" "^ ' ' -to ^_.___ __^_..-_ "*"* • r......^____rji_-£_ „____ _-.-^---ii^ **-«>. •• y -SI 'v. - • '$&■** i.';~ $$$$£*. f£pl „«.,-- !*~ 4^... ».r**^---"*'••-« wc-,0^^»«.-«-■— ^5«sS S3.* **?&. . .I*-^ 4 ♦ £*■■* l«fA^. 1 i < 4; i 9 vTikl i » « '*£ F**- K 4 » <»' iCW tt?1^! M ~ *$MBSmhm rr Surgeon General's. Office —^ Lmii&Rm *'*5-i 'r.-1*"?' '05*!*$'.** <"* / A t^/yc^ r^^ ^ r V. / FA^'HUil^t, *l%Yy< ^azDOUi^ 0 BY E.A.BMVCK'JRCIK. Wt&lLx ,J©rfeiF"^©3S"9 fflETT & ©©SfllPASTflT. 2'i PIEMAN STKEIT. NATIONAL POETEAIT GALLERY Of dmitmtt %mtxmu: INCLUDING ORATORS, STATESMEN, NAVAL AND MILITARY HEROES, JURISTS, AUTHORS, ETC., ETC., |rom (Drijutal full %n§ty fahtutp 6j ALONZO CHAPPEL. WITH BIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL NARRATIVES, BY EVERT A. DUYCKINCK, EDITOR OF " OYCI.OP.SDIA O? AMERICAN LITERATURE," VIC, IN TWO VOLUMES.—VOL. II. -.. ^ NEW YORK: JOHNSON, FRY & COMPANY, 27 BEEKMAN STREET. Entered, according to Act of Congress,, by JOHNSON, Frtf & CO., In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. li CONTENTS. VOLUME TWO. BIOGRAPHIES. PAGE LVIII.^IOHN QUINCY ADAMS,................................................................. 6 LEX.—DAVID PORTER,......................................................................... 16 LX.-JOHN JACOB ASTOR,.................................................................... 30 LXI.-JAMES KENT............................................................................. 39 LXH__JOHN JAMES AUDUBON,................................................................ 47 LXHI.—DEWITT CLINTON........................................................................ 55 LXTV.—OLIVER HAZARD PERRY,............................................................... 63 LXV.—JAMES LAWRENCE,...................................................................... 74 LXVL—THOMAS MACDONOUGH................................................................. 82 LXVn.—JOHN RANDOLPH,....................................................................... 88 LXVIH.—WASHINGTON IRVING,.................................................................. 99 LXIX.-ABBOTT LAWRENCE..................................................................... 110 LXX.—ANDREW JACKSON,..................................................................... 116 LXXL—HENRY CLAY,............................................................................ 144 LXXH__JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN,..............................................*............ 162 LXXm.—DANEGL WEBSTER........................................................................ 173 LXXIV.—THOMAS HART BENTON,................................................................ 190 LXXV__JAMES FENIMORE COOPER,........................................................... 199 LXXVL—WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON............................................................ 211 LXXVIL—WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT,....................................................... 221 LXXVni.—ZACHARY TAYLOR,...................................................................... 231 LXXIX.—JAMES KNOX POLK..................................................................... 247 LXXX.—RUFUS CHOATE,......................................................................... 253 LXXXI.-JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN,............................................................. 264 LXXXIL—STEPHEN ARNOLD DOUGLAS,.......................................................... 273 LXXXIH.—JOHN J. CRITTENDEN,................................................................. 277 LXXXrV—WILLIAM HENRY SEWARD,............................................................. 280 LXXXV—ELISHA KENT KANE,.................................................................. 284 LXXXVL—CHARLES WILKES,....................................................................... 298 LXXXVn.—WILLIAM JENKLNS WORTH,............................................................. 301 LXXXVIIL—EDWIN VOSE SUMNER,................................................................. 308 LXXXIX.—MARTIN VAN BUREN,............................................................... 310 IV CONTEXTS. PAOI XC—SALMON PORTLAND CHASE,.......................................................... 320 XCI__JOHN TYLER..................................................................:........ 322 XCn.—JOHN CHARLES FREMONT,............................................................. 329 XCIII.—FRANKLIN PP3RCE...................................................................... 333 XCTV— ANDREW HULL FOOTE,. 340 XCV__JAMES BUCHANAN,...................................................................... 343 XCVL—MDLLARD FILLMORE,................................................................... 347 XCVIL—NATHANEGL LYON,..................................................................... 351 XCVIH.—LEWIS CASS,............................................................................. S55 ............................ 362 " miiv"iii"|............................... C__JOHN E. WOOL,....................................................................... CL—ABRAHAM LDJCOLN,..........................................................•........ 373 Cn.—WINFH3LD SCOTT,....................................................................... 376 CHI.—GEORGE BANCROFT,..................................................................... 396 CD7.—EDWARD EVERETT,..................................................................... 40° CV—GEORGE BRINTON McCLELLAN......................................................... 408 CVI.—HENRY WAGER HALLECK............................................................... 412 CVIL—AMBROSE EVERETT BURNSEOE,......................................................... 416 419 CVHI.-JOSEPH HOOKER,........................................................................ CLX—BENJAMIN F. BUTLER,....................•............................................ 423 428 CX.—JAMES SHIELDS,.......................................................................... CXI—THOMAS FRANCIS DUPONT,........................................................... 432 CXIL—DAVTE GLASCOE FARRA.GUT,........................................................... 436 440 CXin.-DAVID D. PORTER,...................................................................... CXIV.—HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW,.................................................. 444 CXV.-WILLIAM STARKE ROSECRANS,........................................................ CXVL—ULYSSES S. GRANT,..................................................................... 456 459 CXVIL—NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS,......................................................... ........... 462 CXVHL—ANDREW JOHNSON,..................................................... 464 CXIX.—WILLIAM CULLEN RRYANT,....................................•....................... J. 2 . JicLcu)nn& Fh..7>; tJir- ■> \; /'V iTh/ippel. w. the p,>s. '.uMisKv s JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. We have already traced the lineage of John Quincy Adams. He comes nobly heralded upon the scene of our Revolutionary annals. His stirring re- lative, the zealous and always consist- ent Samuel Adams, the very front and seed-plot of obstinate rebellion, had taught the mechanics of Boston to resist, and his eloquence had reached the ears of men of influence throughout the colony and nation. His father, John Adams, thirty-two years old at the time of his birth, deeply grounded in the history of constitutional liberty and with the generous flame of freedom burning brightly in his bosom from boyhood, was already prepared for that warm, enlightened, steady career of patriotism—never swerving, always true to his land—which bore him aloft, the chosen representative of New Eng- land to the Congress of his country, and ultimately to her highest authority; while the nation in turn adopted him her express image in the important ne- gotiations at three of the great courts of Europe. Nor should we forget the tender, heroic mother, the child of sensibility and genius, hardened into the maturity and perfection of the female character by the fire of the Revolution, the gen- tle Abigail, in whose fair friendship n.—1 and sympathies and feminine graceful- ness posterity has an ever-living parti- cipation through the delightful pages of her " Correspondence." Of that family, in a house adjoining the old paternal Braintree home, in the present town of Quincy, at this immi- nent moment of the Revolution, John Quincy Adams, the eldest son, was born July 11, 1767. He derived his baptismal name from his great-grand- father, John Quincy, the time-honored representative of Quincy in the Colo- nial Legislature. The name was given by his grandmother, as her husband was dying. The incident was not for- gotten by the man. He recurred to it with emotion, fortified by a sense of duty. In a sentence cited by his recent biographer, the venerable Josiah Quin- cy, he says: " This fact, recorded by my father at the time, is not without a moral to my heart, and has connected with that portion of my name a charm of mingled sensibility and devotion. It was filial tenderness that gave the name—it was the name of one passing from earth to immortality. These have been through life, perpetual admoni- tions to do nothing unworthy of it." It is interesting to trace the progress of the child in his mother's correspond- ence, from the infant lullaby which she 6 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. prattles to her husband, when " our daughter rocks him to sleep with the song, ' Come, papa, come home to 'bro- ther Johnny.' The boy has just en- tered his eighth year, and his father is on his way to the Continental Congress at Philadelphia, when she writes: "I have taken a very great fondness for reading Rollin's 'Ancient History,' since you left me. I am determined to go through with it if possible, in these my days of solitude. I find great plea- sure and entertainment from it, and I have persuaded Johnny to read me a page or two every day, and hope he will, from his desire to oblige me, en- tertain a fondness for it." The child had some instruction at the village school, but he was especially taught by his father's law students, in the house. As the pressure of war increases, this resource is broken up. The anxious mother writes, " I feel somewhat lonely. Mr. Thaxter is gone home. Mr. Rice is going into the army as captain of a oompany. We have no school. I know not what to do with John." In the summer of this year, 1775, " stand- ing," we are told, "with her on the summit of Penn's Hill, he heard the cannon booming from the battle of Bunker's Hill, and saw the flames and smoke of burning Charlestown. Dur- ing the siege of Boston he often, climbed the same eminence alone, to watch the shells and rockets thrown by the Ame- rican army." 1 A letter from the boy himself, two years later, then at the age of ten, exhibits his youthful precocity. " I love," he writes to his father, " to receive letters very well—much better than I love to write them. I make but a poor figure at composition ; my head is much too fickle. My thoughts are running after birds' eggs, play and tri fl.es, till I get vexed with myself. Mam- ma has a troublesome task to keep me steady, and I own I am ashamed of myself. I have but just entered the third volume of Smollett, though I had designed to have got half through it by this time. I have determined this week to be more diligent, as Mr. Thax- ter will be absent at court, and I can- not pursue my other studies. I have set myself a stint, and determined to read the third volume half out." He asks for directions to proportion his time between play and writing, and in a postscript says, " Sir, if you will be so good as to favor me with a blank book, I will transcribe the most remark- able occurrences I meet with in my reading, which will serve to fix them upon my mind." * In this letter we may read the aged man backward, from his steadfast, methodical desk in the House of Representatives, to the little boy at his mother's side in Braintree. The "childhood shows the man as morn- ing shows the day." He was an old- fashioned, studious youth, nurtured amidst grave scenes of duty, early in harness, a resolute worker from his cra- dle to his grave. The next ^ear the boy is taken with his father, on board the frigate Boston, on his first mission to France ; followed, in her first letter after the separation, 1 Quincy's Memoir, p. 8. 1 This letter appears from the manuscript in Mr. Ed- ward Everett's eloquent Faneuil Hall eulogy on Adams. