvas, he explored the northern banks of Lake
Nyassa on foot ; then in his own vessel, and under his own seamanship, crossed
the Indian Ocean to Bombay ; and after a brief stay there, returned to Britain,
reaching London oil July 23, 1864.
At home Livingstone had two objects — to expose the atrocious deeds of the
Portuguese slave-traders, and to find means of establishing a settlement for mis
sions and coramerce somewhere near the head of the Rovuma, or wherever a
suitable locality could be found. His second book, "The Zambesi and its Tribu
taries" (1865), was designed to further these objects. He was again received
with every deraonstration of honor and regard. A proposal was raade to hira,
on the part of the Royal Geographical Society, to return to Africa and settle a
disputed question regarding the water-shed of Central Africa and the sources of
the Nile. He said he would go only as a raissionary, but was willing to help to
solve the geographical problem.
He set out in August, 1865, via Borabay and Zanziban On March 19, 1866,
he started from the latter place, first of all trying to find a suitable settlement,
then striking westward in order to solve the geographical problem. Through
the ill-behavior of some of his attendants a report of his death was circulated, but
an expedirion, headed by Mn E. D. Young, R. N., ascertained that the report
vvas false. Livingstone pressed westward amid innumerable hardships, and in
1869 discovered Lakes Meoro and Bangweolo. All the while he was doing
what he could for the religious enlightenment of the natives. Obliged to feturn
for rest to Ujiji, vvhere he found his goods squandered, he struck westward again
as far as the river Lualaba, thinking it might possibly be the Nile, but far from
certain that it was not, what it proved afterward to be, the Congo. Returning
after severe illness once more to Ujiji, Livingstone found there, Mn H. M.
Stanley, who had been sent to look for him by the proprietor of the Ncio York-
Herald. But no consideration would induce him to return home till he had
made one more effort to solve the geographical problem.
He returned to Lake Bangweolo, but fell into wretched health. His suffer
ings always increasing, when he reached Chitambo's village in Ilala, he was
obliged to give in. On the morning of May i, 1873, he was found by his attend
ants on his knees, dead. His faithful people erabalraed his body as best they

DAVID LIVINGSTONE ' 353
could, carried it araid the greatest perils to the shore, where it was put on board
a British cruiser, and on April i8, 1874, it vvas buried in Westminster Abbey.
Among the remains brought home were his " Last Journals," brought down
to within a fevv days of his death ; these were published in 1874. Stanley sug
gested the name of Livingstone for the main streara of the Congo (hence the
Baptist Mission on the Lower Congo vvas called the " Livingstone Inland Mis
sion " ), and Mn H. H. Johnston proposed that part of the East African terri
tory acquired by Britain in 1890 — the lower drainage area of the Zarabesi — should
be called Livingstone Land.

The following letter, written by hira to his children in 1853, during his first
exploring tour, gives the character of the man, and shows his deep religious feel
ing :
" Sekeletits Toion, Linyanti, 2d October. — My dear Robert, Agnes, and
Thomas and Osvvell. — Here is another little letter for you all. I should like to
see you rauch raore than write to you, and speak with my tongue rather than
with my pen, but we are far from each other — very, very far. Here are Seipone,
and Meriye, and others who saw you as the first white children they ever looked
at. Meriye came the other day and brought a round basket for Nannie. She
made it of the leaves of the palmyra. Others put me in raind of you all by call
ing me Rananee, Rarobert, and there is a little Thomas in the town, and when I
think of you I remember, though I ara far off, Jesus, our good and gracious
Jesus, is ever near both you and rae, and then I pray to Him to bless you and
make you good.
"He is ever near. Remember this if you feel angry or naughty. Jesus is
near you, and sees you, and He is so good and kind. When He was among
men, those who heard him speak said, ' Never man spake like this man,' and we
now say, ' Never did man love like Him.' You see little Zouga is carried on
mamma's bosom. You are taken care of by Jesus with as much care as mamma
takes care of Zouga. He is always watching you and keeping you in safety. It
is very bad to sin, to do any naughty things, or speak angry or naughty words
before Him.
" My dear children, take Him as your Guide, your Helper, your Friend, and
Saviour through life. Whatever you are troubled about, ask Him to keep you.
Our God is good. We thank Him that we have such a Saviour and Friend as
He is. Now you are little, but you will not always be so, hence you must learn
to read, and write, and work. All clever raen can both read and write, and
Jesus needs clever raen to do His work. Would you not like to vvork for Him
among raen? Jesus is wishing to send His gospel to all nations, and He needs
clever men to do this. Would you like to serve Him? Well, you raust learn
now, and not get tired learning. After sorae time you will like learning better
than playing, but you must play too in order to raake your bodies strong and be
able to serve Jesus.
23

354 WORKMEN AND HEROES
" I am glad to hear that you go to the academy. I hope you are learning
fast. Don't speak Scotch. It is not so pretty as English. Is the Tau learning
to read with mamma ? I hope you are all kind to mamraa. I saw a poor
woraan in a chain with many others, up at the Barotse. She had a little child,
and both she and her child vvere very thin. See how kind Jesus was to you.
No one can put you in chains unless you become bad. If, however, you learn
bad wa}^s, beginning only by saying bad words or doing little bad things, Satan
will have you in chains for sin, and you will be hurried on in his bad ways till
you are put into the dreadful plaee which God hath prepared for him and all who
are like him. Pray to Jesus to deliv^er you from sin, give you new hearts, and
make you His children. Kiss Zouga, mamma, and each other for me.
" Your ever affectionate fathen"

CYRUS W. FIELD*

By Murat Halstead

(1819-1892)

w

E, the people of the United States,
have been celebrating wdth memor
able pomp the discovery of our hemi-
.sphere by Christopher Colurabus, and the
elder nations and far - off islands have
joined us in an iramense festivity, honor
ing beyond all example of approbation
an adventure that was a marvel, and an
achievement that is iramortal.
All the world remembers the voyage
of Colurabus, that, persevered in through
trials and perils, ended in triumph — how
he studied the stars and the charts, and
out of the dreams of ages wove the fabric
of fancy that grew to theory, and proph
ecy, and history, that there was land be
yond the Atlantic ; and there is no mo
ment in human life supreme above, or of
raore fascinating interest than, that when,
frora the deck of his caravel he saw the
light on the shore of the new worid.
.\n incident worthy to be associated for ev^er with this, is that of Cyrus West
Field, in his library, turning over a globe, after a conversation relative to ex-
¦' Copyright, 1894, by .Selmar Hess.

CYRUS W. FIELD 355
tending a line of telegraph to Newfoundland, to reduce the time of the trans
mission of news between Europe and America ; when the idea flashed into his
mind that the telegraph might span the Atlantic. The next day Mn Field vvrote
to Lieutenant Maury, of the National Observatory at Washington, and to Pro
fessor Morse, who invented the telegraph.
The Atlantic telegraph was as truly the conception and the accomplishment
of Mn Field, as the discovery of America was the ambition and the act of Co
lurabus ; and Chief Justice Chase was not extravagant when he said the telegraph
across the ocean was "the raost wonderful achieveraent of civilization," and en
titled " its author to a distinguished rank among benefactors ; " or when he
added : " High upon that iUustrious roU will his name be placed, and there will
it remain while oceans divide and telegraphs unite mankind." John Bright said :
"My friend Field, the Colurabus of modern times, by his cable has moored the
New World alongside the Old."
Equally lofty testimony to the splendor of his farae is that of the London
Times of August 6, 1858, saying: " Since the discovery of Columbus, nothing
has been done in any degree comparable to the vast enlargeraent which has thus
been given to the sphere of human activity."
From the first vital spark that at last glows into the bloom of life, each hu
man being is endowed with certain qualities and capacities, aptitudes, inspirations,
possibilities, limitations ; and if one trace the stream of blood to its reraotest
sources, there is no inconsistency in ancestry, and the science of humanity may
be as strict within its boundaries as that of geology, or the story of fruitful trees,
or the magnetic constellations.
The four faraous brothers have given the Field faraily an alraost unique celeb
rity in this country. They were the sons of the Rev. David Dudley Field, of
Western Massachusetts, the roora-mate at Yale College of Jereraiah Evarts,
father of Williara M. Evarts. Field and Evarts entered college together in 1798,
and graduated in 1802. The Araerican Fields are the descendants of John Field,
the astronoraer of Ardsley, in Yorkshire, vvho gained a great reputation by pub
lishing astronoraical tables, and died in 1587. Ardsley, it has not passed from
the general recollection, was the name of the estate on the Hudson where for so
raany years Mr. Cyrus W. Field made his suramer home.
The family narae was in the fifteenth century changed frora Feld, Fcild, Felde,
and Fielde, into its present form ; and John Field, the astronomer, was the first to
introduce the Copernican system in England, and he received a patent in 1558, au
thorizing him to bear as a crest over his family arms, an arm issuing from clouds
and supporting a globe. Dr. Richard Field, chaplain of Queen Elizabeth, was
of the same family, and author of the " Book of the Church," republished in four
volumes at Oxford in 1843.
It was the last day of auturan, Noveraber 30, 1819, at the Morgan Place, on
a hill that sloped to the river, near Stockbridge, Mass., that Cyrus West Field
vvas born. There vvere three older brothers — David Dudley, Timothy Beale, and
Matthew Dickinson. The Cyrus came frora a man of note in the town, named

356 WORKMEN AND HEROES
Cyrus Williams, and the West from Dn Stephen West, the predecessor of Dn
David Dudley Field in the pulpit at Stockbridge. It is said of the child that he
was of very delicate organization, so weak and frail that his body " had to be
supported by a frame in which he could roll around the room till his limbs could
get strength to bear hira." There was, however (as his younger brother, Dr.
Henry M. Field, the historian of the faraily, says in his vigorous English),
" a nervous energy and elasticity deriv^ed frora his raother," that brought him
up, and " once set upon his little feet, he developed by incessant motion," and he
was noted for " restless activity," a characteristic of his whole life. His frame,
always slight, " became tough and wiry, capable of great effort and great endur
ance." Cyrus was the one of the Field boys who did not go to college. When
fifteen years of age, his brother, David Dudley, who was nearly fifteen years his
senior, and lived until his ninetieth year, secured a place for him in the store
of A. T. Stewart. Cyrus was a thorough country boy, and his mother's boy, and
did not take kindly to the city at first. Dn Field says : " I well remember hear
ing my brother Matthew tell mother how Cyrus had come down to the boat on
which he left the city, and wept bitterly ; and raother telling him, the next time
he went to New York, if his little brother felt so still, to bring him home." Mr.
Field soon grew tired of being a clerk, and launched out in the manufacture and
sale of paper. His capital was his brains — and in twelve years, when he was but
thirty-three years old, he was in possession of a handsome fortune, and thought of
retiring. This, however, was only a phase of restlessness, and he had before him
nearly forty years of extraordinary activity. His great works and trials, his
counting his gains and losses by millions, his glory and his sorrows, were all be
fore him. The first of his many long journeys was to South America, with the
artist Church, who painted for hira the " Heart of the Andes." He ascended
the Magdalena River, climbed the Andes to Bogota, crossed to Quito, and by
way of Guayaquil, in Ecuador, reached the western coast, and returned home
October, 1853, in time for the golden wedding of his parents. Then he set about
the task of retirement from business, and was in a feverish state of energy upon
that subject, and drifted into the twelve years harassing struggle, from the time
when, in his house in Graraercy Park, he sat alone and turned over the globe,
and thought of a telegraphic cable through the Adantic, untU the treraendous
task was gloriously finished. After wriring to Maury and Morse, Mn Field
called in his next-door neighbor, Peter Cooper ; and next called Moses Taylor,
who listened for an hour without saying a word ; and brought in his raost inti
mate friend, Marshall O. Roberts ; and then Mn Chandler White (who died the
next year and was succeeded by Wilson G. Hunt). They organized " The New
York, Newfoundland and London Telegraph Company," Field, Cooper, Tay
lor, and Roberts putting in $20,000 each, and White a smaUer sum. Field and
White, with David Dudley Field as legal adviser, set forth for Newfoundland to
get a charter, and caUed it a fishing excursion. They got a land donation, and
an exclusive right to land cable for fifty years. There vvas first to build a line
of telegraph four hundred miles through the wilderness, across the huge island.

CYRUS W. FIELD 357
The land-line work lasted three years, and each of the parties who started by
putting in $20,000, put in ten times that amount, and Field rauch more. The
first cable across the Gulf of St Lawrence was a failure. The second one held ;
and at last there rolled two thousand miles of tempestuous ocean, with a bottom
that was a mystery, between the verge of the Araerican soil and the Irish coast
Mr. Cyrus W. Field visited England as an Atlantic cable raissionary, and
addressed the Chambers of Commerce in the principal cities, and the merabers
of the Government. His intense convictions and incessant enthusiasra raade
way. The scientific men of England were cautious but hopeful. There had
been, as it happened, the year before a survey of the North Atlantic, disclosing
conditions of the bottom of the sea, and they were reassuring. The Govern
ment was so far interested as to engage to furnish ships to lay the cable, and to
guarantee ^14,000 a year for messages sent if it proved a success — four per cent.
of the expected cost ; but the capital had to be raised by private enterprise, and
Mr. Field visited Glasgow, Birminghara, Manchester, and Liverpool, and sub
scribed one-fourth of the whole sura. His persistence was continued until the
money was raised ; but his friends in America were not eager for the stock, and
he had to pay into the treasury of the company ^88,000 in gold. The complete
responsibility of Mr. Field appears at every point. He was the inspiration and
the moving force from first to last. The work was strange, and there were de-
lavs and details of difficulty arising at every step, that a thousand tiraes would
have been insurraountable, if it had not been for the indoraitable Field, whose
tenacity even exceeded his impetuosity. There were two governraents to be
negotiated with to furnish ships. The cable was at last ready and on board —
and three hundred and sixty-five years after Colurabus sailed frora the shores of
Spain, Field sailed from Ireland, the Lord-Lieutenant, the Earl of Carlisle, mak
ing the speech of the occasion. The first effort vvas to lay the cable straight
from Ireland to Newfoundland, and the start was made Wednesday, August 5,
1857. Three hundred and fifty miles out the cable broke. That was failure;
and Field's private fortune had suffered severely frora his absence. But the next
year he was again in England and another start was raade — the ships going half
way and joining the cable and running both ways. The cable parted again and
again, and the ships -returned to England. All vvere in despair but Field, and he
rallied once raore, and another trial was made — and succeeded. The cable
lasted for a few weeks and gave out. The people were wild vvith delight at the
success, and utterly cast down and disgusted by the failure. But the proof was
out ; the thing could be done. Cables had been laid in the Mediterranean, and
final success was in sight. A new cable was raade and coiled on the Great East
ern — and when starting frora Ireland and one thousand two hundred and fifty
miles were out, there was a break where the ocean was two miles deep, and a
year was lost Then another cable on the Great Eastern, and in 1866 it held
out all the way over. This was the year of the war between Prussia and Austria,
just after the battle of Sadowa. The next thing was to find and splice the lost
cable of the year before, and that was done, one of the most wonderful things

358 WORKMEN AND HEROES
that ever happened. Mn Field told the story before the Chamber of Com
merce of New York in November, 1866, saying, after the lost cable was found
and spliced : " A few minutes of suspense and a flash told of the lightning cur
rent again set free — sorae turned their heads away and wept, others broke into
cheers. Soon the wind arose and we were for thirty-six hours exposed to all the
dangers of a storra on the Atlantic ; yet in the fury of the gale, as I sat in the
electrician's roora, a flash of light carae up frora the deep, which, having passed
to Ireland, came back to me in mid-ocean, teUing that those so dear to me, whora
I had left on the banks of the Hudson, were weU, and following us with their
prayers. This was like a whisper of God frora the sea, bidding rae keep heart
and hope."
The Great Eastern safely landed the second cable, and the two worlds were
safely forev^er joined. Mn Field said he had often, in the long struggle — nearly
thirteen years in the forests of Newfoundland, on ships in storray seas — alraost
accused hiraself of madness, sacrificing everything for what raight prove, after
all, but a dream. He received the thanks of Congress, with a gold raedal — the
grand medal of the French Exposition of 1867. Honors were heaped upon him.
If he had been a British subject, he would have been made a baronet He had
given twelve years without accepting remuneration for time or toil, and his hope
ful, at last haggard dream, was a raarvellous golden reality.
He was forty-seven years of age. He visited Egypt at the opening of the
Suez Canal in 1864. He attended the raillennial celebration of the settlement
of Iceland in August, 1874. He made with his wife a trip around the world in
1880. He was known in all civUized lands as one of the foremost men of his
tirae. All the people of the highest distinction in England knew and adraired
hira as the most typical and celebrated of Americans. Mr. Gladstone, Mr. John
Bright, the Duke of Argyle, Dean Stanley were his intimate friends. His house
at Graraercy Park was the scene of a splendid hospitality. There gathered in his
ample parlors, stored vvith souvenirs from every land, and in his dining-room,
raen and woraen of the highest consideration at horae and abroad.
The keenness of his intelligence had increased with his unprecedented ex
perience. His triuraphs had given hira confidence in his executive ability, and
there was nothing too daring for him to contemplate. His bitter lessons in
going to the verge of ruin, when he gave the fortune of his youth to the enter
prise that he carried to success, were amply pondered, and he resolved never again
to allow those near and dear to hira to take the chances of cruel fortune and the
anxieties of impending want
When his years were numbered in the thirries, he was meditaring retireraent
frora business ; and when he was in the sixties, his irrepressible aetivdties carried
him into the development of the elevated railway systera on Manhattan Island,
with the same ardor and fixed purpose with which, thirty years before, he had in
vaded the wUderness of Newfoundland to find a basis of operations for the con
quest of the Atlantic. His faith was undaunted and Avithout limit His touch
revealed new fortunes. He saw that the elevated lines riiat developed Harlem,