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 7 by this noble injunction of the mother: " Enjoin it upon him never to disgrace his mother, and to behave worthily of his father." The boy is a little man on the voyage, securing the favor of the French gentlemen on board, who teach him their language. In a .perilous storm which arose, his father records his inexpressible satisfaction at his be- havior, " bearing it with a manly pa- tience, very attentive to me, and his thoughts constantly running, in a serious strain." When they arrive in France, and take up their lodgings with Ben- jamin Franklin at Passy, he is put to school with the sage's grandson, Benja- min Franklin Bache, in the neighbor- hood. At the close of this short sojourn abroad, his father sums up his advan- tages : " My son has had a great oppor- tunity to see this country; but this has unavoidably retarded his education in some other things. He has enjoyed perfect health from first to last, and is respected wherever he goes for his vigor and vivacity, both of mind and body, for his constant good humor and for his rapid progress in French as well as his general knowledge, which, for his age, is uncommon." 1 On the return voyage, in the Sensible, the Chevalier de la Luzerne, the minister to the Unit- ed States, and his secretary, M. Marbois, " are in raptures with my son. They get him to teach them the language. I found, this morning, the ambassador seated on the cushion in our state-room, M. Marbois in his cot, at his left hand, and my son stretched out in his, at his right; the ambassador reading out 1 Lei *rs of John Adams to his wife, IT. 54. loud in Blackstone's Discourse at his en- trance on his professorship of the com- mon law at the University, and my son correcting the pronunciation of every word and syllable and letter." * In November, father and son are at sea again in the Sensible, on their re- turn to France. This time they are landed in Gallicia, and pursue their way through the northern provinces of Spain to the French frontier. When the boy's Diary shall be published, that gigantic work which we are told he commenced on this second voyage, and continued, with few interruptions, through life, the world will doubtless get some picturesque notices of these foreign scenes, so happily sketched in his father's note-book. The boy was again at school in France, and on his father's mission to Amsterdam, in the summer, was placed with an instructor under the wing of the venerable uni- versity of Ley den, where m January, 1781, with Franklin's correspondent, Benjamin Waterhouse, then a student of medicine, he went before the Rector Magnificus and was duly matriculated. His father's object in taking him to Leyden was to escape "the mean-spirit- ed wretches," as he describes them, the teachers of the public schools at Am- sterdam. The youth, however, was not long at the University. His father's secretary, Francis Dana, having received the ap- pointment of minister to St. Petersburg, in July, took the boy of fourteen with him as Ms secretary. "In this capa- city," says Mr. Everett, " he was recog- 1 John Adams' Sea Diary, June 19, 17*79. Works. III. 214. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS nized by Congress; and there is, per- haps, no other case of a person so young being employed in a civil office of trust, under the government of the United States. But in Mr. Adams' career there was no boyhood." His know- ledge of French, indeed, appears to have been of real service in interpret- ing between his chief and the French minister, the Marquis de Verac, with whom the negotiations were conducted at the Russian capital. In the autumn of the succeeding year he left St. Peters- burg for a winter in Stockholm, and in the spring travelled alone through Sweden, Denmark and Germany to the Hague, where in May, 1773, we hear of him in his father's correspondence, as again " pursuing his studies with great ardor." He was present with his father at the concluding peace negotia- tions at Paris, where he witnessed the signing of the memorable final treaty. The greater part of the next two years was passed in London and Paris, where he had now the society of his mother. He is still the same vigilant student, while he assists his father as his secre- tary. " He is a noble fellow," writes John Adams from Auteuil to Francis Dana at the close of 1784, " and will make a good Greek or Roman, I hope, for he spends his whole time in their company, when he is not writing for me »i When his father was appointed the first minister plenipotentiary to Eng- land, it was but natural to suppose that the secretary who had shared his hum- bler labors would have desired to par- ticipate in the full-blown honors of the 1 John Adams' Works, IX. 527. royal court. There is not one youth in a thousand who would have resisted the temptation. For what does John Quincy Adams, at the age of eighteen, after his responsible duties in Russia, his independent sojourn in Stockholm, and intercourse with the brilliant Ame- rican circles in Paris, with Franklin at the centre, exchange the splendid pro- spect of life in the British metropolis ? For the leading-strings and restraints of Harvard, and a toilsome pupilage at the bar. The choice between inclina- tion and duty never was more tempt- ingly presented. His own expression of the resolve is too memorable to be omitted. " I have been seven years travelling in Europe," he writes, " see- ing the world and in its society. If I return to the United States, I must be subject,-one or two years, to the rules of a college, pass three more in the tedious study of the law, before I can hope to bring myself into piofessional notice. The prospect is discouraging. If I accompany my father to London, my satisfaction would probably be greater than by returning to the United States; but I shall loiter away my pre- cious time, and not go home until I am forced to it. My father has been all his lifetime occupied by the interests of the public. His own fortune has suffered. His children must provide for themselves. I am determined to get my own living, and to be depend- ent upon no one. With a tolerable share of common sense, I hope in Ame- rica to be independent and free. Ra- ther than live otherwise, I would wish to die before my time." 1 1 Quincy's Memoir, p. 5. JOHiN QUINCY ADAMS. 9 With this creditable resolve he bore with him from his father a letter to Benjamin Waterhouse, touching his ex- amination at Harvard. The solicitous parent, who had read some of the classics with his son, and forsaking the card-table, attempted even an introduc- tion to the higher mathematics, in which he failed, candidly admitting that these abstruse studies had quite departed from him in thirty years' ut- ter unconsciousness of them, is anxious to impress upon his friend those gene- ral acquisitions which might be ob- scured at an examination for want of some of the technicalities of instruction. Thus, while he had steadily pursued his studies, and made written transla- tions of the iEneid, Suetonius, Sallust, Tacitus' Agricola and Germany, and portions of the Annals, with a good part of Horace, he might be defective in quantities and parsing. Harvard, however, was not likely to be too inex- orable in her demands; nor was the pupil likely to fall short of them. Af- ter a few months' reading with the Rev. Mr. Shaw of Haverhill, he was admitted to the junior class in March, 1786, and continuing in the tTniversity Long enough to leave a fragrant memo- ry of his scholarship and good princi- ples, received his degree the following year. His commencement oration, which was published, was on " The Im- portance and Necessity of Public Faith to the Well-being of a Community." He now engaged in a three years' course of the study of the law, with Theophilus Parsons, at Newburyport, in which he must have heard much from his vigorous-minded preceptor, who afterwards became chief justice of the State, of the struggle then going on for the adoption of the Constitution. Adams was admitted to the bar in 1790, and at once, as he long afterwards expressed it, " commenced what I can hardly call the practice of the law in the city of Boston." For the first three years he had the usual opportunity of young lawyers for further study; and unlike many of them, he availed him- self of it. A portion of his leisure was spent in the discussion of the impor- tant political questions of the day. He answered the plausible sophistries on government, of Paine's " Rights of Man," in a series of essays published in Rus- sell's " Columbian Centinel," signed Publicola; and in 1793, in the same journal, urged neutrality upon the country in the contest between Eng- land and France, and attacked the in- solent Genet in terms of wholesome indignation. This service, and doubt- less his father's great successes in Hol- land, led Washington's administration to appoint him, in 1794, minister to the Netherlands. His acceptance of this honorable position was at the cost of a rapidly developing legal practice. Ar- riving in London in time to confer with Jay, whose British treaty was then getting adjusted, he reached Hol- land in season to witness the occupa- tion of the country by the French pro- pagandists. He remained at the Hague, availing himself of the opportunities and leisure of the place to add to those stores %of knowledge already consider- able, which he had accumulated, with the exception of a few months passed in diplomatic business in England till 10 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. the summer of 1797, when he received the appointment of minister to Portu- gal. On his father's occupancy of the Presidency this was changed to the mission to Berlin. Before proceeding to his new post he passed over to Eng- land to claim the hand of a lady to whom he had become engaged on a former visit, Miss Louisa Catharine Johnson, the daughter of'the American consul at London. Adams felt at first a natural reluc- tance to accept an important office at the hands of his father; but his inde- pendence was reconciled to the step when he learned that it had been urged by Washington himself, who considered him fully entitled by his previous ser- vices, to diplomatic promotion. He now took up his residence at Berlin. He was engaged in this mission to the close of his father's administration. During this time he negotiated a treaty of commerce with Prussia, and in the summer of 1800 made a considerable tour in Silesia. A number of letters' addressed to his brother in America, descriptive of this country, were pub- lished without his advice in the " Port Folio," and a few years after were issued in a volume by a London pub- lisher. In this collection they form a methodically written work, descriptive of the industry and resources of an in- teresting country with a comprehensive account of its history and geography. Adams also, during his residence at Berlin, employed himself in several literary compositions, of which the most important was a poetical version of Wieland's " Oberon." He intended this for publication, but found that Sotheby, the English translator, had anticipated him. Several satires of Juvenal were also among his transla- tions. He moreover prepared for pub- lication in America, a treatise of Frede- rick de Gentz, " On the Origin and Principles of the American ^Revolution," which interested him by its apprecia- tion of American principles of liberty, as contradistinguished from the license of the French Revolution. On his return to Boston, he turned his attention again to the study and re- sumed the practice of the law. He was not, however, suffered to remain long free from official employment. A few months after his arrival he was called to the Senate of Massachusetts, and almost immediately chosen to the Sen- ate of the United States. It was at that period of the disintegration of the federal party when the old order of things was fast going out, and the new was not fully established. Adams, who was always inclined to think for himself, chose an independent position. In some things, as the constitutionality of taking possession of Louisiana, in the way in which it was done, he op- posed the administration; in voting for the appropriation of the purchase mo- ney, he was with it. When the promi- nent measures of Jefferson's administra- tion in reference to England began to take shape in the Embargo, he was at variance with his colleague, Mr. Pick- ering. He was of opinion that submis- sion to British aggression was no longer a virtue. His course, which was considered a renunciation of federalism, created a storm in Massachusetts, where the legislature, in anticipation of the CY ADAMS. 