CYRUS W. FIELD 359
would also iraprove lower New York ; and the Washington Building, No. i
Broadway, was the materialization of the thought The intensity that was re
marked in his childhood, and that commanded the confidence of the capitalists of
England, knew no abatement. He had been very cautious in advising English
men about investments, but had imparted to sorae of thera the assurance that
United States Bonds were as sound as the English investment of national debt,
and they profited by accepting his judgment. He insisted upon popularizing the
elevated roads by a uniform fare of five cents, and had it done against strong
opposition, and was raore confident than ever in the stock, of which he had an
enormous holding. But it took years longer than he had calculated to raake
good his plans, and in the interval came a financial storm that corapelled hira to
submit to a heavy loss. He bore his misfortune with fortitude, and still had a
competency ample for him, when there carae a torrent of ill-fortune — the loss of
his beloved wife, and the failure of his sons, under circumstances that bore the
distressing stamp of insanity in one of them, a taint of madness that was in the
blood which had been so prolific of genius. He suffered where he was strongest
and weakest — in his love and his pride.
His spirit would have been invincible if his heart had not been broken. No
husband and father was ever more solicitous for the welfare of wife and children.
The death of his wife, followed by the disasters that overtook his sons, wounded
him as mortally as if a flight of arrows had pierced him. The very contingencies
of fortune against which he thought he had provided with infinite painstaking, fell
upon him as if from clouds in a sky he thought clear. His deepest resolution vvas
that, after the long strain of facing the total loss of fortune during the dark years
of the cable enterprise, he never again would consent to take the chances of the
catastrophe that had haunted him, and from which he had escaped at such hazard
that the fortunate interposition seemed miraculous ; and he did not consciously do
the wrong to hiraself and dear ones he had with such anxiety sought to avoid.
His raisfortunes were as incalculable as incurable.
The faraily affection of the Fields is one of their distinctions, and the love
the four brothers, known to aU the world, bore each other, was as gentle and full
of all happiness as that of children. The "little acts of kindness, little deeds of
love," that, as the old hyran says, would make the world an Eden, were never
wanting. The festivals in which they delighted were those of the family — the
eightieth birthday of the oldest brother — the golden wedding. In his long trav
els, Mn Field was ever thoughtful of home, and it was like him, giving a dinner
to a company of Americans in Edinburgh, to telegraph to their farailies so that
each guest found the news of that day, from his own fireside, in a cablegram on
his plate. Mn Field was no doubt attracted to Iceland, in 1874, by his studies of the
northern waters ; the way the world tapers off in the high latitudes, and the fact
that Iceland raust have been often in his mind as he studied Newfoundland and
Ireland, and knew that Iceland vvas so near Greenland as to belong to the Ameri
can continent, and to have been a stepping-stone from Norway to Labradon

3G0 WORKMEN AND HEROES
He vvas regarded by the Icelanders as alraost as great a raan as the King of Den
mark, who visited his remote possession at the same tirae ; and they thought
Field even a greater discoverer than Colurabus, for they said the Genoese navi
gator got his knowledge of the land in the west frora their ancestors, and sailed
on a certainty.
On the day President Garfield was shot down, he was on his way to Will
iams CoUege, and was to dine that night with Mn Cyrus Field at Ardsley, and
go to the old place he called "the sweetest in the world" next day. A yacht
was waiting to convey the President from Jersey City, when the news of
the assassination became known. The President suffered mentally because he
had not made adequate provision for his family, and Mn F"ield headed a sub
scription list with a liberal sura, and in a few days had a quarter of a million dollars
safely invested for Mrs. Garfield and her children. The motive of this timely
and apt generosity was, first, to afford consolation to the dying chief magistrate.
It was within the scope of the ambition of Mn Field to span the Pacific as
well as the Atlantic Ocean with a cable ; but having triuraphantly overcome one
ocean, he failed to put a girdle round the earth, as De Lesseps, having succeeded
with the Suez Canal — the only work of the age to be named with the Atlantic
telegraph — failed at Darien.
If the prosperity of Mr. Field had continued, and the light had not gone out
in his home, he would not have been content until he had ransacked the globe
for ways and means to have followed the sun to Asia with the telegraph. His
footsteps point the way, and the road to India is westward. »
The golden wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Cyrus W. Field was attended by hun
dreds of those who knew and loved thera, and the great double house of the
Fields, fronting on Graraercy Park, was full of bright faces and glittering with
lights. The historic home was soon darkened and made desolate. The master,
the renowned victor — no narae raore certain of an honorable immortality than
his — was one whom "unraerciful disaster followed fast and foUowed faster." His
wife passed away at Ardsley before the deeper gloora of the storra, and he died
there July 12, 1892. In his deUriura on the morning of his death, he was again
on the stormy coast with the cable fleet ; and he said : " Hold those ships — do
not let thera sail yet" Through the centuries there had descended to him from
the old astronoraer, his ancestor, the far-flashing conception of enterprise and
understanding of the splendor of destiny that was his star, and mingled with its
light were the gentle influences of the religion of his fathers, always to him real
and radiant He sleeps well, amid the scenes where he passed his boyhood, and
for which his heart yearned always — beside his beloved wife ; and carved in the
marble of their tomb as the last testiraony to the loving heart of his companion,
are the words : " Love is eternal." The recollection of his sorrows will not, as.
the centuries come and go, dim the beautiful light of his illustrious name.

.^ yi^^^^:^

QUEEN VICTORIA

361

OUEEN VICTORIA
By Donald Macleod, D.D.
(born I 8 19)

w

ELL do I reraeraber the effect produced on
the audience of students, of which I was
then one, when. Lord Macaulay delivered his
Rectorial address in the University of Glasgow,
and when, after giving such pictures as he alone
could paint, of the character of the four centu
ries that had closed since the university had been
founded — each epoch presenting a scene of blood
shed and misgovemment — he sketched the possi
ble future of the college, and anticipated the time
when coming generations would tell how certain
contemplated changes had been accomplished
during the reign of "the Good Oueen Victoria."
The phrase was accentuated by an oratorical
swing ; and when it was given, the tremendous
burst of enthusiasra showed that they who lis
tened felt the m'eat historian had chosen the ri^ht
epithet, and that he intended it in the sense that,
as some monarchs are called " Great " and some " Little," so for all tirae Victoria
would be named " the Good Queen." This vvas said more than forty vears ago,
before Tennyson had fixed the " Household name," "Albert the Good," for
" Tliat star
VViiiclr slione so close beside Thee, that ye made
One light together."
The epoch in our history vvhich is embraced between the years 1837 and
1887, is unparalleled. ;\t no time in the history of the nation, or of the world,
has there been such rapid and beneficent, progress. \Ve, vvho are citizens of
" the old country," scarcely realize the extent of our dominion. The Roman Em
pire was one-fourth its size ; all the Russias contain an eighth less ; it is sixteen
times as large as France, and three times as large as the United States. The
United Kingdom, with its colonies and dependencies, includes about one-fifth of
the entire globe. The rapidity with which population has grown in some parts
of our dominion may be measured b\- ,\usti"alasia, vvhich in 1837 had 134,059,
and in 1885, 3,278,934, or twentv-three times as manv more. When vve turn
from these figures to consider other fields of progress, we are still moie amazed.
It "oes without sa\-ino: that these last iiftv \cars have seen the (>-i-ovvth of railwavs

362 WORKMEN AND HEROES
and steamships frora their infancy to their present world-embracing influence.
The mileage of railways open in the United Kingdom in 1837 was about 294
railes, but a great proportion was worked by horses. In 1885 the mileage was
19,169, the gross receipts, ^69,555, 774 ; they carried about 1,275,000,000 passen
gers, and employed 367,793 men. Not a stearaer had crossed the Atlantic by
steam alone when the queen came to the throne, and her accession was in the
year previous to that during which Wheatstone in this country, and Morse in
Araerica, introduced electric telegraphy. We, vvho enjoy express trains, six
penny telegrams, half-penny post-cards, and the parcel post, can scarcely reahze
that we are so near the time when mail-coaches and sailing-packets vvere almost
the only means of conveyance, and when postage was a serious burden. The
greatness of the changes in social life may be realized when we remember that, so
recently as 1844, duelling was banished from the code of honor; that crirae has
diminished seventy-one per cent, since 1837 ; and that while fifty years ago Gov
ernment did nothing for education, there are now 30,000 public schools under
the Privy Council. These facts are suggestive of the extent of the advance. Or
if, without touching on the marvellous victories of science, we try to form an es
timate of religious progress, and take the tables for Protestant missions as giving
a fair indication of the zeal and self-sacrifice of the churches, we find that while
British contributions in 1837 amounted to ^316,610, in 1885 they reached
^1,222,261. It may be said vvith truth that the progress thus indicated must have gone
on, no raatter who sat on the throne ; but it vvould be unjust not to recognize
the close influence which the Crown has directly and indirectly exercised on its
advance. There has been no movement tending to the development of the arts
and the industries of the country which has not enlisted the active sympathy of
the royal family. Frora the first the Prince Consort recognized the important
part which the sovereign could fulfil in reference to the peaceful victories of
science and art. Beginning with agriculture — the improvement of stock and the
better housing of agricultural laborers, vve trace the effect of his constant toil in
the .series of industrial triuraphs, of which the great exhibition of 1851 was the
raagnificent precursor ; and, in recent years, the sarae kind of objects have always
enlisted the best energies of the queen and her children.
The contrast is great and touching between the scene in Westminster Abbey,
when, amid the porap of a gorgeous cereraonial and the acclaraation of her sub
jects, the fair girl-queen received the crown of Britain, and that other scene,
when, after fifty years of a gov¬ernraent that has been unblemished, she once more
kneels in the same spot — a widow surrounded bv her children and her children's
children, bearing the burden of many sad as well as blessed memories, and en
compassed with the thanksgivings of the three hundred millions of her subjects.
We can imagine how oppressive, for one so loving, must then be the vision of the
past, as she recalls, one after another, the once familiar and dear faces which
greeted her coronation, those relatives, great ministers of state, and warriors of
whom so fevv survive ; and when all her happy matried years and the years of

VICTORIA GREETED AS QUEEN

BY
H. T. WELLS

QUEEN VICTORIA 363
parting and desolarion appear in vivid retrospect But if ever monarch had
cause to bless God for His tender mercies, it must be she who can combine with
the meraory of her own life's hopes and trials the consciousness that, in the
great work given her as a sovereign, she has been enabled to fulfil the beautiful
desire of her innocent childhood, when, on her first being inforraed of her royal
destiny, she indulged in no vain dreara of povver, but uttered the simple longing
" to be good." That goodness has been her real greatness.
The life of her majesty is marked by three great stages — her youth, her
married life, and her widowhood. Each is bound to each by the tie of a con
sistent growth, passing through those experiences which are typical of God's edu
cation of His chUdren, whether high or low, rich or poon
Her childhood, with its wise education, is very much the kev to her after-life.
Possessed naturally of a quick intellectual capacity, and an unusually accurate
memory, a taste for music and the arts, and a deeply affectionate heart, she was
adrairably brought up by her mother, the Duchess of Kent, on whom the train
ing of the future queen devolved from her infancy. If the education was as
high as it vvas possible to afford a young and intelligent spirit, the moral influ
ences were equally beneficial. The young princess, instead of being isolated
within the formalities of a court, was allowed to become acquainted with the
wants and sufferings of the poor, and to indulge her sympathies by giving thera
personal help. The contrast was a great one between the court of George IV.,
or even that of Williara, and the truly Enghsh home where the Duchess of Kent
nurtured this sweet life in aU that was simple, loving, and pure. There could
scarcely have been a better school for an affectionate nature. All that vve learn
of her majesty at that tirae gives a consistent picture of great vivacity, thorough
directness in her search after truth, warmth of heart, and considerateness for
others, with a genuine love for all that is morally good. These vvere the charac
teristics which irapressed those who saw her on the trying occasion when she was
suddenly ushered into the foremost place in the greatest erapire in the world.
It was these characteristics which touched the hearts of the good archbishop and
of the Chancellor of England when they announced her great destiny to the girl
suddenly summoned from slumben That first request, "My Lord Archbishop,
pray for rae ! " revealed the depth of her character. It vvas the same when she
had ne.\t day to pass through the ordeal of meeting the great councillors of
state for the first time. Lord Melbourne, the Duke of Wellington,. Peel, and
the keen-eyed Secretary Greville, all felt the beautiful combination of dignity
with unaffected simplicity, and of quick intelligence with royal courtesy. But
they did not see the episode vvhich followed the fatigue and excitement of the
long formalities of the council, when the young queen rushed first of all to her
mother's arms, there to indulge her feelings in a burst of tears, and then, vvith
girlish naivete, claiming the exercise of her royal prerogative to procure for hcr-
•self two hours of absolute solitude.
The earlier years of her reign vvere happily l)lessed vvith the wise and benefi
cent influence of Lord Melbourne. His relationship to the youthful sin'creign

.364 WORKMEN AND HEROES
was more that of a father and able political instructor than of a formal first min
ister of the crown. He was too experienced not heartily to appreciate the beau
tiful eharacter of his young mistress, and the interest he took in her political
education, and in everything likely to further her prosperity and happiness, was
evidently kindled by warra affection. She was equally favored in having as ad
viser so sagacious a relative as her uncle Leopold, the late King of the Belgians.
The Duke of Wellington regarded her almost as a daughter ; and there was also,
ever at hand, another, whose trained intellect and loyal heart exercised no little
influence on her career — Baron Stockmar — to whose lofty ideal of the functions
of royalty, calmly balanced treatment of all questions of state policy, and high-
toned moral sympathies, both the queen and the prince consort have amply ex
pressed their indebtedness.
Without touching further on the earlier period of her reign, which was not
without raany incidents of interest, we turn to the raarried years of the queen as
to a bright and sunny memory.
The position of an unmarried or widowed queen necessarily entails a peculiar
loneliness. She is surrounded by the rigorous demands of state necessity. If
she has to forra a judgment upon documents submitted to her, there is no one
so close to her and so independent of all other influences as to be truly an alter
ego. Faithful servants of the crown may do their best to be of use, but no one
of them can be so near as to receive such unguarded confidences as can be given
to the husband vvho shares every joy and sorrow. The queen's married life was
ideally perfect She married the man she loved, and each year deepened her
early affection into an admiration, a reverence, and a pride which elevated her
love into consecration.
There was no horae in England made more beautiful by all that was tender,
cultured, and noble than that in which "the blameless prince" fulfilled his
heroic career of duty, and shed the bright light of his joyous, affectionate, and
keenly intellectual life. There were few homes in which a greater amount of
trying and anxious work vvas more systemarically accomplished, or in which
there was a more exquisite blending of hard thinking with the enjoyment of the
fine arts and the fulness of loving family happiness. We have picture after pict
ure given us in the life of the Prince Consort which puts us in touch with these
brilliant years, when the queen and he were never parted but for one or two brief
intervals. Early hours of close labor were followed by a genial and hearty re
laxation, and at every turn the wife and sovereign felt the blessedness of that
presence which ministered to her in sickness vvith the gentleness of a woman, and
which she leaned upon in hours of difficulty with complete trust in the strength
and trueness of his wise intellect. There was no decrease on either side in those
feelings and utterances of feeling vvhich are so beautiful when they carry into
after years the warmth of the first attachment, only hallowed and deepened by
experience. There were many fresh features in the kind of life which vvas introduced by
the queen and the consort into the habits of the court. Araona: these none

MONTSARD PINXIT.

WINDSOR CASTLE.

QUEEN VICTORIA 365
were more marked than the breaking up of that monotony which the restrictions
that hitherto prevailed as to the residence of the royal family in one or two state
palaces entailed. We can vvell understand how the Empress Eugenie should have
found the Tuileries, in spite of its grandeur, no better than " une belle prison,"
and her delight at the comparative freedora she enjoyed at Windson The queen
and Prince Consort inaugurated a new era in the customs of the court by taking
advantage of the facilities afforded by modern raethods of .eonvevance. Scarcelv
any part of the country celebrated for scenery, or any town famous for its indus
tries, remained unvisited by thera.
The beneficial effects of these journeys were great. Loyalty is to a large ex
tent a personal raatter, and is necessarily deepened when the representative of
the state not only possesses raoral dignity of character but comes frequentlv into
contact with the people. It is also of use to the crown that its wearer should
know, from actual observation, the conditions of life in the country. It is in the
light of this mutual action of acquaintance between prince and j)eople that vve
estimate the value of that knowledge which the Prince of Wales, his brothers,
and his sons have gained of so many parts of the empire. The Prince Consort
felt keenly the use of these influences. " How important and beneficent," he
once said, " is the part given to the royal family of England to act in the devel
opment of those distant and rising countries, who recognize in the British crown
and their allegiance to it, their supreme bond of union with the mother country
and to each other ! "
During each year of their married life the queen and Prince Consort went
on some interesting toun In England, Oxford and Cambridge, Birmingham,
Leeds, Liverpool, Manchester, received royal visits, while such historical houses
as Chatsworth, Hatfield, Stfjwe, and Strathfieldsay were honored bv their pres
ence Ireland vvas thrice visited. Wales raore than once. The first visit to
Scotland was raade in 1842, another in 1844, and from 1847 onl\- one year passed
without a long residence in the north — first at Ardverachie, on Loch Laggan,
and then at vvhat vvas to be their Highland home on Deeside. Rei)eated visits
were also made to the Continent, sometimes in state and sometimes in as much
privacy as could be commanded.
It is when we come to this bright time, so full of fresh interest and of a de
lightful freedom, that vve have the advantage of the queen's own " Leaves from
the Journal of our Life in the Highlands." Iler visit to Edinburgh in 1842, and
the drive by Birnam and .Aljcrfeldy to Taymouth, and the s|>lentlor of the recep
tion, when, amid the cheers of a thousand Highlanders and the wild notes of the
bagpipes, she was welcomed by Lord Breadalbane, evidently stirred e\ery feeling
of romance. "It seemed," .she vvrote, "as if a great chieftain of olden feudal
times was receiving his sovereign." It appeared like a new world, when, thnnv-
ing off for a time the restrictions of stale, she found herself at Blair two years
afterward, climbing the great hills of AthoU, and from the top of Tulloeh look
ing forth on the panorama of mountain and glen. " It was (juite romantic ; here
vve were vvith onlv this Highlander behind us holding the ponies, not a house,

366 WORKMEN AND HEROES
not a creature near us but the pretty Highland sheep, with their horns and black
faces. It was the most delightful, most romantic, ride and walk I ever had."
These early visits to Scotland inspired her with her love for the Highlands and
the Highlanders. She found there quite a world of poetry. The majestic scen
ery, the fresh, bracing air, the picturesqueness of the kilted gillies, the piping
and the dancing, and the long days among the heather, recalled scenes which Sir
Walter Scott has glorified for all time, and which are especially identified with
the fortunes of the unhappy Stuarts, of whom she is novv the nearest represent
ative. It was in 1848 that the court proceeded for the first time to Balmoral, then
a picturesque but sraall castle. The air of Deeside had been recoraraended by
Sir Jaraes Clark, the queen's physician, and his anticipation of the benefits to be
derived frora residence there was so corapletely realized that although four years
passed before the property was actually purchased, yet preparations were raade
for establishing there a royal horae. Plans for the future castle and for laying
out the grounds were gone into by the prince with keen delight " All has be
come my dear Albert's own creation, own work, own building, own laying out,
as at Osborne ; and his great taste and the irapress of his dear hand have been
staraped everywhere."
It was here that the queen and the Prince Consort enjoyed for more than
twelve years a delightful freedom, mingling with their people, devising the
wisest raethods for insuring their well-being, going with thera to worship in their
plain (very plain ! ) parish church, and being to each and all unaffectedly sincere
friends. Every .spot around soon became consecrated by some sweet association.
Every great family event had its comraeraoration amid the scenery around the
castle ; though many a cairn, once raised in joy, is now, alas ! a monument of
sorrow. The life at Balmoral vvas in every sense beneficial. There never has
been there the kind of relaxation that comes from idleness. Systematic work
has been always raaintained at Balraoral as at Windson Early hours in the
fresh morning and a regular arrangeraent of time during the day have given
room for the constant business of the crown ; but every now and then there were
glorious " outings," whether for sport or for some far-reaching expedition, which
gave fresh zest to happy and united toil.
There is raore than one characterisric of the queen which raay recall to
Scotchraen the history of their own Stuarts, and araong these is her enjoyment
of expeditions incognita. The Prince Consort, with his simple German heart,
entered fully into the "fun" of .such journeys, as, starting off on long rides across
mountain-passes and through swollen burns and streams, lunching on heights
from which they could gaze far and wide over raountain and strath, they would
reach some little roadside inn, and there, assuming a feigned name, had the
delight of feeling theraselves "private people," while the siraple fare and the
ridiculous contretemps which frequently occurred were enjoyed the more keenly
because of their contrast to accustoraed state And during all these vears their
doraestic life was unbroken by any great family sorrow. l\ ::.:.'.''"