1J usual period, elected a successor to his senatorial term. Upon this censure he immediately resigned. His retirement was characteristic enough. He had been some time be- fore, in 1805, chosen professor of rhet- oric and oratory on the Boylston foun- dation at Harvard, and had delivered his Inaugural the following year. The preparation of these lectures, in the de- livery of which he now continued to be employed, called for fresh classical stu- dies ; but to study he was never averse, and it is the memorable lesson of his career, that the pursuits of literature are not only the ornament of political life, but the best safeguards of the per- sonal dignity of the politician, when, as must sometimes happen with an inde- pendent man, he is temporarily thrown out of office by party distractions. If he is then found, as Adams always was, making new acquisitions of learning, and preparing anew for public useful- ness, he must and will be respected, whichever way the popular favor of the moment may blow. Mr. Adams con- tinued his duties at Harvard, reading lectures and 'presiding oyer the exer- cises in elocution till the summer of 1809. In the following year, his " Lec- tures on Oratory, delivered to the Sen- ior and Junior Sophisters in Harvard University," were published at Cam- bridge. Mr. Edward Everett, who was at the time one of the younger students, bears witness to the interest with which these discourses were received, not merely by the collegians but by various voluntary listeners from the neighborhood. "They formed," he says, " an era in the University, and were," he thinks, " the first successful attempt in the country at this form of instruction in any department of litera- ture." Immediately upon the entrance of Madison upon the Presidency, Adams received the appointment of minister to Russia, the court which he had ap- proached, in his boyish secretaryship, during the Revolution, with Dana. He sailed from Boston early in August, 1809, in a merchant ship, for St. Peters- burg ; but from various detentions, a rough passage, and the vexatious exam- inations of the British cruisers in the Baltic, then blockading Denmark, he did not arrive in Russia till October. The commercial embarrassments, in the complicated relations of the great Na- poleonic wars of the time, witnessed on the voyage, in the detention and oppression of American ships, furnished his chief diplomatic business at the imperial court. As much as any man, perhaps, he aided in solving these international difficulties. He had a cordial reception at court on his first arrival, and as time wore on, having prepared the way by his interviews with Count Romanzoff, the chancellor of the empire, received a proffer of mediation from the Emperor Alexan- der, between Great Britain and the United States, in 'the war which had now broken out. The offer was ac- cepted at home, and in the summer of 1813, he was joined at St.«Petersburg by his fellow commissioners, Bayard and Gallatin, appointed for the negotia- tion. The mediation was not, however, accepted by Great Britain, though it proved a step forward to the final con- ferences and adjustment at Ghent. England proposed to treat directly at Gottenburg or London. The American government chose the former, and Adams was placed on the commission with Bayard, Clay, Russell and Galla- tin, to negotiate. Before his arrival on the spot, he learnt that the conference was appointed at Ghent, whither he proceeded in the summer of 1814; and, after a protracted round of diplomacy, had the satisfaction of signing the Treaty of Peace the day before Christ- mas of that year. The scene of this event in that region which had wit- nessed his father's successes, and his early entrance upon the world, and above all, the event itself closing the gates of war, as his father again had signed the great pacification of 1783, must have been peculiarly gratifying, not merely to his patriotic pride, but to the love of method which character- ized his life. He may readily have recognized in it that courteous fate which so often marked the career of his family. If there is a political as well as a poetical justice, it was cer- tainly exhibited in the history of John Quincy Adams, and his illustrious father. The coincidences are most striking. Adams having now closed his mis- sion to St. Petersburg, and having been appointed minister to Great Britain, was joined by his family from Russia, in Paris, where he witnessed the return of Napoleon from Elba, and the com- mencement of the Hundred Days. It was one of those dramatic surprises of Parisian life, which we may expect to be faithfully represented in Mr. Adams' CY ADAMS. Diary, when it shall be given to the world. We get, perhaps, a glimpse of his record in his biographer, Mr. Quin- cy's narrative. Napoleon, we are told, " alighted so silently, that Mr. Adams, who was at the Theatre Francais, not a quarter of a mile distant, was una- ware of the fact till the next day, when the gazettes of Paris, which had show- ered execrations upon him, announced ' the arrival of his majesty, the empe- ror, at his palace of the Tuileries.' In the Place du Carousel, Mr. Adams, in his morning walk, saw regiments of cavalry belonging to the garrison of Paris, which had been sent out to oppose Napoleon, pass in review before him, their helmets and the clasps of their belts yet glowing with the arms of the Bourbons. The theatres assumed the title of Imperial, and at the opera in the evening, the arms of the Empe- ror were placed on the curtain, and on the royal box." Adams, again respecting his father's precedents, took up his residence with his family in London. He was the American representative at the court of St. James for two years, when he was called by President Monroe to his cabinet as Secretary of State. His time in England was passed in the best society of books, things and men. After concluding the commercial rela- tions of the treaty, he removed from London to a retired residence, at Bos- ton House, Ealing, nine miles distant, where he found time—he could always make time—for his liberal studies. The year 1817 saw him again in America, at Washington, the leading member of the new administration, in JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 13 the direct line of promotion to the Presidency. Old party lines were be- coming, or had already become extinct. It was a period of fusion, " an era of good feeling," as it came to be called on the quiet reelection of Monroe. The chief diplomatic measures of Adams' secretaryship, had reference to Spain. He was always spirited in his assertions of the foreign policy of the country, and on this occasion was greatly instrumental in the negotiations which ended in the cession of Florida. One of his special services was the pre- paration of an elaborate Report on Weights and Measures, at the call of Congress. He devoted six months of continuous labor to this production, entering into the subject philosophi- cally, and in its historical and practical relations. The report was made to Congress in February, 1821. Adams continued to hold his secre- taryship through both terms of Mon- roe's administration. At its close, he was chosen by the House of Represen- tatives his successor in the Presidency, the vote being divided between Jack- son, himself, Crawford and Clay, who decided the choice by throwing the vote of Kentucky in his favor. His administration, says Mr. Everett, in the address already cited, " was, in its prin- ciples and policy, a continuation of Mr. Monroe's. The special object which he proposed to himself was to bind the distant parts of the countiy together, and promote their mutual prosperity by increased facilities of communica- tion." There were many elements of opposition at work against a reelection, in the complicated struggles of the ii.