QUEEN VICTORIA :j(;7
before her great bereavement that the queen lost her mother, the Duchess of
Kent Few can read the account of that sorrowful parting without being dravvm
nearer to the sovereign by the tie of a common humanity, so deep and tender is
the affection that is revealed.
But till 1 86 1 the queen was surrounded by all those vvho were dearest to her,
and she and the prince shared. the sweet task of superintending their children's
education. Few parents raore anxiously considered the best methods for secur
ing a sound moral and religious training. "The greatest maxim of all," writes
the queen, "is that the children shall be brought up as simply and in as doraes
tic a way as possible, that (without interfering with their lessons) they should be
as rauch as possible with their parents, and learn to place their greatest confidence
in thera in all things." As to religious training, the queen's conviction vvas that
it is best when given to a child " day by day at his mother's knee" It was only
the great pressure of public duty which rendered it impossible for her to fulfil
her part so completely as she desired. " It is a hard case for me," her majesty
writes, in reference to the princess royal, " that my occupations prevent me being
with her when she says her prayers."
The religious convictions of the queen and the Prince Consort were deep.
They both cared little for those raere accidents and conventionalities of religion
which so raany magnify into essentials. The prince, eminently devout, insisted
on the realities of religion. " We want not what is safe, but true," vvas his com
raentary on the exaggerated outcry against " Essavs and Reviews." " The Gospel,
and the unfettered right to its use," vvas his claim for Protestantism. For his own
spirit, like that of the queen, vvas truly religious. The quiet evenings spent to
gether before communion, and the directness and reverence with which both
served God were combined with an utter abhorrence of all intolerance. Such
qualities are generally raisunderstood by the narrow-minded, who have only their
own "shibboleths" to test all faith, and the one Church — whatever it may be —
that they regard as "true." The queen and the prince rose above such distinc
tions; they shared the Catholicism of St. Paul, "Grace be with all vvho love the
Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity."
But these bright and happy years were doomed to a sudden ending. It is
only when vve have realized all that her husband vvas to her that vve can measure
how fearful was the blow to her loving heart when he vvho vvas her pride and her
constant companion was laid low. We may well feel what a shatttering it bixnight
to all that hitherto had enriched her life, and how verv desolate her position be
came when she was left in loneliness on the throne, a widow separatetl by her
queendora from many of those supports which others find near them, but from
which she vvas deprived bv her po.sition. " Fourteen ha]ipv and blessed vears
have passed," she wrote, in 1854, " and I confidently trust man\- more will pass,
and find us in old age as we now are, happilv and devotedlv united. Trials vve
must have, but vvhat are they if wc are together ? " In God's wisdom that hope
was not to be realized, and in 1861 the stroke fell, and it fell vvith crushing
powen

368 WORKMEN AND HEROES
It is not for us to lift the curtain of sorrow that fell like a funeral pall over
the first years of her widowhood. For many a day it seemed as if the grief was
more than she could bear, and although she was sustained through it all by God's
grace, and supported by the sympathy of the nation, yet it was naturally a long-
continued and absorbing sorrow. Other blows have fallen since then. The ten
der and wise Princess Alice, and the thoughtful and cultured Duke of Albany,
have also been gathered to their rest ; and the queen has had to mourn over one
after another of her most faithful servants taken from hen But the hallowing
hand of time, the soothing reraembrance of unspeakable mercies, and the call to
noble duty, have done rauch to restore the strength, if not the joy, of former
days. Her people rejoice, and the influence of the Crown is enormously strength
ened, when in these later years the queen has been able once more to mingle with
the nation.
When vve touch on the third period of her life — which may vvell be termed
that of sorrow, although brightened by many happy ev^ents in the domestic life of
her children — rwe reach times that are farailiar to every reader. These have been
years in vvhich the cares of state have often been exceedingly burdensome. The
days of anxiety during the Crimean War and the Indian Mutiny have more than
once had their counterpart Afghanistan, Zululand with its Isandula, and the
Transvaal War vvith its Majuba Hill, Egypt, and the Soudan, brought hours of
sore anxiety to the sovereign ; but they were probably not raore harassing to in
tellect and heart than the raonths of difficult diploraacy which the threatening
aspect of European politics frequently laid upon Governraent.
I raay say in passing that no portrait of her appears to rae to be quite satis
factory. They usually have only one expression, that of sadness and thoughtful
ness, and so far they give a true representation ; for when there is nothing to
rouse her interest and when she is silent, that look of sadness is doubtless what
chiefly irapresses one. Her face then bears the traces of weary thought and of
trying sorrow ; but when she is engaged in conversation, and especially if her
keen sense of humor has been touched, her countenance becomes lit with an ex
ceedingly engaging brightness, or beams with heartiest laughten
Her life at Balraoral since her great sorrow maintains, as far as mav be, the
traditions of the happy past. She still makes expeditions, cognita or incognita,
sometiraes to the scenes of forraer enjoyment or to new places of interest. She
has in this way visited Blair, Dunkeld, Invermark, Glenfiddich, Invertrossachs,
Dunrobin, Inverloehy, Inverary, Loch Marll, and Broxmouth.
The queen, among her people at Balmoral, gives a splendid exaraple to every
landlord. "The first lady in the land" is the most gracious mistress possible.
Her interest is no condescending " make-believe,-" as we sometimes find it in the
case of others, who seek a certain popularity araong their dependents by show
ing spasmodic attentions which it is difficult to harmonize vvith a prevailing in
difference. With the queen it is the unaffected care of one who really loves her
people, and who is keenly touched by all that touches thera. She knows them
all by narae, and in the times of their sorrow they experience from her a personal

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 369
sympathy peculiarly soothing. There is indeed no part of the volumes she has
given us more surprising than the minute knowledge she there shovv^s of all the
people who have been in any way connected vvith hen The gillies, guides, and
gamekeepers,, the maids who have served her, the attendants, coachmen, and foot
men, are seldom mentioned without some notice of their lives being recorded as
faithfully as is the case with peers and peeresses. How few mistresses are there
who, burdened as she is with duty, would thus hold in kindest remembrance each
faithful servant, become acquainted with their circumstances, and provide for
them in age or in trial with generous solicitude. It is this rich humanity of feel
ing that is her noblest characteristic. The public are accustomed to see messages
of sympathy sent by the queen in cases of disaster and of accident, but they can
not know how truly those calamities fall upon her own heart. As far as her life
in the Highlands is concerned, she is novv perhaps the best speciraen we have of
what the old Highland chieftain used to be, only that in her case vve find the
benefits of paternal government without its harsh severities. There is the same
frank and hearty attachment to her dependents, the same intimate knowledge of
each one of them, the same recognition of services. It is a queenly quality to
recognize what is worthy, no matter what the rank raay be. It was from this
she placed so much confidence in her faithful attendant, John Bro\vn. Her
great kindness to him was her own generous interpretation of the long and loyal
services of one who, for raore than thirty years, had been personal attendant on
the Prince Consort and herself, leading her pony during raany a long day upon
the hills, watching over her safety in London as well as on Deeside, and vvho, on
raore than one occasion, protected her frora peril. " His attention, care and
faithfulness cannot be exceeded," she writes in the first volurae of the " Leaves,"
" and the state of my health, which of late years has been sorely tried and weak
ened, renders such qualifications most valuable."

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE
By Lizzie Alldridge
(borx 1820)
pr=<v.Ti'ilC€ VERV distinguished lady nurse, who has been in half the hosjiitals in
P^'-^W^-^^li Europe, once said to me : " To Florence Nightingale, vvho vvas ray
C^^/^^^UM o\\'" fii'st teacher and inspirer, we owe the wonderful change that
ff^^t^^^i^, has taken place in the public raind with regard to nursing. When
t^liy/'lfy^l-y-i I first began rav hospital training, hospital nursing vvas thought to
be a profession which no decent woman of any rank could follovv\ If a servant
turned nurse, it was supposed she did so because she had lost her characten
We have changed all that now. Modern nursing owes its first impulse to Flor
ence Nightingale." •2i

370

WORKMEN AND HEROES

I don't suppose that any of my young readers have ever seen a hospital nurse
of the now nearly extinct Gamp type ; but I have I have seen her, coarse-
faced, thick of limb, heavy of foot, brutal in speech, crawling up and down the
stairs or about the wards, in dresses and aprons
that made me feel (although quite well and with
a good healthy appetite) as if I would not have
rav good dinner just then. These were the old-
fashioned " Sairey Gamps." But Florence Night
ingale has been too strong for even the immortal
" Sairey." Go novv through the corridors and
wards of a modern hospital ; every nurse you raeet
will be neat and trira, with spotless dress and cap
and apron, moving quickly but quietly to and fro,
doing her work with kindness and intelligence.
It was in 1820, the year George the Third's
long life quite faded out, that the younger of the
two daughters of William Shore Nightingale was
born at Florence, and named after that lovely city.
Mn Nightingale, of Embley Park, Hampshire,
and the Lea Hurst, Derbyshire, was a wealthy
land-ownen He was of the Shores of Derbyshire, but inherited the fortune
with the narae of Nightingale through his mothen Lea Hurst, where Miss
Nightingale passed the suramer months of each year, is situated in the Matlock
district, among bold masses of limestone rock, gray walls, full of fossils, covered
with moss and lichen, with the changeful river Derwent now dashing over its
stony bed, now quietly winding between little dales with clefts and dingles.
Those who have travelled by the Derby and Buxton Railway will reraeraber the
narrow valleys, the mountain streams, the wide spans of high moorland, the dis
tant ranges of hiUs beyond the hills of the district Lea Hurst, a gable-ended
house, standing araong its own woods and commanding wonderful views of the
Peak country, is about two miles from Cromford station.
At Lea Hurst much of Florence Nightingale's childhood was passed. There
she early developed that intense love for every living suffering thing, that grew
with her growth, until it becarae the master-passion of her life.
Florence Nightingale always retained her belief in animals. Manv vears
after her name was known all over the world, she vvrote : " A small pet animal
is often an excellent companion for the sick, for long chronic cases especiallv."
An inv^alid, in giving an account of his nursing by a nurse and a dog, infinitely
preferred that of the dog. " Above all," he said, " it did not talk." Even Flor
ence Nightingale's maimed dolls were tenderly nursed and bandaged.
Mr. Nightingale was a man singularly in advance of his time as regards the
training of girls. The " higher education of women" was unknown to the gen
eral public in those days, but not to Mr. Nightingale. His daughter was taught
matheraatics, and studied the classics, history, and modern languages under her

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 371
father's guidance. These last were afterward of the greatest use to her in the
Crimea. But she was no " learned lady ; " only a well-educated Englishvv^oman
all round. She vvas an excellent musician, and skilful in work with the needle ;
and the delicate trained touch thus acquired stood her in good stead, for the sol
diers used to say that a wound vvhich Miss Nightingale dressed "was sure to get
vvell." She felt a strong craving for work, more even than the schools and cottages,
¦ the care of the young, the sick, and the aged (in which she followed her mother's
example) could afford her at her father's horae. Mrs. Browning tells us to
" Get leave to work
In this world ; 'tis the best you get at all."
Florence Nightingale not only got leave to work, but did so, very quietlv but
very persistently. And so she became a pioneer for less courageous souls, and
won for them also "leave to work." Taught by her father, she soon learned to
distinguish between what was really good work and which mere make-beUeve
She had many opportunities, even as a child, of seeing really fine, artistic vvork
both in science and art. She set up a high standard, and was never satisfied with
anything short of the best, either in herself or others. It is a grand thing to
know good work when you see it.
The love of work, however, with Florence Nightingale, always went hand in
hand with that love for every living thing in God's world which vvas born vvith
her and which was never crowded out by all this education. As she grew up
she more and more felt that helpfulness was the first law of her being ; but her
reason and intellect having been so carefully trained, she was thoroughlv per
suaded that, in order to help effectually, one must know thoroughly both the
cause of suffering and its radical cure.
The study of nursing had an irresistible attraction for her. Few people in
England at that time valued nursing. Florence Nightingale was convinced that
indifference arose from the all but absolute ignorance of vvhat nursing should be,
and she set herself to acquire the necessary knowledge to enable her to carry it
out in the very best and most scientific way. She never lost an opportunity of
visiting a hospital, either at home or abroad. She gave up the life of so-called
"pleasure," which it was then considered a young woman of her position ought
to lead, and after having very carefully examined innumerable nursing institu
tions at home and abroad, at length vv^ent to the well-known Pastor Fliedner's
Deaconesses, at Kaiserswerth, vvhere she reraained for several raonths.
After leaving Kaiserswerth, Miss Nightingale was for a while vvith the Sisters
of St Vincent de Paul, in Paris, so anxious was she to see how nursing vvas
carried on under raany different systems. It was during 1851, the year of the
first Great Exhibition, that she was thus fitting herself practically for the great
task that lay before her in the not very distant future.
On her return to England, Miss Nighringale found a patient that required all
her time and help of everv kind. This patient was none other than the Sanato-

372 WORKMEN AND HEROES
rium in Harley Street for gentlewomen of liraited means. Into the saving of
this valuable institution Miss Nightingale threw all her energy, and for two or
three years, hidden away frora the outside world, she vvas working day and night
for her poor suffering ladies, until at length she was able to feel that the Sana-
toriura was not only in good health, but on the high road to permanent success.
Florence Nightingale's own health, however, gave way under the long-con
tinued strain of anxiety and fatigue ; she was obliged to leave the invalids for
whom she had done so much, and go home for the rest and change she so sorely
-needed. Now, while Miss Nightingale had been quietly getting " Harley Street " into
working order, the gravest and raost terrible changes had taken place in the affairs
of the nation, and not only in those of England, but in those of the whole of Eu
rope In 1851, when the first Great Exhibition was opened, all was peace — the
long peace of forty years was still unbroken — people said it nev^er vvas to -be
broken again, and that wars and rumors of wars had come to an end. So much
for human foreknowledge. By the autumn of 1854, the horrors of the Crimean
war had reached their cliraax. The Times was full, day by day, of the most
thrilling and appalling descriptions of the hideous sufferings of our brave men —
sufferings caused quite as much by the utter breakdown of the sanitary adminis
tration as by even the deadly battles and trenchwork ; while every post vvas
bringing agonizing private letters appealing for help.
Men were wounded in the Crimea, the hospitals were far off at Scutari, the
wide and stormy Black Sea had to be crossed to reach them ; the stores of food,
clothing, and medicine that might have saved raany a life were at Varna, or lost
in the Black Prince ; the state of the great Barrack Hospital at .Scutari was inde
scribably horrible ; everybody was frantic to rush to the relief ; no one knew
what best to do ; public feeling was at fever-heat. How could it be otherwise
when William Howard Russell, the Times correspondent, was constantly writing
such true but heartrending letters as this :
" The commonest accessories of a hospital are w^anting ; there is not the least
attention paid to decency or cleanliness ; the stench is appalling ; the fetid air
can barely struggle out to taint the atmosphere, save through the chinks in the
walls and roofs ; and for all I can observe, these men die without the least effort
being raade to save them. Here they lie, just as they were let gentlv down on
the ground by the poor fellows, their comrades, who brought them on their backs
from the camp vvith the greatest tenderness, but who are not allowed to remain
vvith t:hem. The sick appear to be tended by the sick, and the dying bv the dying."
Miss Nightingale, who vvas then recovering from her Harley Street nursing,
deeply felt the intensity of the crisis that was raoving the whole nation ; but,
whereas the panic had driven raost of the kind people vvho vvere so eager to help
the array, nearly " off their heads," it only made hers the cooler and elearen She
vvrote, offering her services to Mn Sidney Herbert, afterward Lord Herbert, the
minister for war, who, together with his wife, had long known her, and had rec
ognized her wonderful organizing faculties, and her great practical experience

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 373
It was on October 15th that she wrote to Mn Herbert On the very same
day the minister had written to her. Their letters crossed. Mn Herbert, who
had himself given rauch attention to railitary hospitals, laid before Miss Nightin
gale, in his novv historical letter, a plan for nursing the sick and wounded at
Scutari. " There is, as far as I know," he wrote, " only one person in England capable
of organizing and directing such a plan, and I have been several tiraes on the
' point of asking you if you would be disposed to raake the attempt That it will
be difficult to form a corps of nurses, no one knows better than yourself."
After specifying the difficulty in finding not only good nurses, but good
nurses who would be willing to submit to authority, he goes on : "I have this
simple question to put to you. Could you go out yourself and take charge of
everything ? It is, of course, understood that you will have absolute authority
over all the nurses, unlimited power to draw on the Governraent for all you judge
necessary to the success of your mission ; and I think I raay assure you of the co
operation of the medical staff. Your personal qualities, your knowledge, and your
authority in adrainistrative affairs, all fit you for this position."
Miss Nightingale at once concurred in Mr. Herbert's proposal. The raate
rials for a staff of good nurses did not exist, and she had to put up with the best
that could be gathered on such short notice.
On the 2 ist, a letter by Mn Herbert, from the War Office, told the world that
" Miss Nightingale, accompanied by thirty-four nurses, will leave this evening.
Miss Nightingale, who has, I believe, greater practical experience of hospital ad
ministration and treatment than any other lady in this country, has, with a self-
devotion for which I have no words to express my gratitude, undertaken this
noble but arduous work."
A couple of days later there was a paragraph in the Times from Miss Night
ingale herself, referring to the gifts for the soldiers that had been offered so lav
ishly : "Miss Nightingale neither invites nor refuses the generous offers. Her
banking account is open at Messrs. Coutts's." On October 30th, the Times repub-
Ushed from the Examiner ?i\eX.X.ex, headed, "Who is Miss Nighringale?" and
signed "One who has known hen" Then was made known to the British pub-
blic for the first time who the woraan that had gone to the aid of the sick and
wounded really was ; then it vvas shown that she was no hospital matron, but a
young and singularly graceful and accomplished gentlewoman of wealth and
position, who had, not in a moment of national enthusiasm, but as the set pur
pose of her life from girihood up, devoted herself to the studying of God's great
and good laws of health, and to trying to apply thera to the help of her suffering
fellow-creatures. Frora October 30, 1854, the heroine of the Crimean vvar vvas Florence Night
ingale, and the heroine of that war will she be while the English tongue exists
and English history is read. The national enthusiasm for her was at once in
tense, and it grew deeper and more intense as week by week revealed her pow
ers. " Less talent and eneroy of character, less singleness of purpose and devo-

374 WORKMEN AND HEROES
tion, could never hav^e combined the heterogeneous elements which she gathered
together in one coraraon vvork and labor of love."
I met the other day a lady who saw something of Miss Nightingale just be
fore she went out to the East. This lady tells me that Miss Nightingale was
then raost graceful in appearance, tall and slight, very quiet and still. At first
sight her earnest face struck one as cold ; but when she began to speak she grew
very animated, and her dark eyes shone out with a pecuharly star-like bright
ness. This was the woman whose starting for the East was at once felt to be the be
ginning of better things ; but so prejudiced were many good English people
against women-nurses for soldiers, that Mrs. Jameson, writing at the time, calls
the scheme " an undertaking wholly new to our English customs, much at vari
ance with the usual education given to women in this country." She, sensible
woraan, one in advance of her day, hoped it would succeed, but hoped rather
faintly. " If it succeeds," she goes on, " it will be the true, the lasting glory of
Florence Nightingale and her band of devoted assistants, that they have broken
down a 'Chinese wall of prejudices,' religious, social, professional, and have es
tablished a precedent vvhich will, indeed, raultiply the good to all tirae."
The Uttle band of nurses crossed the Channel to Boulogne, where they found
the fisherwomen eager for the honor of carrying their luggage to the railway.
This display, however, seeraed to Miss Nightingale to be so out of keeping with
the deep gravity of her raission, that, at her wish, it was not repeated at any of the
stopping-places during the route. The Vectis took the nurses across the Medi
terranean, and a terribly rough passage they had. On November 5th, the very
day on which the battle of Inkermann was fought, the ship arrived at Scu
tari. Miss Nightingale and her nurses landed during the afternoon, and it was re
marked at the time that their neat black dresses formed a strong contrast to those
of the usual hospital attendants.
The great Barrack Hospital at Scutari, vvhich had been lent to the British bv
the Turkish Government, was an enormous quadrangular building, a quarter of
a mile each way, with square towers at each angle. It stood on the Asiatic shore
a hundred feet above the Bosphorus. Another large hospital stood near ; the
whole, at times, containing as many as four thousand men. The whole were
placed under Miss Nightingale's care. The nurses were lodged in the southeast
to wen The extent of corridors in the great hospital, story above storv, in vvhich the
sick and wounded vvere at first laid on wretched palliasses, as close together as
they could be placed, made her inspection and care raost difficult. There were
two rows of mattresses in the corridors, where two persons could hardly pass
abreast between foot and foot. The mortality, when the Times first took up the
cause of the sick and wounded, was enormous. In the Crimea itself there vvas
not half the mortality in the tents, horrible as vvere the sufferings and privations
of the raen there.

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 375
" The whole of yesterda)^" writes one of the nurses a fevv days after thev had
arrived, " one could only forget one's own existence, for it w^as spent, first in
sewing the men's mattresses together, and then in washing them and assisting
the surgeons, when vve could, in dressing their ghastly wounds after their five
days' confinement on board ship, during which space their wounds had not been
dressed. Flundreds of men with fever, dysenteiy, and cholera (the wounded
were the sraaller portion) filled the wards in succession, frora the overcrowded
transports." Miss Nightingale's position was a raost difficult one. Everything was in dis
order, and every official was extremely jealous of interference. Miss Nightingale,
however, at once impressed upon her staff the duty of obeying the doctors' orders,
as she did herself. An invalids' kitchen vvas established iramediately by her to
suppleraent the rations. A laundry was added ; the nursing itself, was,' however,
the most difficult and iraportant part of the work.
But it would take far too much space to giv^c all the details of that kind but
strict administration which brought comparative corafort and a low death-rate
into the Scutari hospitals. During a year and a half the labor of getting the hos
pitals into working order was enorraous, but before the peace arrived they were
raodels of what such institutions raay be.
Speaking of Miss Nightingale in the hospital at Scutari, the Times corre
spondent wrote: "Wherever there is disease in its raost dangerous forra, and
the hand of the spoiler distressingly nigh, there is that incomparable woman sure
to be seen ; her benignant presence is an influence of good comfort even amid
the struggles of expiring nature. She is a ministering angel, without any exag
geration, in these hospitals, and as her slender form glides quietly along each cor
ridor, every poor fellow's face softens with gratitude at the sight of her. \Vhen
all the raedical officers have retired for the night, and silence and darkness have
settled down upon these miles of prostrate sick, she may be observed, alone, with
a little lamp in her hand, making her solitary rounds. \Vith the heart of a true
woraan and the manner of a lady, accoraplished and refined beyond most of her
sex, she combines a surprising calraness of judgraent and promptitude and deci
sion of characten The popular instinct was not mistaken, which, when she set out
from England on her mission of raercy, hailed her as a heroine ; I trust that she
may not earn her title to a higher, though sadder, appellation. No one who has
observed her fragile figure and delicate health can avoid misgivings lest these
should fail."
Public feeling bubbled up into poetry. Even doggerel ballads sung about the
streets praised " The Nightingale of the East,
For her heart it means good."
Among many others, Longfellow vvrote the charming poem, " The Lady
with the Larap," so beautifully illustrated bv the statuette of Florence Nightin
gale at St. Thomas's Hospital, suggested by the well-known incident recorded in
a soldier's letter : " She vvould speak to one and anothen and nod and smile tf)

376 WORKMEN AND HEROES
many more ; but she could not do it to all, you know, for we lay there by hun
dreds ; but we could kiss her shadow as it fell, and lay our heads on our pillows
again, content."
" Lo ! in that house of misery
A lady with a lamp I see
Pass through the glimmering gloom.
And flit from room to room.
" .\nd slow, as in a dream of bliss,
The speechless sufferer turns to kiss
Her shadow as it falls
Upon the darkening walls.
" On England's annals, through the long
Hereafter of her speech and song,
A light its rays shall cast
From portals of the past.
'' .\ lady with a lamp shall stand
In the great history of the land,
A noble type of good
Heroic womanhood."
In the following spring Miss Nightingale crossed the Black Sea and visited
Balaclava, where the state of the hospitals in huts was extremely distressing, as
help of all kinds was ev^en more difficult to obtain there than at Scutari. Here
Miss Nightingale spent some weeks, until she was prostrated by a severe attack
of the Crimean fever, of vvhich she very nearly died.
But at length the Crimean war came to an end. The nation vvas prepared
to welcome its heroine with the most passionate enthusiasm. But Florence
Nightingale quietly slipped back unnoticed to her Derbyshire home, without its
being known that she had passed through London.
Worn out with ill-health and fatigue, and naturally shrinking frora publicity,
the public at large has scarcely ever seen her ; she has been a great invalid ever
since the war, and for many years hardly ever left her house.
But her energy has been untiring. She was one of the founders of the
Red Cross Society for the relief of the sick and wounded in wan When the
civil war broke out in America she was consulted as to all the details of the
military nursing there. " Her name is almost more known among us than even
in Europe," wrote an American. During the Franco-German vvar she gave ad
vice for the chief hospitals under the Crown Princess, the Princess .Vlice, and
others. The Children's Hospital, at Lisbon, was erected from her plans. The
hospitals in Australia, India, and other places have received her care A large
proportion of the plans for the building and organization of the hospitals erected
during the last twenty-fiv^e years in England, have passed through her hands.
The Queen, vvho had followed her work with constant interest, presented her
with a beautiful and costly decoration. The nation gave ^50,000 to found the

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 377
Nightingale Home. In this home Miss Nightingale takes the deepest interest,
constantly having the nurses and sisters to visit her, and learning from them the
most minute details of its working. Great is evidently her rejoicing when one
of herv Nightingales " proves to be a really fine nurse, such a one, for instance,
as Agnes Jones, the reformer of workhouse nursing.
This was the high position Florence Nightingale conquered for her fellow-
women. Hundreds have occupied, and are still occupying, the ground she won
for them. " And I give a quarter of a century's European experience," she goes
on, "when I say that the happiest people, the fondest of their occupation, the
most thankful for their lives, are, in my opinion, those engaged in sick nursing."
Officials in high places, ever since the Crimean war, have sent Miss Night
ingale piles, raountains one raight say, of reports and blue books for her ad
vice. She seeras to be able to condense any number of them into half a dozen
telling sentences ; for instance, the mortality in .Indian regiraents, during tiraes
of peace, becarae exceedingly alarming. Reports on the subject were poured in
upon hen " The men tire siraply treated like Strasbourg geese," she said in
effect. "They eat, sleep, frizzle in the sun, and eat and sleep again. Treat
them reasonably, and they will be well." She has written much valuable ad
vice on " How to live and not die in India."
ChUdren's hospitals have also engaged much of her attention. Vou can
not open one of her books at hazard without being struck with some shrevv^d
remark, that tells how far-reaching is her observation ; as in this, on the play
grounds of children's hospitals : " A large garden-ground, laid out in sward
and grass hillocks, and such ways as children like (not too pretty, or the chil
dren will be scolded for spoiling it), raust be provided."
Here, I am sorry to find, ray space comes to an end, but not, I hope, before
I have been able to sketch in some slight way what ,great results will assuredly
follow, when Faith and Science are united in one person. In the days, vvhich
we may hope are now dawning, when these gifts will be united, not in an 'in
dividual here and there, but in a large portion of our race, there will doubtless
be raany a devoted woraan whose knowledge ma)^ equal her practical skill, and
her love for God and her fellow-creatures, who will understand, even more thor
oughly than most of us now can (most of us being still so ignorant), how deep
a debt of gratitude is due to her vvho first opened for woraen so raany paths of
duty, and raised nursing from a menial employraent to the dignity of an " .\rt of
Charity " — to England's first great nurse, the wise, beloved, and far-seeing heroine
of the Crimean war, the Lady of the Larap, Florence Nightingale

378

WORKMEN AND HEROES

DR. LOUIS PASTEUR*

Bv Dr. Cyrus Edson

(born 1822) Louis Pasteur, the Colurabus
of " the world of the infinitely
little " — to quote the phrase of Pro
fessor Dumas — was born in the
town of Dole, France, on Decera
ber 27, 1822. His father was an
old soldier, decorated on the field
of battle, who, after leaving the
array, earned his bread as a tanner.
In 1825 M. Pasteur moved from
Dole to the town of Arbois, on the
borders of the Cuisance, where his
son began his education in the
communal college. The boy was
exceedingly fond of fishing and of
sketching, and it was not until he
reached the age of fourteen that he
began study in earnest. There be
ing no professor of philosophy at
Arbois, Louis Pasteur moved to
Besangon, where he received the
degree of bachelier es lettres and
was at once appointed as one of the tutors. Here he studied the course in
mathematics necessary for admission into the Ecole Normale, in Paris, which he
entered in October, 1843. Already his passion for chemistry had shown itself,
and he took the lectures in that science delivered by M. Dumas at the Sorbonne,
and by M. Balard at the Ecole Normale. It vvas but a short time before he be
came a raarked raan in his class, especially for his intense devotion to experi
ment. Thanks to M. Delafosse, one of the lecturers of the Ecole Normale, his
attention vvas turned to crystallography, and a note from the German chemist,
Mitscherlich, communicated to the Academy of Sciences, set him on fire vvith
curiosity. Mitscherlich declared : " The paratartrate and the tartrate of soda and
ammonia have the same chemical coraposition, the same ervstalline form, the
sarae angles, the same specific weight, the same double refraction, and the same
inclination of the optic axes. Dissolved in water, their refraction is the same.
But while the dissolved tartrate causes the plane of polarized light to rotate, the
paratartrate exacts no such action."
* Cupyright, 189.1, by Selnlixr Hess.

DR. LOUIS PASTEUR 379
Pasteur at once instituted experinients resulting in the discovery of rainute
facets in the tartrate which gave it the power noted. He found in the paratar
trate these facets existed, but that there was an equal adraixture of right- and left-
handed crystals, and the one neutralized the effect of the othen He also discov
ered the left-handed tartrate. These discoveries at the opening of Pasteur's
career brought him at once to the front araong the scientific raen. He followed
thera with a profound invesrigation into the symmetry and dissymmetry of atoms,
and reached the conclusion that in these lay the basic difference between inor
ganic and organic matter, between the absence of life and life.
Nominated at the age of thirty-two as Dean of the Faculty des Sciences, at
Lille, Pasteur determined to devote a portion of his lectures to fermentation.
At that time ferments were believed to be, to quote Liebig, " Nitrogenous sub
stances — albumin, fibrin, casein; or the Uquids which embrace them — milk,
blood, urine — in a state of alteration which they undergo in contact with ain"
Pasteur examined the lactic ferment and found little rods, yj-^o y^ inch in length,
which nipped theraselves in the centre, divided into two, grew to full length and
divided again, and these living things he declared to be the active principles of
the ferraent. He raade a mixture of yeast, chalk, sugar, and water, added sorae
of the rods, and got fermentation. He then made a mixture of sugar, water,
phosphate of potash, and magnesia, and introducing fresh cells, fermentation
followed. Liebig's theory of the nitrogenous character of the ferment disap
peared when fermentation was caused in a mixture having no nitrogenous ele
raents. Pasteur had discovered that ferraentation was a phenoraenon of nutrition ; it
followed the increase and growth of the little rods. The next step was the dis
covery of the ferraent of butyric acid, a species of vibrio consisting of little rods
united in chains of two or three and possessed of movement. He found these
vibrios lived without air. Further experiments showed there were ferments to
which air was necessary, called by Pasteur the cerobies, and others to whom oxy
gen was fatal, the ancerobies. He proved, also, by an exhaustive series of experi
ments, that what is called putrefaction of aniraal raatter is the result of the cora
bined work of the cerobies and the ancerobies, which reduce that part not taken
up by oxygen to dead organic matter, ready in its turn to forra food for living
things. His attention having been turned to the needs of the vinegar raakers of Or
leans, Pasteur began the exaraination of the ferment which produces vinegar
from wine. He found this in the mycoderm aceto, a mould-like plant vvhich has
the power of developing acetic acid from alcohol. As the result of his investi-
o-ation, the manufacturers of vinegar in France vvere able to do away with the
cumbrous process they had long followed, and to make vinegar, not only more
cheaply, but of very rauch better quality. But during these experiments Pasteur
found the temperature of 65° C. was sufficient to kill the mycoderm. When,
then, the wine makers of France appealed to him to investigate the "diseases"
of wine, "he was ready for the work.

380 WORKMEN AND HEROES
Before this, however, he had examined the clairas of Pouchet and others to
their alleged discov^ery of spontaneous generation ; in other words, the produc
tion of life. Ranging hiraself against thera, Pasteur showed their experiments
not to have been conclusive, simply because they had not succeeded in excluding
the dust which contained germs of life in the shape of spores of microscopic plants.
The "diseases" of wine produce sour wine, wine that "spirits," "greasy"
wine, and bitter wine Pasteur found each to be due to a different microscopic
ferraent, all of which could be killed by heat. He placed bottles of wine in a
bath heated to 60° C, and invited the most experienced wine tasters of Paris to
try them afterward. The result of the test was the unanimous verdict that the
wines had not been injured in the least, and to-day these "diseases" of wine are
a thing of the past.
There are departments in France where the culture of the silk-worm is the
principal industry of the inhabitants. In 1849 ^ strange disease, called pebrine,
broke out among the worms ; they were unable to moult and died before the
cocoons were spun. It spread in the raost alarming manner until, from a crop
with an average of one hundred and thirty million francs a year, the production
of silk went to less than fifty millions. The silk cultivators sent for eggs — seed
is the technical name — to Italy and Greece, and for one season all went well.
Tbe next, the plague was as bad as ever. More than that, it spread to Italy,
Spain, Greece, and Turkey, until Japan was the only silk-producing country where
the worm was healthy. Societies and governments, as well as individuals, were
aghast, for the silk industry of the world was on the verge of annihilation, and
every reraedy the mind of raan could conceive was tried, only to be rejected. In
France alone the loss in 1865 was over one hundred million francs.
At the suggestion of Professor Dumas, the Government induced Pasteur to
examine into the " disease." He had seen in a report on the epidemic made by
M. de Quatrefages, that there were found in the diseased worms certain minute
corpuscles only to be seen under the microscope When in June, 1865, Pasteur
arrived in the town of Alais, he found these corpuscles without difficulty. He
traced them from the worm to the chrysalid, in the cocoon, and thence to the
moth ; he found worms hatched from the eggs laid by these moths invariably de
veloped the corpuscles. He crushed a corpuscular moth in water, painted a mul
berry leaf with it, fed it to a healthy worm, and the corpuscles developed. He
hatched eggs from moths free frora corpuscles and secured healthy worras. While
working on the " disease," Pasteur discovered in 1867 that the raortality araong
the worms was in part due to another disease, the flacherie, and this he found was
the result of iraperfect digestion.
Flacherie was contagious, and was caused by the ferraentation of the food eaten
in the body of the worm. The causes of this fermentation, the condition of the
leaves, the temperature, and others were pointed out As the result of five years'
work, Pasteur had restored the silk industry to its former position, and had shown
that the microscopic examination of the moth laying the eggs to be hatched vvas
a perfect safeguard against pebrine and flacherie.