—2 times. Adams encountered a full mea- sure of unpopularity and retired—in political disaster, as well as in diplo- matic triumph, like his father—to the shades of Quincy—that long retire- ment which had only recently ended in death. The departure from the world of the elder Adams, occurred in the second year of his son's Presidency. Unlike the father, however, he was not to sit brooding over the past. Work, persistent work, was the secret of John Quincy Adams' life. Of a tough mental fibre, there was no such thing as defeat, while he had a mind to contrive, a tongue to utter, or a hand to hold the pen. He was sixty-two at his retirement from the Presidency, within a few years of the age when his father was succeeded by Jefferson. Both felt the storm of unprecedented party spirit and annoyance, and both yielded to great popular heroes. Literature again offered her hand to her assiduous son. " His active, ener- getic spirit," we are told, " required neither indulgence nor rest, and he immediately directed his attention to those philosophical, literary and reli- gious researches, in which he took un- ceasing delight. The works of Cicero became the object of study, analysis and criticism. Commentaries on that master-mind of antiquity were among his daily labors. The translation of the Psalms of David into English verse was a frequent exercise ; and his study of the Scriptures was accompanied by critical remarks, pursued in the spirit of free inquiry, chastened by a solemn reference to their origin and influence on the conduct and hopes of human 14 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. life. His favorite science, astronomy, led to the frequent 'observation of the planets and stars; and his attention was also called to agriculture and hor- ticulture. He collected and planted the seeds of forest trees, and kept a record of their development; and, in the summer season, labored two or three hours daily in his garden. With these pursuits were combined sketches preparatory to a full biography of his father, which he then contemplated as one of his chief future employments."1 He was, however, again soon called into action, being elected, in November, 1830, by his district, to the House of Representatives. It was a novel spec- tacle—an ex-president of the United States sitting in the lower house, but it was fully in accordance with the spirit of our institutions, which honor all faithful servants of the public. Nor is it to be denied that at least equal talent may be called for, and equal influence exerted in the discharge of duties of public life, which to the eye of the world have a comparative inferiority of position. Power may be wielded by a representative which may govern the administration itself. There are many acts of our legislative bodies more potential than the simple acquies- cence of the Executive; as the origina- tor of a measure or line of policy must be of more consequence than the instru- ment which gives it effect. For more than sixteen years Adams labored at his seat in the House. He was the most punctual man of the assembly, always on the alert; cool, resolute, even 1 Josiah Quincy's Biography, p. 175-6. pugnacious. There was scarcely a ques- tion, involving a point of morality, of national honor, or of literary and philo- sophical culture, on which his voice was not heard. He supported the de- mands of Jackson upon France; he asserted and successfully maintained the right of petition against vast obloquy and opposition; he was especially in- strumental in the establishment of the National Observatory, and the Smithso- nian Institution. A bare enumeration of his speeches, writings and addresses, would fill the space assigned to this sketch—lectures and addresses on points of law, government, history, biography and science, moral and social, local and national, before sena- tors and before youths, on anniversa- ries of towns, on eras of the State, eulogies on the illustrious dead, on Madison, Monroe, Lafayette, the oration at the Jubilee of the Constitution. As he had lived, so he died in har- ness. Death found him where he could have wished its approach, in the halls of Congress. His robust powers of body and mind had held out surpris- ingly, as his vigor, no less than his venerable appearance in the House, enforced an authority not always read- ily conceded to the persistence in unpopular appeals of "the old man eloquent." He was approaching eighty: still in the exercise of his extraordinary faculties, when, in a recess of Congress, walking in the streets of Boston, in November, 1846, he was stricken by paralysis, from which, nevertheless, he recovered in time to take his seat in Congress early in the year. The House rose to greet him, and he was conducted JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 15 to his chair with marked honors. He felt, however, his approach to the grave. There is a most touching evi- dence of this in the anecdote related by Mr. Everett. His journal, the diary of his long life, interrupted the day of his attack, was resumed after an inter- val of nearly four months, with the title, " Posthumous Memoir." Writing in its now darkened pages, he says of the day when it was interrupted, "From that hour I date my decease, and consider myself, for every useful purpose to myself and fellow creatures, dead, and hence I call this, and what I may hereafter write, a posthumous memoir." He continued in the House another year, when the final messenger came, on Monday morning, the twenty-first of February, 1848. After passing a Sunday in harmony with his elevated religious life, he was observed to ascend the steps of the Capitol with his accus- tomed alacrity. As he rose, with a paper in his hand, to address the Speaker in the House, he was seized by a return of paralysis, and fell, uttering, "this is the last of earth— I am content." He was taken, as the House adjourned, to an adja- cent room, where he lingered over Washington's birthday till the twenty- third, when he died in the speaker's apartment, under the roof of the Cap- itol. His remains were taken to Bos- ton, reposed in state in old