PASTEUR IN HIS LABORATORY

ALBERT EDELFELT

ALBERT E DEL FELT.

rncro(Tavurc L-oup'l a I

DR. LOUIS PASTEUR 3S1
At the request of the emperor, Pasteur went to the Villa Vicentia, in Austria,
belonging to the prince imperial. For ten years the silk harvest there had not
paid the cost of the eggs.
Although he was just recovering from an attack of paralysis brought on by
overwork, Pasteur travelled to Austria, introduced his methods, and the sale of
the cocoons gave the villa a net profit of 26,000,000 francs. No wonder it vvas
said of him that his discoveries alone exceeded in money value to the French
people the war indemnity paid by them to the Germans.
Splenic fever, called charbon in France, had for years decimated the flocks in
FVance, Italy, Russia, Egypt, Hungary, and Brazil. It attacked the horse and
cow as well as the sheep, and human beings died of it when they developed ma
lignant pustule. Many scientific men had studied it, but Dn Davaine, in 1850,
was the first to find in the blood of a sheep that had died of the disease, "little
thread-like bodies about twice the length of a blood-corpuscle These little
bodies exhibit no spontaneous raotion."
Pasteur began the exaraination of splenic fever by securing some of the blood
from an animal dying from it. In the work before him he associated vvith him
self M. Joubert, one of his former pupils. A drop of the blood sown in the
water of yeast — the medium used for cultures by Pasteur at that time — produced
myriads of the rods, the bacilli or microbes. A drop of this taken at the end of
tvventy-four hours, and placed in a fresh flask of the medium, again produced thou
sands of the bacilli. Pasteur found that guinea-pigs inoculated from the first
flask developed the fever, and the sarae result followed when the inoculation was
frora the twentieth. He had proved, then, that splenic fever was produced by
the bacilli, by living organisras only to be seen with a powerful microscope.
While working on the bacilli of splenic fever, Pasteur had isolated the bacil
lus of chicken cholera, had cultivated it and had inoculated chickens with it, de
veloping the disease. He found that so long as the cultures were made from
flask to flask within twenty-four hours, the virus of the disease, that is, the power
of the baciUi to produce cholera in the fowls inoculated, remained the same and
the fowl died. But he discovered that if a flask containing the bacilli were left
exposed to the air for two weeks, and the fowls vvere then inoculated vvith bacilli
from this flask, they became sick, but did not die Following this up, he inocu
lated a hen that had recovered from a sickness so produced, with the bacilli in
their strongest and most virulent form, and the hen showed no effect whateven
Then he took two hens, one fresh from the coop and the other vvell again after
the sickness produced by the inoculation with the exposed bacUli, and inoculated
both with the blood of a hen that was dying of»chicken cholera. The first died,
the second was not affected. In other words, Pasteur had made the greatest dis
covery in physiology of this century. He had found it is possible to attenuate
the virus of a virulent disease, and to use that virus so attenuated as a vaccine
matter which will guard the animal vaccinated against the disease. Fle had taken
Jenner's discovery, and proved it applied to other diseases besides small-pox.
Pasteur's theory of the reason why any vaccine matter will have its prophylae-

3S2 WORKMEN AND HEROES
tic effect, is this : He believes there is in the blood of any animal subject to a
disease caused by bacilli sorae substance which is necessary to the sustenance of
those bacilli ; and when the bacilli, having an attenuated virus, are introduced,
they slowly consume all of this substance.
The substance being one which nature creates very slowly, no subsequent in
troduction of the bacilli, however virulent, can produce the disease until such time
shall have elapsed that a new supply of the substance shall have been secreted.
In this way he accounts for the fact that vaccination will protect from small-pox
for a more or less defined period of time.
Pasteur hastened to apply his discovery of the attenuation of the virus of
chicken cholera to the virus of splenic feven Here, however, he was raet with
a serious difficulty. The microbes of splenic fever, if left in the flask for forty-
eight hours, developed bright spots, and gradually into these spots the bacilli
themselves seemed to be absorbed. Pasteur found these spots were the spores or
seeds of the microbes, and he also found that, while the bacUli could be killed eas
ily in various ways, the spores possessed a rauch greater resistance. They could
be dried, for exaraple, and preserved in that state indefinitely. It was apparent
that the oxygenation which attenuated the venora of the bacilU of chicken chol
era was impossible with those of splenic fever if the bacilli of the latter disap
peared within a week, leaving the spores behind. But Pasteur had discovered be
fore this that, unless the temperature of a fowl were lowered artificially, inoculation
with the microbes of splenic fever would not produce the disease. From this he
argued that, as the heat of the fowl's body was sufficient to resist the contagion,
the bacilli themselves must be extremely sensitiv'e to variations in temperature.
He tried the experiment and found, by lowering the temperature of the flasks
containing the cultures, he could prevent the formation of the spores. He then
attenuated the venora of the splenic bacilli as he had that of the fowl cholera,
tried it on guinea-pigs, found they becarae sick and recovered ; inoculated them
with the baciUi of full strength, but with no result. Pursuing his experiments, he
discovered that he could by using vaccine-attenuated bacilli, of unequal strength,
cause any degree of sickness he pleased.
In the early part of 1881 Pasteur agreed to hold a public exhibition of his
vaccine for splenic fever, the aniraals to be supplied by the Society of Agricult
ure in Melun. The experiraent was begun on May 5th. Pasteur inoculated
twenty-four sheep, one goat, and six cows with six drops each of attenuated virus,
and twelve days afterward he reinoculated them with a stronger virus. On May
31st he reinoculated the thirty -one animals with the strongest virus of splenic
fev^er, and at the same time inoculated twenty-five sheep and four cows which
had not been vaccinated as were the others. On June 2d over two hundred peo
ple assembled at the farra to see the result The twenty-five sheep that had not
been vaccinated all died before that evening. The non-vaccinated cows had in
tense fever and great swellings, and could scarcely stand up. On the other hand,
the vaccinated sheep and cows were in full health and were feeding quietly.
Pasteur had conquered splenic feven

DR. LOUIS PASTEUR 3^3
Flaving attenuated the virus of these bacilU, Pasteur began a series of experi
ments to determine whether the attenuated virus could be intensified until its
former venom was obtained. This he succeeded in, and thus discovered what is
probably the key to the solution of the problem of the periodicity of epidemics
of contagious diseases, such as cholera. In 1882 Pasteur's attention was called to
a new disease, swine fever {rouget), which was ravaging the herds of swine in
France. He found the microbes, attenuated thera, vaccinated the pigs, and se
cured the raost favorable results. He also discovered that by passing the microbe
of a di.sease through an animal not subject to that disease, he attenuated it so far
as its effects on another were concerned.
It was in 1880 that Pasteur first began his experiments in hydrophobia. Se
curing the saliva of a child suffering from the disease, he inoculated rabbits with
it and they died in thirty-six hours. He examined the saliva and the blood of
the rabbits, and found in -both a new microbe (a minute disk having two points).
He established by repeated experiraents that hydrophobia is a disease of the
nerves, that a portion of the raeduUa oblongata, or of the spinal cord, is very
much more certain to produce the disease, when introduced into the blood or
placed on the brain, than is the saliva. He succeeded at last in isolating the mi
crobe, in making cultures of it, and then attenuating it, and in May, 1884, he pro
duced before a coraraission appointed by the Minister of Public Instruction the
following results :
Of six dogs unprotected by vaccination, three died as the results of bites of a
dog violently mad. Of eight unvaccinated dogs, six died after extra-venous in
oculation of rabic matter. Of five unvaccinated dogs, all died after inocula
tion, by trepanning, of the brain with rabic matten Of twenty-three vaccinated
dogs, not one was attacked with the disease after inoculation, in any fashion,
with the most virulent rabic matter procurable
During his long and busy Ufe Louis Pasteur has been honored after every
fashion known to men. He has opened the gates of knowledge wider than they
were ever opened before, and in his discovery of the germs of disease, and in his
srill more wonderful discovery of the possibility of attenuating those germs and
converting them into vaccines, he has revolurionized all ideas of physiology.
He is one of the greatest pioneers in science that has ever lived, and his vvork
will make his narae illustrious so long as raen shall continue on this earth. The
lesson of his life is the suprerae value of experiraent ; for, as was once said of
him by Professor Dumas, " Pasteur is never mistaken, because he never asserts
anything he cannot show another man how to prove."

384

WORKMEN AND HEROES

GENERAL CHARLES GEORGE GORDON
By Colonel R. H. Veitch, R.E.

1833-1885

Cm (

lARLES George Gordon, known as
Chinese Gordon, raajor-general, C. B.,
royal engineers, fourth son of Lieutenant-
general Henry WiUiara Gordon, royal artil
lery, and Elizabeth, daughter of Sarauel
Enderby, of Croora's Hill, Blackheath, was
born at Woolwich on January 28, 1833.
He was sent to school at Taunton in 1843,
and entered the Royal Military Academy
at Woolwich in 1848. He obtained a com
mission in the royal engineers on June 23,
1852, and, after the usual course of study at
Chatham was quartered for a short time at
Perabroke Dock. In December, 1854, he
received his orders for the Crimea, and
reached Balaklava on January i, 1855. As
a young engineer subaltern serving in the
trenches, his daring was conspicuous, while
his special aptitude for obtaining a personal
knowledge of the movements of the enemy
was a matter of common observation among
his brother officers. He was wounded on
June 6, 1855, and was present at the attack on the Redan on June i8th. On
the surrender of Sebastopol Gordon accompanied the expedition to Kinburn,
and on his return was employed on the demoUtion of the Sebastopol docks. For
his services in the Criraea Gordon received the British war raedal and clasp, the
Turkish war raedal, and the French Legion of Honon
In May, 1856, in company with lieutenant (now major-general) E. R. James,
R.E., he joined Colonel (now General Sir) E. Stanton, R.E., in Bessarabia, as
assistant commissioner for the delimitation of the new frontier line. This duty
was completed in AprU, 1857, and he was then sent vvith Lieutenant James
in a similar capacity to Erzeroum, where Colonel (novv General Sir) Lintorn
Simmons was the English commissioner for the Asiatic frontier boundary. The
vvork was accomplished by the following October, when Gordon returned to
England. In the spring of 1858 he and Lieutenant James were sent as com
missioners to the Armenian frontier to superintend the erection of the boundarv
posts of the line they had previously surveyed. This was finished in Novemben

GENERAL CHARLES GEORGE GORDON 38-5
and Gordon returned home, having acquired an 'intimate knowledge of the
people of the districts visited.
On April i, 1859, Gordon was proraoted captain, and about the sarae time
appointed second adjutant of the corps at Chathara, a post he held for litrie
raore than a year, for, in the summer of i860, he joined the forces of Sir James
Hope Grant, operating with the French against China. He overtook the allied
army at Tientsin, and was present in October at the capture of Pekin and the
piUage and destrucrion of the emperor's suramer palace. For his services in this
campaign he receiv^ed the British war medal with clasp for Pekin and a brevet
majority in December, 1862. Gordon commanded the royal engineers at Tientsin,
when the British forces remained there under Sir Charles Staveley, and vvhile
thus employed made several expeditions into the interior, in one of which he
explored a considerable secrion of the great wall of China. In April, 1862, he
was summoned to Shanghai to assist in the operations consequent upon the
determination of Sir Charles Staveley to keep a radius of thirty miles round the
city clear of the rebel Taipings. Gordon took part as commanding royal en
gineer, in the storming of Sing-poo and several other fortified towns and in
clearing the rebels out of Kah-ding. He was afterward employed in surveying
the country round Shanghai.
The Taiping rebellion was of so barbarous a nature that its suppression had
become necessary in the interest of civilization. A force raised at the expense
of the Shanghai merchants, and supported by the Chinese Government, had been
for sorae years struggling against its prowess. This force, known as the " Ever
Victorious Array," was defeated at Taitsan, February 22, 1863. Li Hung
Chang, governor-general of the Kiang provinces, then applied to the British
coramander-in-chief for the services of an English officer, and Gordon was au
thorized to accept the coraraand. He arrived at Sung Kiong and entered on his
new duties as a raandarin and lieutenant-colonel in the Chinese service on March
24, 1863. His force was composed of some three to four thousand Chinese,
officered by 150 Europeans of almost every nationality and often of doubtful
characten By the indomitable will of its commander this heterogeneous body
was moulded into a little army, vvho.se high-sounding title of " Ever \rictorious "
became a reality, and in less than two years, after thirty-three engagements, the
power of the Taipings was completely broken and the rebellion staraped out.
The maintenance of discipline was a perpetual struggle, and at one time there
was a. mutiny which was only quelled by shooting the ringleader on the spot.
Before the sumraer of 1863 was over, Gordon captured Kahpoo, Wokong, and
Patachiaow, on the south of Soo-chow, the great rebel stronghold, and, sweeping
round to the north, -secured Leeku, AVanti, and Fusaiqwan, so that by October
Soo-chow was corapletely invested. On Noveraber 29th the outworks were
captured by assault and the city surrendered on December 6th. Gordon vvas
always in front in all these storming parties, carrving no other weapon than a lit
rie cane His men called it his " raagic wand," regarding it as a charm that pro
tected his life and led them on to victorv.
25

386 WORKMEN AND HEROES
When Soo-chow fell, Gordon had stipulated with the governor-general, Li,
for the lives of the Wangs (rebel leaders). They vvere treacherously murdered
by Li's orders. Indignant at this perfidy, Gordon refused to serve any longer
with Governor Li, and when on January i, 1864, money and rewards were
heaped upon him by the emperor, declined them aU, saying that he received the
approbation of the emperor vvith every gratification, but regretted most sincerely
that, "owing to the circumstances which occurred since the capture of Soo-
chow, he was unable to receive any mark of his raajesty the eraperors recogni
tion." After some months of inaction it becarae evident that if Gordon did not again
take the field the Taipings would regain the rescued country. On the urgent rep
resentations of the British envoy at Pekin, Governor Li was corapelled to issue
a proclamation exonerating Gordon from all complicity in the raurder of the
Wangs. Gordon then reluctantly consented to continue his services, on the dis
tinct understanding that in any future capitulation he should not be interfered
with. In Deceraber, 1863, a fresh carapaign was commenced, and during the fol
lowing raonths no fewer than seven towns were captured or surrendered. In
February, 1864, Yesing and Liyangwere taken, but at Kintang Gordon met with
a reverse and was himself wounded for the first tirae. He nevertheless continued
to give his orders until he had to be carried to his boat After some other mis
haps he carried Chan-chu-fu by assault on April 27th. The garrison consisted of
20,000 men, of whom 1,500 were killed. This victory not only ended the cam
paign but completely destroyed the rebellion, and the Chinese regular forces were
enabled to occupy Nankin in the July following. The large money present of
fered to Gordon by the eraperor was again declined, although he had spent his
pay proraoting the efficiency of his force, so that he wrote home, " I shall leave
China as poor as when I entered it" The emperor, however, bestowed upon him
the yellow jacket and peacock's feather of a mandarin of the first class, with the
title of Ti-Tu, the highest military rank in China, and a gold medal of distinction
of the first class. The raerchants of Shanghai presented him with an address ex
pressing their adrairation of his conduct of the wan
On his return home, in the beginning of 1865, he was raade a C. B., having
previously received his brevet as lieutenant-colonel in February, 1864. In Sep
teraber, 1865, he was appointed commanding royal engineer at Gravesend, and for
the next six years carried out the ordinary duties of the corps, superintending the
construction of the forts for the defence of the Thames. During this quiet and
uneventful period of routine work he devoted his spare time to the poor and sick
of the neighborhood, stinting himself that he raight have larger means wherewith
to relieve others. He took special interest in the infirmary and the ragged schools.
He took many of the boys from the schools into his own house, starting them in
life by sending them to sea, and he continued to watch the future progress of his
kings, as he called them, with never-failing sympathy.
In October, 1871, Gordon was appointed British member of the international
commission at Galatz for the iraproveraent of the navigation of the Sulina raouth

GENERAL CHARLES GEORGE GORDON 387
of the Danube, in accordance with the Treaty of Paris. During his tenure of
this office he accompanied General Sir John Adye to the Crimea to report on
the British cemeteries there. On his way back to Galatz, in Noveraber, 1872, he
met Nubar Pasha at Constantinople, who sounded hira as to his succeeding Sir
Sarauel Baker in the Soudan. The following year Gordon visited Cairo on his
way home, and on the resignation of Sir Samuel Baker was appointed governor
of the equatorial provinces of Central Africa, with a salary of ;^i 0,000 a yean
He declined to receive more than ^^2,000.
Gordon went to Egypt in the beginning of 1874, and left Cairo in February
for Gondokoro, the seat of his government, travelling by the Suez-Swakin-Berber
route. He reached Khartoum on March 13th, stopped only a fevv days to issue a
proclamation and make arrangements for men and supplies, then, continuing his
journey, arrived at Gondokoro on April i6th. The garrison of Gondokoro at
this time did not dare to move out of the place except in armed bands ; but in
the course of a year the confidence of the natives had been gained, the country
made safe, eight stations formed and garrisoned, the government monopoly of
ivory enforced, and sufficient money sent to Cairo to pay all the expenses of the
expedition. At the close of the year, having already lost by sickness eight mera
bers of his small European staff, Gordon transferred the seat of government from
the unhealthy station, Gondokoro, to Laido. By the end of 1875 Gondokoro
and Duffh had been joined by a chain of fortified posts, a day's journey apart,
the slave-dealers had been dispersed, and a letter post organized to travel regu
larly between Cairo and the verge of the Albert Nyanza, over two thousand
miles as the crow flies.
Gordon had also visited Magungo, Murchison Falls, and Chibero, with a view
to a further line of fortified posts, and he estabUshed for the first time, by per
sonal observation, the course of the Victoria Nile into Lake Albert. Although
he had accomplished a great work since his arrival, his efforts to put down the
slave trade were thwarted by Ismail Pasha Yacoub, governor-general of the Sou
dan, and were likely to prove abortive so long as the Soudan remained a distinct
government from that of the equatorial provinces. He, therefore, at the end of
1876, resigned his appointment and returned to England. Strong pressure was
put upon hira by the khedive to return, and on January 31, 1877, he left for
Cairo, where he received the combined appointment of governor-general of the
Soudan, Darfour, the equatorial provinces, and the Red Sea littoral, on the
understanding that his efforts vvere to be directed to the improvement of the
means of conimunication and the absolute suppression of the slave trade. Gor
don first visited Abyssinia, where Walad el Michael vvas giving a great deal of
trouble on the Egyptian frontien He settled the difficulty for a time and trav^-
elled across country to Khartoum, where he was installed as governor-general.
May 5th. After a short stay there he hastened to Darfour, which vvas in revolt ;
with a small force and rapid movements he quelled the rising, and, bv the humane
consideration he showed for the suffering people, won their confidence and paci
fied the province. Before this work vvas completelv accomplished his attention

388 WORKMEN AND HEROES
vvas called away by the slave-dealers, who, headed by Suleiman, son of the
notorious Zebehr, vvith 6,000 armed men, had moved on Dara from their strong
hold, Shaka. Gordon left Fischer on August 31, 1877, vvith a small escort,
which he soon outstripped, and in a day and a half, having covered eighty-five
miles on a camel, entered Dara alone, to the surprise of its sraall garrison. • The
following raorning, attended by a small escort, he rode into the rebel camp, up
braided Suleiraan with his disloyalty, and announced his intention to disarm the
band and break thera up. Gordon's fearless bearing and strong will secured his
object, and Suleiman returned with his men to Shaka.
They rose again ; and Gordon's Italian aide, Gessi, after a year's marching
and fighting, succeeded in capturing Suleiman, and some of the chief slave-deal
ers with him. They vvere tried as rebels and shot. The suppression of the slave
trade had thus been practically accoraplished when on July ist news arrived of the
deposition of Ismail and the succession of Tewfik, which determined Gordon to
resign his appointment On arriving at Cairo, the kh(5dive induced him finst to
undertake a mission to Abyssinia to prevent, if possible, an impending war with
that country. Gordon went, saw King John, at Debra Tabor, but could arrive
at no satisfactory understanding with him, and was abruptly dismissed. On his
way to Kassala he was made prisoner to King John's men and carried to Gar-
ramudhiri, where he was left to find his way with his little party over the snowy
mountains to the Red Sea. He reached Massowah on December 8, 1879, '^^'^d
on his return to Cairo, the khedive accepted his resignation. He arrived in Eng
land early in January, 1880. During his service under the khddive, Gordon re
ceived both the second- and first-class of the order of the Medjidieh.
His constitution was so rauch irapaired by his sojournings in so deadly a cli
mate that his medical advisers sent him to Switzerland to recruit He returned
to England, in April, 1880, and in the following month accompanied the Mar
quis of Ripon, the new Viceroy of India, to that country as his private secretary.
He resigned almost immediately, and was invited to China to advise the Chinese
Government in connection vvith their then strained relations with Russia. Gor
don accepted at once, and although difficulties were raised by the home authori
ties, he reached Hongkong on July 2d, and went on by Shanghai and Chefoo to
Tientsin to meet his old friend, Li Hung Chang, who, with Prince Kung, headed
the peace party. From Tientsin, Gordon vvent to Pekin, and his wise and disin
terested counsels in favor of peaee at length carried the day.
In 1 88 1 he went to Mauritius as coramanding royal engineer, and while there
was proraoted major-general. In 1882, he was at the Cape Colonv, endeavor
ing to arrange a peace with the natives of Basutoland ; but he failed, largely
through the treachery of the Cape officials.
The success of the Mahdi in the Soudan and the catastrophe to Hicks Pasha,
in November, 1883, had induced the British Government, not only to decline any
military assistance to enable the Egyptian Government to hold the Soudan, but
to insist upon its abandonraent by the khedive. To do this it was necessary to
bring away the garrisons scattered all over the country, and such of the Egyptian

GORDON ATTACKED BY EL MAHOrS ARABS.

GENERAL CHARLES GEORGE GORDON 389
popularion as might object to remain. To Gordon was intrusted the withdrawal
of the garrisons and the evacuation of the Soudan. At Cairo his functions were
considerably extended. He was appointed, with the consent of the British Gov
ernment, governor-general of the Soudan, and was instructed, not only to effect
the evacuation of the country, but to take steps to leave behind an organized
independent government
By the month of March, having succeeded in sending some two thousand five
hundred people down the Nile into safety, Gardon found himself getting
hemmed in by the Mahdi and no assistance coming from without On April i6,
1884, his last telegram before the wires were cut complained bitterly of the neg
lect of the Governraent. The attack of Khartoura began on March 12th, and
from that time to its fall Gordon carried on the defence with consummate skill.
His resources were small, his troops few, and his European assistants could be
counted on the fingers of one hand ; yet h'e managed to convert his river steamers
into ironclads, to build new ones, to raake and lay down land mines, to place
wire entanglements, and to execute frequent sorties, vvhile he kept up the spirits
and courage of his followers by striking medals in honor of their bravery, and
baffied a fanatic and determined foe for over ten months, during the latter part
of which the people who trusted him were perishing from disease and famine, and
the grip of the enemy was tightening.
In April the necessity of a relief expedition vvas pressed upon the Government
at home, but without avail. In May popular feeling found vent, not only in pub
lic meetings but in the House of Comraons, when a vote of censure on the
Government was lost by only twenty-eight votes. Eventually, proposals were
made to send a relief expedition from Cairo in the autumn, and on August 5th a
vote of credit for ^300,000 was taken for " operations for the relief of General
Gordon, should it become necessary, and to make certain preparations in respect
thereof." Even when it was decided that Lord Wolseley should take command
of a relief expedirion up the Nile, hesitation continued to mark the proceedings
of the Governraent, and time, so valuable on account of the rising of the Nile,
was lost It was September ist before Lord Wolseley was able to leave Eng
land. Then everything was done, but the delay had been fatal.
In September, 1884, having driven the rebels out of Berber, Gordon author
ized his companions. Colonel Stewart and Frank Povver {Times correspon
dent), to go down the river in the steamer Abbas to open coramunication with
Dongola: The stearaer struck on a rock, and they were both treacherouslv mur
dered. Gordon was now the only Englishraan in Khartoum. On December
20th, Lord Wolseley launched Sir Herbert Stewart's expedition from Korti
across the desert to Metemmeh, where, after two severe engagements, it arrived
on January 20, 1885, under command of Sir Charies Wilson, Stewart having been
mortally wounded. In order to succor the advancing force, Gordon had deprived
himself for three raonths of five out of his seven stearaers. These five steamers,
fully armed equipped, and provisioned, were in waiting, and in thera were his
diaries and letters up to December 14th. On that date he wrote to Major Wat-

390 WORKMEN AND HEROES
son, RE., at Cairo, that he thought the game was up, and a catastrophe raight
be expected in ten days' time, and sent his adieux to all. On the same day he
wrote to his sister : " I am quite happy, thank God, and like Lawrence, I have
tried to do my duty." His diary ended on the same day with : " I have done the
best for the honor of my country. Good-by." It was necessary for the safety of
his troops that Wilson should first raake a reconnoissance down the river toward
Berber before going to Khartoura, and when he started up the river, on January
24th, the difficulties of navigation vvere so great that it was midday on the 28th
before the goal was reached, and then only to find it in the hands of the Mahdi,
Khartoura having fallen early on the 26th, after a siege of 317 days.
From the most accurate information since obtained, it appears that the garri
son, early in January, had been reduced to great straits for want of food, and great
numbers of the inhabitants had availed themselves of Gordon's permission to join
the Mahdi. Omdurman, opposite to Khartoum, on the west bank of the river,
fell about January 13th, and about the i8th a sortie was made, in which some se
rious fighting took place. The state of the garrison then grew desperate. Gor
don continually visited the posts by night as vvell as day, and encouraged the
famished garrison. The news of Sir Herbert Stewart's expedition, and the suc
cessful engagements it had fought on the way to Metemmeh, determined the
Mahdi to storm Khartoum before reinforcements could arrive for its relief. The
attack was raade on the south front at 3.30 a.m., on Monday, January 26, 1885.
The defence was half-hearted, treachery was at vvork, and Gordon received no
tidings of the assault. The rebels made good their entrance, and then a general
massacre ensued. The accounts of Gordon's death are confused and conflicting,
but they all agree in stating that he was killed near the gate of the palace, and
his head carried to the Mahdi's camp.
Intelligence of the catastrophe reached England on Thursday, February 5th.
The outburst of popular grief, not only in this country and her colonies, but also
among foreign nations, has hardly been paralleled. It vvas universally acknowl
edged that the world had lost a hero. Friday, March 13th, was then observed as
a day of national mourning, and special services were held in the cathedrals and
in many churches of the land, those at Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's being
attended by the royal family, members of both houses of parliament, and repre
sentatives of the naval and military services. Parliament voted a national monu
ment to be placed in Trafalgar Square, and a sura of ^20,000 to his relatives.
More general expression was given to the people's admiration of Gordon's char
acter by the institution of the " Gordon Boys' Home " for homeless and destitute
boys. Gordon's sister presented to the town of Southarapton her brother's li
brary, in March, 1889.
Gordon's character was unique. Siraple-rainded, raodest, and alraost mor
bidly retiring, he was fearless and outspoken when occasion required. Strong in
will and prompt in action, with a naturally hot temper, he was yet forgiving to
a fault. Somewhat brusque in manner, his disposition was singularly sympa
thetic and attractive, winning all hearts. Weakness and suffering at once en-

GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER

391

listed his interest. Caring nothing for what was said of hira, he was indifferent
to praise or reward, and had a supreme conterapt for raoney. His whole being
was dominated by a Christian faith, at once so real and so earnest that, although
his reUgious views were tinged with mysticism, the object of his life was the en
tire surrender of himself to work out whatever he believed to be the will of God.

GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER*

By Elbridge S. Brooks

(1839-1876)

D

^ARiNG is always populan The dashing fighter
outranks the tactician and takes precedence over
the engineer when the people's plaudits for valor fill
the air. To be the beau sabreur of the arm)', as was
Murat, in Napoleon's day, and as Custer was in
Grant's, is as glorious as it is dramatic, as inspiring
as it is picturesque. There were, in fact, raany points
of reserablance between these two dashing cavalry
leaders — Murat, the Frenchman, and Custer, the
American. Both smelled powder as the aides-de
camp of their chiefs ; both rose rapidly from grade to
grade, and from rank to rank, until they stood at the top ; both labored at the
end under the burden of criticism and detraction ; and both met their death
through a mistake, and fell Uke brave and gallant soldiers.
George Armstrong Custer was born at New Ruraley, in the State of Ohio,
on December 5, 1839. His father was a blacksmith and farmer, of German
stock, a descendant of a Hessian officer named Kustu— one among many who
came to conquer and remained to Uve and die as citizens of the land they had
failed to subjugate.
Young Custer was educated in the district school of New Ruraley, and in the
academy at Monroe, in Michigan, where he went in 1849 to live with his sister
Lydia. Returning to Ohio he taught sehool for a year or more in Hopedale,
near New Ruraley, and in 1857 was able to see his boyish dream eome true, and,
as a lad of seventeen, enter the United States Military Acaderay at West Point.
Cadet Custer graduated frora West Point in 1861, and hurried to the front
at once, eager for service, for the war between the States had begun. He was
raade bearer of despatches by General Scott ; he fought at Bull Run as lieuten
ant in the Second United States Cavalry, to which he had been assigned ; he con
ducted successfully balloon reconnoissance along the Confederate lines, and so
inspired General McClellan by his energy, courage, and persistence that he was
appointed aide-de-camp to the general, with the rank of captain.
* Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

392 WORKMEN AND HEROES
For his dash and daring in the Rappahannock battles he was advanced by
speedy promotions to the rank of brigadier-general of volunteers, his commission
dating frora June, 1863, just one year after his appointment as aide-de-camp to
McClellan. He won his brevet as raajor in the regular army for his briUiant
leadership of cavalry at Gettysburg ; he had a horse shot under him while head
ing the charge at Culpepper, and gained his brevet as lieutenant-colonel of reg
ulars for his gaUantry in Sheridan's fights about Richmond, in the spring of
1864. He won renown and glory in Sheridan's famous raid on Richraond, by
saving his brigade-colors at the battle of Trevillion Station, and, in Septeraber,
1864, his dashing valor at Winchester procured him his brevet as colonel of
regulars and the volunteer rank of raajor-general. He won the battle of Wood
stock by a wonderful cavalry engageraent, routing the enemy, whom he drove
for twenty-six miles, and capturing all their guns save one. In the bloody battle
of Cedar Creek he fought at the head of the Third Division of Cavalry frora start
to finish, helping to turn a rout into a victory and recapturing all the guns and
colors the Union troops had lost early in the action, besides taking all the Confed
erate flags and cannon. At Waynesboro, in the spring of 1865, still leading the
Third Division, he won the day unaided ; he captured 1,600 prisoners, with all the
eneray's carap equipage, guns, and colors, and then turning for another onset,
Custer drove the Confederate General Early from the field, destroying his com
mand, scattering his army, and ending the campaign, so far as Early's army was
concerned. For this brilliant engagement, and for his bravery at the battles of
Five Forks and Dinwiddle Court-House, on April i, 1865, Custer was brevetted
brigadier-general in the regular army ; and, as he had won the first colors taken
by the Array of the Potoraac in 1862, so, in 1865, he receiv^ed the first flag of
truce from Lee's array when the end at last carae, and vvas present at the his
toric surrender at Appomattox. Then he secured his last promotion. He was
brevetted major-general in the regular army and appointed major-general of vol
unteers. It was a brilliant and exceptional record. He had fought in all the battles
of the Array of the Potoraac save one. He was Sheridan's most trusted and
favorite cavalry officen In less than four years he had advanced from captain of
volunteers to major-general, and from lieutenant to major-general in the regular
array. He was but thirty-three when the war closed, and all his proraotions had
been won by his bravery, his dash, his daring, and his good leadership. Durin,g
the last six raonths of the war the Third Division of Cavalry, led by Custer, capt
ured in open fight over one hundred pieces of artillery, sixty-five battle flags, and
ten thousand prisoners. It vvas a record of vvhich any soldier raight be proud,
and it rnade Custer at once the idol of his hard-riding troopers, and one of the
popular heroes of the day. At the great review in Washington he rode near the
head of the parade, leading what vvas popularly called " the most gallant cav^alry
division of the age," greeted with cheers and flowers along the line of march.
Custer's active service did not close with the wan He was sent to Texas as
commander of a cavalry division, and in November, 1865, was made chief of cav-

GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER 393
airy. In February, 1866, he was mustered out of service as raajor-general of volun
teers and becarae again captain in the regular army, "on leave." ^President John
son denied him the leave of absence he asked for to fight under Juarez in Mexico
against Maximilian, the usurper, and in July, 1866, he received his commission as
lieutenant-colonel of the newly formed Seventh Cavalry, United States Army—
the regiment that he made into Indian fighters and served with until the end.
In November, 1866, he joined his regiment at Fort Riley, and was soon fighting
Indians on the plains. He utterly defeated the hostile Cheyennes, Arapahoes,
and Kiowas at the battle of the Washita, in the Indian Territory, in November,
1871 ; he was on post duty in Kentucky until 1873, and then again on the plains,
where, on August 4, 1873, he whipped the hostile Sioux at the battle of Tongue
River, in the Yellowstone country, and again, on the nth of the sarae raonth,
at the battle of the Big Horn. In the suraraer of 1874 he led an expedition of
exploration and discovery into the Black Hills, in the Dakota country, and in
May, 1876, led his regiment in what proved to be his last campaign, a raarch
against the hostile Sioux in the unexplored region of the Little -Big Horn.
Here, with less than three hundred men, he faced the confederated Sioux, nura
bering thousands of warriors, and in a desperate and characteristic engageraent
closed the record of a life of brilliant effort and daring by standing at bay, against
the tremendous odds of ten to one, untU he and his entire command fell to a
man, fighting desperately to the end.
Custer was gallant, but sometimes indiscreet ; he was daring, but often care
less of consequences ; and when in positions of coramand he was apt to be im
patient of cowardice and of greed. So he raised up enemies for himself, and
twice these enemies sought and nearly accomplished his downfaU. His last
carapaign was fought under the burden of an apparent official censure, galling to
a raan of Cu.ster's impetuous nature, all the more so as he knew it to be unmer
ited and unjust. There is little doubt that this weight of wrong engendered a
spirit of recklessness, foreign even to his daring nature, and led him to take risks
he would not otherwise have accepted, simply because he felt the necessity for
action and believed that through valor would come his speediest vindication.
Flad he been supported by those he relied upon he might, even in the face of
the overpowering odds marshalled against hira, have come off victorious, instead
of dying, an unnecessary sacrifice, like another Roland, and, if vve accept the
legends, at just Roland's age. It is because that tragic ending of a valiant life
was, viewed from the picturesque stand-point, its logical and draraatic conclusion,
that Araerican tradition and popular applause will, in the years to come, reraera
ber Custer, not so much for the dash at Winchester, the daring at Waynesboro,
or the valor at Five Forks, as for his immortal last stand on the banks of the
Litrie Big Horn, when he and his brave troopers vvent down in death togethen
General Custer was the born soldier in face and figure. Lithe, broad-shoul
dered, and sinewy in frame, nearly six feet in height, blue-eyed and golden-haired,
he was the beau ideal cavalry leader — alert, active, ready, and responsive, vvith an
eve to all details, a love for the picturesque in bearing and equipment, of great

394 WORKMEN AND HEROES
endurance, abstemious, healthy, and strong, and as much at horae in the saddle
and with the sabre as in his own little house in Monroe or by his blazing camp-
fire. He married, in February, 1864, Elizabeth Bacon, a daughter of Judge Dan
iel S. Bacon, of Monroe. For ten years his wife was his constant companion in
carap and in frontier service, and she has vvritten raany sketches of his active life
in the saddle and his characteristics as soldier and as man.
General Custer, at the tirae of his death, was engaged on a series of " War
Meraoirs," and his articles on frontier life and army experiences found ready ac
ceptance and wide favon He was, undoubtedly, America's best cavalry leader,
and won a place as " a perfect general of horse " beside the world's dashing war-
riders — frora Hannibal's "Thunderbolt," Mago the Carthaginian, to Maurice of
Nassau and the " Golden Eagle," Murat the Frenchraan.
Fourteen of the thirty-seven years he lived were spent in actual service in the
camp or on the battle-field. He was a brigadier-general at 'twenty-three and a
major-general at twenty-five In the height of his popularity and his phenom
enal success as a cavalry leader, he was a picturesque and familiar figure to friend
and foe alike, as in his broad cavalier's hat, his gold-bedizened jacket, and high
cavalry boots, with his long hair streaming in the wind, he would ride like a tor
nado, to the accompaniraent of " Garry Owen," his favorite battle-air, carrying
all before him — a subject worthy the pencil of a Vandyke, the very type of the
dashing trooper of roraance. But that there was a method in his dash and a
practical eleraent in his daring, even the generals he outranked and the civilians
who tried to direct him would admit, and to be the choice of McClellan and the
favorite of Sheridan gave the assurance of worth to his leadership and of value
to his valor.
In 1877 Custer's reraains were removed to the graveyard at West Point from
the battle-field of the Little Big Horn, where he had first been buried amid the
fallen heroes of his own brave band. In 1879 the Government made the battle
ground where Custer raet his death a national cemetery, and raised a monument,
upon which appeared the naraes and rank of all those who fell in that needless
and fatal, but heroic, fight.