Faneuil Hall, and were quietly laid by the side of his parents, in a grave at Quincy. The lesson of such a life is plain. Labor, conscientiousness, religious duty; talent borne out to its utmost stretch of performance by the industrious im- provement of every opportunity; the self-rewarding pursuits of letters and science, in the gratification of an insa- tiable desire for knowledge; a constant invigoration of the moral powers by the strenuous discharge of duty; inde- pendence bought by self-denial and prudence, enjoying its wealth — the calm temper, the untroubled life—in the very means of acquiring it. How noble an illustration of the powers of life! When the correspondence and Di ary, which Adams maintained through his long life, shall be published—when his writings shall be collected from the stray sheets in which they have been given to the winds, when the literary aids, due to his memory, shall be gathered in the library about his fair fame, there will be seen an enduring monument of a most honorable life of public service and mental activity. DAVID This adventurous hero, the " Paul Jones of the second war of Indepen- dence, with a more capacious and bet- ter regulated mind," was born in Bos- ton, February 1, 1780. His father, Captain David Porter, commanded a merchant ship out of that port, and was distinguished as an officer of ener- gy and activity in the naval service of the Revolutionary war. At the con- clusion of the struggle the family re- moved to Baltimore, where the father commanded a revenue cutter, and be- came engaged in the West India trade. It was in one of these latter voyages that his son, at the age of sixteen, was introduced to the service of the ocean. Thus launched on the deep, a youth of courage and mettle, he made the element his home, and speedily famil- iarized himself with its scenes of peril and warfare. It was at that unsettled period of our foreign relations, when our shipping was oppressed alike by our old enemy, England, and our recent ally, France. Aggression was rife, on all sides. On this first voyage, young Porter was witness to one of those in- sults and assaults. While in port at the island of St. Domingo, a press gang endeavored to board his father's vessel. The assailants were manfully resisted, with slaughter on both sides. A man PORTER. was shot down by the side of the youth. Such was his introduction to the mer- cantile service in 1796. On his next voyage to the same island, which he made in the capacity of mate, he was twice impressed by the British, and each time contrived to make his escape, reduced, however, to such circumstances of privation, that in his need he was compelled to work his passage home- ward in the winter season, ill clad, and exposed to all the rigors of a northern icy coast. Soon after reaching home he applied for admission into the navy, obtained a midshipman's warrant and joined the Constellation, Captain Truxton, then recently put in commission, and already distinguished by her services on the coast. In the famous action of this vessel, in February, 1799, with the French frigate, the Insurgente, which ended in the capture of the latter, mid- shipman David Porter had command of the foretop, a position, as it turned out, of peril and responsibility in the engagement. When the prize was taken, Porter was sent on board of her with Lieutenant Rodgers and eleven men to take possession and remove her prisoners. Before this duty could be discharged, night came on, and a heavy blow separated the vessel from the ♦ X ♦ **' DAVID PORTER. 17 Constellation, leaving this little guard to control one hundred and seventy- th ree» unfettered Frenchmen. The hand- ful of American seamen, however, were well officered; the prisoners were got into the hold, and though eager to escape, kept there by the superior resolution and vigilance of their cap- tors, who, besides their duty of work- ing the ship, watched as a guard at the hatchways for three days, till the vessel was brought safely to the Constellation at St. Kitt's. For this brilliant service, Porter, at the time, received no promo- tion. Before the close of the year, however, he was made lieutenant. He served with honor and distinction in the West India service, till the termination of this quasi-war with France. The terms of peace with that nation were settled early in 1801, and in the spring of the same year a new field for our infant navy was opened in a dis- tant quarter of the world, in the aggres- sions and defiance of the bashaw of Tripoli. Porter sailed to the Mediter- ranean in the Enterprise, in Commo- dore Dale's squadron, and assisted in the capture of a Tripolitan vessel of some note. In May, 1803, we find, him first lieutenant of Commodore Morris' flag-ship, the New York, engaged in a brilliant adventure in the harbor of old Tripoli, in reconnoitering and setting on fire a number of feluccas laden with wheat, which had taken refuge under the batteries of the town. In this affair he received a slight wound in the right, and a musket ball in the left thigh. These wounds were inflicted at the outset of the attack ; yet he con- tinued in command to the close of the action. On his recovery he was transferred, in September, to Captain Bainbridge's frigate, the Philadelphia, at Gibraltar, and speedily returned in that vessel to the scene of his late enterprise off Tri- poli. He was thus engaged in the blockade, when the Philadelphia had the misfortune, in chasing a vessel of the enemy, to be thrown upon a reef at the entrance of the harbor. After the most heroic efforts to escape, and fighting to the uttermost, the frigate was compelled to surrender, and her officers and crew to go into captivity. The story of that imprisonment, pro- tracted for more than a year and a half, is a memorable event in our national annals. Its tedious, monotonous en- durance was broken by many noble attempts at rescue on the part of the American fleet, and by the gallant act of Decatur, in the burning of the cap- tured vessel in the harbor; the arrival of the Constitution, and the successive bombardments of Commodore Preble ; the fatal explosion of the Intrepid in the harbor, sweeping the noble Somers to an untimely end—incidents all of which occurred within sight and hear- ing of the prisoners. Within, the cap- tives bore their imprisonment with equanimity, and waited for a better day. They even availed themselves of this dismal leisure to strengthen them- selves in the duties of their profession for future service. By the kindness of M. Nissen, the Danish consul, an excel- lent