' ^ ' , '^^¥'sf

A R WAUD P NXIT

CUSTER'S LAST FIGHT.

HENRY M. STANLEY

395

HENRY M. STANLEY*

By Noah Brooks

(born 1 841)

T

wo white men, one from
America and the other
from England, met in the heart
of Equatorial Africa, on the
shores of Lake Tanganyika,
November 10, 1871. This was
their first meeting. The Eng-
li.shman had been lost to the
outside world for more than
two years, and the American
had been looking for him since
the early part of 1871. Final
ly, after many great difficulties
and perils, the American found
the lost explorer, surrounded by
his black guards, friends, and
companions. They had dimly
heard of each other through the
vague rumors of the natives for
months past, and now raeeting
face to face, the American lift
ing his cap, said, " Dr. Living
stone, I presume." The Eng
lishman nodded an affirmative
reply, and the other said, " I am Henry M. Stanley."
It was in this simple yet dramatic way that two of the most famous African
travellers of modern times met in the heart of the Dark Continent Quite as
dramatic, perhaps, was the departure of Stanley in pursuit of Livingstone. Stan
ley was not widely known previous to his expedition to Africa in search of Liv
ingstone. He had served as a war correspondent of one of the great New York
newspapers for several years, and was known to his craft as a faithful, accurate,
and courageous newspaper correspondent. He had dared many dangers, and had
encountered and overcome obstacles that would have dismayed a less intrepid soul.
In 1868 he served the New York Herald as correspondent during the war in
Abyssinia which raged between the British and King Theodore. It was here he
got his first taste of African adventure. It was not a long wan The British
shut up King Theodore in the fortress of Magdala, vvhere he perished miserably
'Copyright, 1894, by .Selmar Hess.

396 WORKMEN AND HEROES
by his own hand in the flames of his burning citadel. Thence Stanley went to
Spain, where a great civil war had broken out, and he witnessed the sacking of
cities, the prosecution of sieges, and battles large and small innumerable.
This war over, in the autumn of 1869, the civilized world vvas w^ondering
whether Dn Livingstone, the African missionary and explorer, were dead or
alive. Dn Livingstone, who was of Scottish birth and was in the service of the
London Missionary Society, had been long laboring in South Africa, a country
of which the outer world then knew but very httle. Along the coast here and
there were points occupied temporarily by white traders and travellers, but the
interior of the Dark Conrinent was known only through the tales of the slave-
catchers, who brought to the coast the black people .they had gathered like so
many cattle in the interion Dn Livingstone was doing vvhat he could to spread
the light of the Christian religion through those benighted regions. His first
departure into the interior of Africa vvas from Cape Town, in 1840, and for raore
than thirty-three years he spent his life in the arduous work to which he had con
secrated himself. In 1858 he had returned to England and pubUshed a book,
giving an account of his missionary labors and his discoveries, and, liberally pro
vided with means, he returned to Africa to carry on his work. He was accom
panied by his wife, who died in the interior of Africa in 1862. In 1863 he re
turned to England and published a second book, giving some further account
of his explorations.
Again, in 1865, he returned to Africa, and for more than a year no word came
from hira, but there ran a rumor that he had been killed by the savages. Early
in 1869, however, letters from Dr. Livingstone, written a year before, were re
ceived on the coast, showing that he was alive and weU. He had travelled many
thousands of miles, being the first white man that had ever penetrated those
dark and mysterious regions in the heart of Africa. But novv, in the au
tumn of 1869, more than twenty months had passed since any word of his had
come out of the darkness, and the world was ready to believe that the faithful
missionary and explorer had dared his fate too often, and had died in the jungles
of Africa. It was at this time that Stanley, resting after a long and arduous campaign
in Spain, received frora James Gordon Bennett, who was then in Paris, a tele
gram sumraoning hira to an interview in that city. Arriving at the French capi
tal early in the raorning, Stanley went straight to Mn Bennett's lodgings, before
that .gentleman had risen frora his bed. In answer to his knock a voice com
raanded hira to enten The two raen had not raet in many years. Stanley was
bronzed and aged by sun and storm, and Bennett, surprised, abruptly asked,
" Who are you ?"
" I am Stanley, and I have eome to answer your raessage," vvas the reply.
Bennett motioned Stanley to a seat, and after a moment's pause, asked :
"Will you go to Africa and find Livingstone?"
Stanley was startled. For a moment he reflected ; then he replied, " I wiU ; "
and before he left the room his agreement vvith Bennett vvas practically con-

HENRY M. STANLEY 397
eluded, and sorae of the larger details of the expedition were raapped out, and
Stanley left the hotel clothed with a coraraission to find Livingstone, and prora
ised all needed funds for expenses and for the relief of the great African ex
plorer, should he be in need, as it was expected he would be found, if at all.
Stanley first went to the east coast of Africa, where he arrived in the early
part of 1871. Months were consuraed at Zanzibar in making ready the expedi
tion with which he was to penetrate into the interior. Several caravans or trains
were despatched, one after the other, loaded with ammunition, arms, provisions,
and the necessaries of life, and with a large supply of goods with which to pur
chase a right of way through hostile or unfriendly kingdoras and states.
Bringing up the rear of these various trains, Stanley and his arraed force left
the coast of Africa, March 21, 1871. He had with him 192 persons, negroes
and Arabs, and as he launched out into the untravelled places of Africa, two words
rang in his ears, " Find Livingstone." Enduring many hardships, sometimes
fighting and soraetimes coaxing the natives, Stanley pressed on his way, his gen
eral course being in a northwesterly direction, signs, rumors, and perhaps instincts,
leading him to believe that Livingstone, if found alive, would be discovered
somewhere in the region of Lake Tanganyika. It would be impossible to de
scribe the vagueness and mysteriousness of the rumors which float to and fro in
an untravelled and savage country, but as the intrepid adventurer pressed on he
heard more and more credible reports of the lost white man. His first convinc
ing intimarion of his being near Livingstone was when a black met hira, and,
speaking to him in tolerably good EngUsh, told him that a white man was said to
be in a village near by. This man was one of Dn Livingstone's servants, and
soon the two, one from America and the other frora England, raet at Ujiji, on
the shores of the lake.
Stanley remained with Livingstone unril March 14th of the following year,
busied with explorations of the fascinating region into which he had penetrated.
He supplied Livingstone with aU of the goods that he could spare, and on his
return to Zanzibar he sent him a caravan with men, supplies, and such articles as
he needed, fulfiUing the orders of Mn Bennett. Stanley never again saw Living
stone in life.
Livingstone died of malarial fever contracted in the African marshes, and his
faithful blacks erabalraed his body and carried it to the coast, hundreds of miles,
bringing with them every article belonging to the faithful missionary, even to the
smallest scraps of paper on which were penned the last notes of his journey
which he ever wrote Livingstone vvas buried with grand ceremony in \Vest-
minster Abbey, and Stanley was one of those who bore him to his grave.
Stanley's eariy life was a romance He was born in Wales, near the litrie
town of Denbigh, and his parents were so poor that when he was about three
years of age he\vas sent to the poor-house of St Asaph to be brought up and
educated at the expense of the parish. At the age of thirteen he was his own
master and though young, he was ambitious, well informed, and well poised.
He taught school while yet a lad in the village of Mold, Flintshire, North \^'ales.

,398 ' WORKMEN AND HEROES
Tiring of this uncongenial occupation, he made his way to Liverpool when he
vvas about fourteen years of age, and shipped as cabin-boy on board a sailing ves
sel bound to New Orleans. Like other British-born youths, America was to him
the promised land, and thither he turned his steps in pursuit of fortune and fame.
In New Orleans he fell in with a kindly merchant, a Mn Stanley, who adopted
him and gave him his name, for the youngster's real narae was John Rowlands.
His protector dying without leaving a will, the boy was once more turned adrift,
but he managed to live and sustain hiraself, and when tvventy-one years of age, in
1 86 1, the great Civil War having broken out, Stanley went into the Confederate
service then recruiting at New Orleans. He was subsequently taken prisoner
by the Federal forces, and being aUowed his liberty, he volunteered in the United
States navy. He did his work well, and was in due tirae proraoted to be acting
ensign on the ironclad Ticonderoga. He made friends wherever he went, for he
was brave, raodest, and of a frank disposition. The war over he was discharged
frora the naval service, went to Asia Minor, where he saw raany strange coun
tries, wrote letters to the American newspapers, and in 1866 revisited his native
village in Wales. Returning to the United States, he entered the service of the
New York Herald, and went to Abyssinia as war correspondent, as before
stated. Stanley returned to Europe after his discovery of Livingstone, in July, 1872,
and published his narrative, but many people in Europe and in America refused
to believe his .story. Some persons who thought themselves expert in knowledge
of African travel proved to their entire satisfaction that he never had been far
from the coast, never had seen Livingstone, and that his wonderful tale was a
tissue of romance The Queen of England showed her belief and confidence in
him by sending him a box of gold set with jewels, and the Royal Geographical
Society of Great Britain, a very high and mighty body, showed him great honor.
The attention of geographers and scientific raen was novv turned to the great
Lake Tanganyika, about which very little was known. The outlet of the lake
was as yet undiscovered. The secret sources of the Nile were unknown, and the
great river that reaches the Congo coast from the interior was then, so far as men
knew, lost in the foam of the cataracts above. Even the already faraous lake
known as the Victoria Nyanza was indistinctly sketched on the raaps, and people
faraihar with African exploration vvere uncertain whether that great body of
water was a lake or a chain of lakes.
Stanley was asked by the editor of the London Daily Telegraph if he could
settle these great questions if he were commissioned to go to Africa. He re
plied, " While I live there will be soraething done. If I survive the tirae re
quired to perform all the work, all shall be done." Jaraes Gordon Bennett vvas
asked by cable if he would join in the new expedition. 1 1 is sententious reply
flashed under the ocean was : " Yes. Bennett." .And Stanley's second great work
was already deterrained upon.
Only six weeks were allowed for preparation, and when .it was noised abroad
that Stanley was taking another expedition into the heart of Africa, he was over-

HENRY M. STANLEY 399
whelmed with offers of volunteer assistants, and with a great variety of strange
contrivances to help him on his journey. Finally, all preparations being con
cluded, he left England August 15, 1874, accompanied by only three white men,
Frank and Edward Pocock and Frederick Barken These men, with the goods
and other needed articles for the expedition, were sent on ahead, and twenty
raonths after his last previous departure frora Zanzibar, Stanley was once more at
that point of departure, ready to begin his preparations for another plunge into
the heart of the Dark Continent.
Some of the black men who had been with him on his previous journey, when
he searched for Livingstone, vvere found at Zanzibar, and they were all eager to
go with him again, and when he was ready to depart he had in his company 224
persons, sorae of the black raen taking their wives with them. The company
after leaving Zanzibar landed at Bergamoyo, on the raainland, November 13,
1874, and five days later his column boldly advanced into the heart of the Dark
Continent. The general direction of the expedition was at first nearly westerly,
then turning to the north it was aimed for Victoria Nyanza. The march was
obstructed by raarshy regions, overflowing with recent rains. Moist exhalations
and poisonous vapors prevailed, and the first raonth was a glooray one. Stan
ley's own weight in thirty-eight days fell from 180 pounds to 130 pounds, and
the three young Englishmen with him were greatly reduced in strength and
flesh. One of these, Edward Pocock, was prostrated, and though he was carried
back to the high, dry table land nearer the coast, he died and was buried in that
lonely region.
By January 21, 1875, 20 of the black men of the expedition had died, many
were sick and disabled, and 89, discouraged by their misfortunes, deserted.
They were now in a hostile region, and were attacked by natives day after day
in succession, but after much hard fighting they got away and labored onward
toward the Victoria Nyanza, vvhich they reached on January 27th, near its south
ern shore. This event was celebrated with great joy and cheerfulness ; they felt
that they were out of the wilderness. Six weeks were now consumed in a voy
age around Victoria Nyanza.
During the absence of the exploring party, Frederick Barker, who had been
left in the camp on the lake, died of fever, leaving Pocock and Stanley the only
white men in the party. It was here that Stanley met King Mtesa, the King of
Uganda, a benevolent and mild-mannered Pagan, who had previously been con
verted to Mohammedanism, and now accepted the Christian religion with equal
cheerfulness and good-nature
On his way westward Stanley passed through the regions of King Rumanika,
an eccentric character, at whose court the white man heard many strange stories
of unknown regions in the heart of the continent P^rom this point Stanley went
southwardly to explore that part of Lake Tanganyika vvhich lies south, and this
he found to be three hundred and twenty railes long, averaging a width of
twenty-eight miles. It has no known outlet, and a sounding line of two hundred
and eighty feet found no bottom.

400 WORKMEN AND HEROES
His next march from Tanganyika to the River Lualaba was toilsome and
perUous and beset vvith dangers almost incredible. At Nyangwe Stanley touched
the raost distant point in Central Africa ever reached before by white man. Here
he met with Tippoo Tib, the famous Arab traden This man, who has always
seemed to be master of the destinies and fortunes of the wild, roving tribes in the
interior, agreed to accompany Stanley on his exploration of the Lualaba or Great
Riven If it had not been for this agreement with Tippoo Tib, it is raost likely
that Stanley's expedition would have ended then and there, and vve nev^er should
have known, as we now know, that the Congo and the Lualaba are one river, the
second largest in the world. Its line extends frora its raouth on the west coast
of Africa more than half-way across the continent, and it has its rise in the great
lakes of the interior. To this vast stream Stanley has given the name of Living
stone. The object of Stanley's journey now was to throw light on the western half
of the continent, which was then represented on the raaps by a blank, through
which meandered a few vague and uncertain lines representing rivers, guessed at
but not known. Stanley got on better with the natives than did any of those who
had gone before him, for he was wise, patient, and gentle, and yet so firm and de
cided that he was held in great awe and respect by the black men wherever he
was known. Leaving the river and deflecting to the westward, he struggled on
through a forest matted and interlaced with vines, swarming with creeping things,
damp and reeking with vapors, and dripping with moisture. It was a most intol
erable and horrid stage of the journey. When again he struck the great river he
resolved to go by land no further. Here he was abandoned by Tippoo Tib, who
refused to go on. Stanley resolutely set himself to work building and buying
canoes, and led by his own English-built boat, the Lady Alice, his expedition
started finally down the river, which here flows due north. The fleet vvas twenty-
three in number, and was loaded with stores, goods, and supplies.
It was a wonderful voyage. The explorers were harassed at times by savage
tribes, some of them believed to be cannibals, who attacked the strangers from
shore, or in pure wantonness, as they drifted down the stream. Sickness and hun
ger were often their lot, and they were overtaken by tropical storms. In some
places, too, they encountered rapids and cataracts, around which their fleet had
to be dragged through paths cut in the priraeval forest while the savages hovered
around thera. The forests were populous with wild beasts ; chimpanzees and go
rillas, monkeys, and all raanner of four-footed things infested the clambering vines
that festooned the trees. They vvere once attacked by an hippopotamus, and ele
phants and rhinoceroses were never far away. At a point below where the great
river turns from its great northerly course and flows westward, just above the
equator, was discovered a series of cataracts, seven in all, the first of which was
named Livingstone Falls and the seventh Stanley Falls. The natives from this
point downward to the mouth of the Congo had lost something of their natural
ferocity, as they had been tamed by trade from the west coast, and great was the
rejoicing of Stanley's Zanzibar raen when they encountered native warriors with

OVEREND FECIT.

STANLEY SHOOTING THE RAPIDS OF THE CONGO.

HENRY M. STANLEY 401
fire-arms in their hands, for this showed that they had reached a people supplied
by traders from the Congo coast.
The passing of the last group of cataracts was attended by numerous dangers.
In spite of all their efforts, canoes were sometimes carried over the falls and
wrecked, and on June 3d, Frank Pocock, the last of Stanley's white companions,
was drowned in the Congo by the upsetting of a boat. Pocock vvas a brave,
faithful, and devoted follower of Stanley, who has paid a touching tribute to the
manliness, affection, and courage of the young Englishraan who Ues buried in the
savage wilderness of the Congo.
Very soon, as they drew nearer to the west coast, in the latter part of the
summer of 1877, sickness, distress, and famine pressed hard upon the way-worn
travellers. They were destitute of nearly everything that could sustain nature.
The natives refused to sell supplies, and starvation stared thera in the face.
Knowing that a trading-post vvas established at Emboraraa, a two days' journey
down the river, Stanley wrote on an old piece of cotton cloth a letter asking for
help, which was sent to the trading-post by his swiftest runners. This letter was
written in Spanish, French, and also in English, Stanley in his anxiety and de
spair leaving no means untried to reach the unknown traders whora he heard
were at Emboraraa. The raen into whose hands this three-fold raessage fell were
English and Portuguese. Their response was prompt and generous. The mes
sengers were sent back, followed by a sraall caravan laden with araple supplies of
food and the necessaries of life, greatly to the relief of the starving people who,
on the arrival of this tiraely aid, had eaten nothing for thirty hours. On August
g, 1877, the nine hundred and ninety-ninth day from the date of their departure
from Zanzibar, Stanley's company, now numbering one hundred and fourteen
blacks and one white raan, raet the generous traders and merchants of Embora
raa, who received the way-worn voyagers that had crossed the Dark Continent
From the mouth of the Congo the expedition was carried by steamer to Kabin-
da, a sea-port a short distance up the coast, whence they were taken to the port
of San Paolo de Loanda, where they embarked on board a British man-of-war
and were taken to Cape Town ; thence, touchin,g at Port Natal, they steamed to
Zanzibar, vvhere they arrived on November 20, 1877. Long since given up for
dead, the Zanzibar men were greeted by their kindred with signs of thanksgiving,
tears and cries of joy. They had crossed the heart of the continent, doubled the
great Cape, and vvere again at home.
Stanley returned to England from Zanzibar, arriving in December, 1877.
The King of the Belgians had been planning an expedition to open up the Congo
country to trade, and now requested Stanley to take comraand of his expedition.
Stanley undertook the raana,geraent of the new organization and returned to
Africa in 1879, where he remained nearly six years, hard at work on the Congo,
making roads, establishing stations, and opening the way for comraerce. The
Congo Free State, founded by King Leopold, lies chiefly south of the great
bend of the river, and contains an area of 1,508,000 square miles, with a popula
tion of more than 42,000,000. The articles collected frora the African trade at
26

402 WORKMEN AND HEROES
poirits along the great river, are ivory, palm-oil, gura, copal, rubber, bees-wax,
cabinet woods, hippopotamus teeth and hides, monkey skins, and divers other
things. Stanley now made brief visits to Europe and the United States. While
he was in this country, in the winter of 1886 and 1887, he vvas summoned back
to Europe to take once raore coramand of an African expedition to rescue Emin
Pasha, governor of the province of Equatorial Africa. Emin is the Egyptian
narae of Dr. Schnitzlen He has been generally known throughout Africa as
Erain Pasha, and was governor of the province which is one of the outlying posts
of the Egyptian government, when the revolt in the Soudan took place. When
General Gordon was besieged in Khartoum, the province of Erain Pasha was cut
off from the rest of Egypt, and Emin was shut up in the region north of the Al
bert Nyanza, whose capital is Lado, on one of the minor branches of the
White Nile.
To relieve him in his isolation and necessity, a subscription was started in
England, and once raore, equipped with men, arms, ammunition, and other sup
plies, Stanley sailed for Africa in January, 1887, making his headquarters as be
fore at Zanziban The supplies for the expedition were shipped directly to the
Congo and carried up stream by steamers. At Zanzibar, Stanley's old friend
Tippoo Tib was met, and he signed an agreement raaking hira Governor of Stan
ley Falls to defend that post against all coraers, a salary being guaranteed hira.
Then, accorapanied by Tippoo Tib, Stanley went to the raouth of the Congo by
the way of the Cape of Good Hope, reaching the river March 18, 1887 ; then,
ascending the stream on which he had met so many hardships and endured so
much suffering, he carried his force of nearly one thousand raen, and his supplies,
arms, and ammunition, to the relief of Emin Pasha, an enorraous quantity alto
gether. The white corapanions of Stanley on this expedition were Major Bart-
telot, who had served with distinction under General Wolseley in Egypt, Major
Sir Andrew Clarke, Lieutenant Stairs, Captain Nelson, Dr. Park, Rose Troup,
Mountjoy Jephson, William Bonny, and Mn Jameson. Of these, two returned
to England before the terraination of the journey, and three perished during the
wanderings of the expedition through forty-five hundred railes of trackless wil
derness, pestilential marshes, and regions populous with hostile savages. From
June, 1887, to December, 1889, the party was lost to the world and no definite
news from it reached civilization.
The expedition, which had been divided into two parts, generally pursued its
way in a northeastward course. Major Barttelot was left on the Aruwimi, at
Yambuya, with 257 men and the main part of the stores, to await the coraing of
the proraised reinforceraents from Tippoo Tib. A long delay ensued, and troub
les broke out in consequence (it is said) of the rash and imperious demeanor of
Major Barttelot, and finally Barttelot was murdered and the entire rear-guard
vvas broken down by desertion and pillage. Jameson collected the remains of
the party, but he soon after died, and Mn Bonny succeeded to the coramand and
collected and kept the men together. Meanwhile, Stanley's march ahead was
made vvith many difficulties, and he encountered rapid streams and other obsta-

HENRY M. STANLEY 403
cles unforeseen and unexpected. Toward the end of December, 1887, Stanley's
expedition having reached the Albert Edward Nyanza, and still being unable to
open comraunications with Erain Pasha, it vv^as decided to return to the forest
and build a fort, and, after resting the forces, make a new start toward the lake.
This fortification, known as Fort Bodo, was inhabited untU April, 1888, when
Stanley pressed on, and finally found Emin Pasha and his companion, Dn
Casati. They had passed through the country of the dwarfs, nearly perishing
with hunger, and when they reached the lake, Emin's soldiers had mutinied
and he was a prisonen Emissaries from the Mahdist Dervishes had stirred up
the carap of Erain and caused inextricable confusion. Emin vvas reluctant to
leave the province, and when Stanley and his white companions determined to
attempt to reach Zanzibar by an unexplored route, Emin refused to depart
Four months were spent in an effort to ov^ercorae the reluctance of Erain Pasha
and Captain Casati, who were unwilling to leav^e their people.
Emin's plea was that ten thousand of his people would have to be extricated
from the province and carried to the coast After many and exasperating discus
sions, Stanley refused to wait longer, and Erain, who had becorae nearly blind,
brought away with hira about five hundred persons. The expedition then, over
a southeasterly route, raade its way toward the coast.
The course of march from Albert Edward Nyanza was nearly in a direct line
to the Uzinja country, on the southwest shore of the Victoria Nyanza. The
party passed south of Victoria Lake and reached the east coast December 4,
1889. The caravan, since it left Albert Edward Nyanza, had dwindled from fif
teen hundred to one-half that number. This latest journey of Stanley lasted one
thousand and twelve days, of which hardly twenty were without tragical and
perilous incidents. The story of the annihilation that overcame his rear-guard
has been often told. It will probably never be settled exactly where shall be
placed the blame for that frightful disaster.
On his return from the Emin relief expedition, Stanley revisited the United
States, accompanied by his bride whora he had lately married. He gave lectures
in several of the larger cities of the country on his surprising adventures in
Africa. He was now prematurely aged by his terrible experiences, and though
his eye was still bright and his frame alert, care and privation had whitened his
hair, exposure had darkened his skin and left its wrinkled irapress on his fore
head. Everywhere he was received with the greatest enthusiasm and followed by
eager thousands, who gazed upon his face and hung with rapture on his words.
In 1892 he returned to England, and availing himself of his British nationality,
stood for Parliaraent in the District of Larabeth, City of London, as a Conser-
varive candidate. Much to the surprise and grief of his friends he was defeated
and since then he has remained in private life.

404

WORKMEN AND HEROES

THOMAS ALVA EDISON*

By Clarence Cook

(born 1847)

As someone has called Leonardo da Vinci " the great
Italian -Yankee," because of his raultifarious and in
genious suggestions in the vvorld of material things, so our
own Edison raay be called "the Yankee Leonardo," for,
with a curiosity ranging over the whole world of nature,
equal to that of the Itahan, and vvith a fecundity of inven
tion no less bewildering, he unites, like Leonardo, an im
aginative and poetical vein that lifts his devices into the
domain of Art.
Yet Edison is in no respect a graceful or romantic fig
ure such as Leonardo was. He reminds us rather, by the
weird and cosmic nature of his speculations and inventions,
of sorae one of the beings created by the Norse raythologists : a nineteenth cen
tury gnome, rough, shaggy, uncouth, wholly absorbed in his search among the
secrets of nature, and, while working always for the good of mankind, dwell
ing in a world apart, and with neither time nor inclination to mix in human
affairs. Thoraas Alva Edison was born at Milan, Erie County, O., February 11,
1847. He started in life harapered by poverty, by want of teaching and train
ing, without friends outside his own home circle to encourage him in pushing his
fortunes, and with small opportunity, in the little village where his lot had been
cast, for bettering his condition. On his father's side he came»of sturdy Dutch
stock : the old raan, who was still living in 1879 ^t the age of seventy-four, reck
oned among his immediate ancestors one who lived to be one hundred and two
years old, and another who reached one hundred and three. He would appear
to have been, like pioneers in general, ready, if not obliged, to turn his hand to
any employment that might yield a living, that must be scanty at the best ; and
we read of him as in turn a tailor, a nurseryman, a dealer, first in grain and then
in lumber, and an agent for the sale of farm-lands. He seeras to have been un
able to do rauch for his boy beyond teaching hira to read and write, stimulating
his taste for reading by paying him sraall suras of raoney for every book he read
through ; he had no need to insist that the reading should be done thoroughly,
for it was the boy's way to do thoroughly everything he undertook. His mother,
also, helped Thomas in learning : she was of Scotch extraction ; but, though her
parents were from the old country, she herself was born in Massachusetts; where
for a time she had been a school-teacher. This, then, with the exception of two
months at the village school, was the limit of young Edison's education — to use
* Copyri^^ht, 1894, by Selmar Hess.

THOMAS ALVA EDISON 405
the conventional term. The world was now to take him in hand, and show what
it could do with raaterial so unproraising.
Before he was twelve years old, the boy had found a place as newsboy on the
Grand Trunk Line running to Detroit In the intervals between his raids upon
the helpless passengers with his newspapers, periodicals, novels, and candies, he
kept up the habit of reading, and by practice acquired a reraarkably clear and
finished handwriting. His next step vvas to secure the sole right of selling news
papers on the train, and he soon had four boys under him to assist him in the
work. Having then bought a lot of old type from some printing-office, he
rigged up a rude frame in one of the baggage-cars that served as a lumber-room,
and then proceeded to set up and print a newspaper which he called the Grand
Trunk Herald, and sold with the other newspapers. As he had no press, he vvas
obliged to take off the impressions by rubbing the paper on the inked type with
his hands. In sorae way, a copy of this newspaper found its way to the London
Times, and the editor spoke of it as the only newspaper in the world printed on
a moving train. During the fighting at Pittsburgh Landing in 1862, Edison
printed off abstracts of the telegraphic news, and posted thera up at the sraall
country stations, thus rendering a great service to the people anxiously waiting
for news from the field. The terminus of his train was Detroit, and here, for
the first time, he had access to a library. In his enthusiasra at finding himself
in virtual possession of such a treasure, he determined, then and there, to read
the whole Ubrary through, as it stood, using his tirae between trains. Beginning
at one shelf he read fifteen feet in a line, going through each book .solidly from
cover to coven In this first bout, among other books, he read Newton's " Prin
cipia," Ure's "Scientific Dictionary," and Burton's "Anatoray of Melancholy."
All this tirae, by hints and suggestions. Nature had been pushing the youth
toward the field he was finally to occupy alraost by right of erainent domain.
As yet, telegraphy was in its infancy, and the powers of electricity only begin
ning to be knov\»n. Edison had frora the first been interested in the workings of
the telegraph line along the railroad, and had made some experiments vvith a
rude line of his own, connecting his father's home at Port Huron — a village to
which the family had sorae tirae before removed from Milan — vvith the house of
a neighbon To do this, he had to make a battery out of odds and ends, old
bottles, stove-pipe wire, and nails made out of zinc contributed by his youthful
friends, who in their zeal cut pieces out of the zinc mats under their mothers'
stoves. He had no one to teach hira telegraphy, but an accident — if accidents
there be — was unexpectedly to put him in the way of learning its secrets. The
child of the station-master was in danger frora a raoving train ; young Edison
snatched it up and saved its life at the risk of his own, and the grateful father
rewarded hira by teaching him what he knew of telegraphy.
Armed with this rudimentary knowledge, and vvith vvhat, in addition, he
had learned by practice, Edison passed the next few years of his life in moving
about over the country, seeking eraployraent less, it vvould appear, for the sake
of employment than for the opportunity of increasing his practical knowledge of

406 WORKMEN AND HEROES
the art that was to swallow up, in his mind, all the other arts. But he seems
to have succeeded almost in spite of himself. He was so eager in his chase
after knowledge that he was continually tripping himself up. While still at his
trade of newsboy on the Grand Trunk Railroad, he had come across, at Detroit
probably, a copy of Fresenius' " Qualitative Analysis " and had become so much in
terested in chemistry, that alongside his printing-press he had fitted up a small
laboratory with a chance-medley apparatus for experiments, and one day a bottle
of phosphorus was upset, and the car taking fire was only saved by the energy
of the conductor, who proraptly pitched the whole apparatus, with the printing-
press to boot, out at the door, and then gave the young Fresenius-Franklin a
thrashing. Later we hear of hira, in the course of his wanderings, set to watch a
telegraph-machine in the absence of the operator, and to prove that he was on
guard he was to send the word six over the line every half-hour. Not to be
interrupted in the book he was reading, he contrived a device that did the
work automatically. In another office he kept back messages while he was
contriving a way to send them raore quickly ! Disappearing from this office,
he appears again in another, this tirae in Memphis, Tenn. But his interest in
solving the problem of duplicate transmission proved so absorbing that he con
tinually neglected his duties, and on the occasion of a change of officers he was
dismissed as a useless member of the staff. At Louisville he upsets a carboy of
sulphuric acid vvhich ruins the handsome furniture of a brokers office on the
floor below, and again finds hiraself adrift in an unappreciative world. Yet he
had proved hiraself, in spite of all drawbacks, an adept of uncoraraon skill in
telegraphy ; and so widespread in scientific circles was his reputation, that he
was sent for to Boston to take charge of the raain New York wire. The im
pression made by the records of his life at this tirae is, that he looked upon all
these eraployments merely as so many opportunities for earning his bread while
pursuing his beloved experiments, and that the bread-earning was the least im
portant part of the affain No doubt, he always meant to do bis duty, but the
ecstasy of invention and the thirst for discovery carried him out of himself and
made him often oblivious of sublunary things. While in Boston he still kept up
his experiraents and perfected his duplex telegraph, but it was not brought into
successful operation until 1872.
In 1 871 he carae to New York, and having attracted the attention of the
Stock Exchange by sorae ingenious suggestions put forth while busied in repair
ing the machine that recorded quotations, he was made Superintendent of the
Gold and Stock Company, and brought out his invention of the printing-tele
graph, by which the fluctuations of the stock-market in any part of the country
are instantly recorded on narrow strips of paper.
The iraraediate success of this invention, and the great demand for the raa
chines, led him to establish a workshop for their manufacture in Newark, N, J.
But soon the need of stUl more space, and the desire for freedom from inter
ruption while at his work, obliged him to give up Newark, and he found
new quarters at Menlo Park, N. J. — a bare plot of barren acres destitute of

Copyright by ^^ Frank Leslie' s Weekly."^
THOMAS A. EDISON THE WIZARD OF MENLO PARK.

THOMAS ALVA EDISON 407
natural attraction of any kind, unless it be — what to Edison indeed is a great
charm — an uninterrupted view of the sky ; a place virtually unknown before he
planted there the rude buildings that house his wonderful inventions ; yet now a
place knowil to scientific raen all over the world ; the Mecca of raany a mind
seeking to wrest from Nature her dearest secrets. «
No doubt, many of the inventions that have made Edison famous must be
ascribed in their conception and ripening to various periods of his life, but to the
popular mind they are all associated with the wizard's present home, from whence
for several years the bulletins of inventions — playful, useful, necessary, revolution
ary — -often as simple in their mechanisra as they are astonishing in their results,
have been given to a delighted world. Sorae of Edison's inventions have a char
acter at present of little more than picturesque playfulness, such as the Phono
graph, perhaps the most reraarkable of these minor inventions ; the Aerophone,
by which sounds are amplified without loss of distinctness ; the Megaphone, an
instrument which, inserted in the ear, so magnifies sounds that faint whispers raay
be heard a thousand feet ; the Phonoraeter, for measuring the force of the sound
waves caused by the human voice ; the Microtasimeter, for raeasuring sraall varia
tions in temperature. This has been tested for so small a variation as ^^^^p of
a degree Fahrenheit, and in 1878 was used to detect the presence of heat in the
sun's corona. The raost familiar of these lesser inventions is the Phonograph, by
which sounds are made self-recording and capable of being repeated. While this
curious invention — almost childish in its simplicity — is as yet little more than a
plaything, and has proved of sraall utility, it makes, nevertheless, a strong appeal
to the imagination when we reflect that by its aid the voice of any huraan being
may be transmitted to ages far in the future, and its living tones be heard long
after he who uttered them has returned to the dust.
But, while these inventions have the charm that invests "the fairy-tales of sci
ence," the world-wide farae of Edison rests upon greater gifts to the world ; the
various improvements he has made in the telegraph, and the perfection to which
he has brought the electric light The invention of the telephone, by vvhich per
sons are enabled to converse with one another at very long distances, and by
which concerts, operas, and orations or sermons in one city can be heard by an
audience assembled in another, is one of the raost reraarkable of Edison's achiev^e-
raents, and one the usefulness of vvhich in various directions it is easy to foresee.
The idea of the transmission of messages in opposite directions by the same wire
was one that had early occurred to Edison, but he was long in reducing it to prac
tice. The secret once discovered, however, he rapidly progressed until he had
brought out the sextuple telegraph, where we believe the ability of the instru
ment rests at present
The inventor next turned his mind to the study of the electric lamp, in vvhich
he saw great possibilities. He believed that he could produce a light that should
be cheaper than gas, and also purer, raore steady, and more to be depended on.
He rejected the principle of the Voltaic arc inv^olved in the Brush patent then in
use, by which the electric current vvas passed through a strip of platinum or other

408 WORKMEN AND HEROES

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metal that requires a high temperature to melt, because in practice it was found
that in fact, owing to the difficulty of regulating the flow of the electric current,
the medium did often melt. He therefore sought for a medium that should be
practically indestructible, and believed that it would be found in pure carbon en
closed in a vacuum. After many trials with one and another substance, he at
length found that by employing slender .strips of card-board reduced by intense
heat to carbon, connecting them with the wires leading from the raachine, and
enclosing them in glass bulbs from which the air had been extracted, the desired
result could be produced. The next step to accoraplish was the division of the
light, so that any nuraber of laraps could be supplied by the sarae pair of wires — a
condition absolutely necessary if the invention were to be of practical utility as
applied to the lighting of factories, public buildings, or private households, where-
ever, in short, raany lights are needed. This was finally accomplished, and in De
cember, 1879, an exhibition was given at Menlo Park of a complete system of
lighting. This first demonstration of the possibility of light-division created a great
interest in scientific circles all over the world, especially as scientific experts had
testified before the British House of Comraons thatthe feat vvas irapossible. The
Edison incandescent burner is now in use in every eit)^ town, and haralet in this
country, and it would seem as if it must of necessity before long drive the costly,
unhealthy, and dangerous coal-gas out of use for illuminating purposes, although
we believe a wide field of usefulness lies before the coal-gas as a substitute for
coal in our kitchens.
V Thomas Edison has received few public honors from his countrymen ; but the
nature of his work has been such as to make his name a household word through
out his native country ; and not only by the admiration excited by his genius —
for it deserves no less a name — but by the practical, every-day benefits he has
conferred, he has earned a place in the good-will and esteem of his fellows such
as seldom falls to the lot of man.

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