supply of books was furnished them. These were read with avidity and a systematic course of instruction 1<5 DAVID PORTER. entered upon by the younger officers. Lieutenant Porter directed these stu- dies, and made various acquisitions of his own in general literature, the French language, and drawing. The repeated attacks of Preble, aud other operations of the war, finally brought the stubborn Tripolitans to terms of surrender. Peace was con- cluded June 3, 1805, and the prisoners released. A naval court of inquiry was then held at Syracuse, which exon- erated the officers from censure in the loss of the Philadelphia, after which Lieutenant Porter was appointed to the command of the Enterprise, and cruised along the African coast in the neighborhood of Tripoli, stopping to indulge his historical and antiquarian tastes in a scholar's admiration of the Roman remains of Leptis Magna. An incident which occurred at Malta, illus- trates the temper of the times with re- spect to England and the resolute spirit of the young heroes of the American navy. A foul-mouthed British sailor came alongside the Enterprise, abusing the officers and crew, for which Captain Porter promptly ordered him seized and flogged at the gangway. The governor, naturally indignant, ordered the vessel to be detained; but Porter, with lighted matches and the men at their posts, swept by the forts without interruption. His last adventure in the Mediterranean was a conflict with twelve Spanish gunboats, which he soundly punished for their rashness in attacking him, in sight of Gibraltar. After five years' absence from home in the Mediterranean, he returned to America, and signalized a brief interval of leisure by marriage to Miss Ander- son, a lady of Pennsylvania. He was then appointed to the New Orleans station, where he was employed in en forcing the embargo and non-inter- course laws. It may be noted as a curious coincidence, that his father, an officer in the service, died while under his command on this sta- tion. Desirous of exchanging this locality, which was injurious to his health, for another, he was appointed to the command of the Essex, a small frigate of thirty-two guns. The actual breaking out of the war which had been long impending with England, found him, at the time of the declara- tion of hostilities, in June, 1812, refit- ting his ship at New York. In a few days he was at sea, leaving Sandy Hook on the third of July and cruis- ing to the southward. He took some prizes, and was then compelled by stress of weather to change his course to the north. While off the banks, as he was going before a southerly wind, he came up with an English fleet, con- sisting of a frigate and bomb-vessel con- ducting several transports. It was at night, towards morning, with a dull moon feebly lighting the sea. Coming up first with one of the transports, he learnt .the nature of the fleet, and as the ships were sailing widely apart, he determined to push his vessel, a fast sailer, to the frigate in the van, and encounter her as a prize worthy of his steel. The second transport, as he came up, was suspicious of his movements, and was about to give the alarm, when he threatened a broadside and quietly gained possession of her. She was DAVID PORTER. 19 found to be filled with troops. The convoy ship meanwhile sailed away. A few days' sailing brought the Essex within view of a British frigate, which proved to be the Alert, of twen- ty guns. Captain Porter's vessel was at the time disguised as a merchant- man, " her gun-deck ports in, top-gal- lant masts housed, and sails trimmed in a slovenly manner." The English vessel consequently bore down upon her expecting an easy prize, when the Essex knocked out her ports, opened fire, and in eight minutes reduced her adversary to a sinking condition. The Alert, thus captured, was the first ship of war taken in the contest. She was sent as a cartel into St. Johns, with the prisoners. Captain Porter shortly after turned into the Delaware to re- plenish his ship's water and stores. The Essex was now attached to the squadron of Captain Bainbridge, his command consisting, in addition, of the Constitution and Hornet. The whole were to cruise on the coast of Brazil, and thence cross the Atlantic to intercept the homeward-bound East India ships. Bainbridge sailed from Boston with his flag-ship and the Hor- net, on the 26th October, directing that the Essex should follow him from the Delaware, stopping at certain appoint- ed stations of rendezvous on his grand route. The Essex accordingly sailed two days after the other vessels, tra- versing the long distance to the equator without the opportunity of making a prize. Shortly after passing that line, however, on the twelfth of December, she captured the Nocton, a British gov- ernment packet, \* hich yielded fifty-five thousand dollars in specie to his trea sury. Being heavily laden, the Essex did not overtake her companions at the first appointed station, at the island Fernando Neronha, which was reach ed a few days after the capture just men- tioned. They were making their way to St. Salvador, both ships to secure their triumphs on the South American coast: one in the conquest of the Java; the other, of the Peacock. Capt. Porter, after beating about for some time, in vain efforts to join his comrades of the squadron, the ground, meanwhile, becoming more dangerous, from the presence of British cruisers, took the responsibility of deciding upon his movements for himself. He continued a southerly course, and the eastern parts of the continent being it. the English interest, and consequently closed to him, he determined to double Cape Horn, and forage upon the com- merce of the enemy in the Pacific. This resolution was formed after he had failed to secure adequate supplies at the island of St. Catherines, the last place of rendezvous on the coast of Brazil, and in face of the thickening dangers which beset him. " The sea son, to be sure," says he in his journal of the 26th of January, 1813, the date of his leaving the island, " was far ad- vanced for doubling Cape Horn; our stock of provisions was short, and the ship in other respects not well supplied for so long a cruise—to the port of Concepcion, on the coast of Chili—but there appeared no other choice left for me, except capture, starvation or block- ade ; and this course, of all others, ap- peared to me the most justifiable, as it 20 DAVID PORTER. accorded with the views of the honor- able Secretary of the Navy, as well as those of my immediate commander." The Pacific project had, in fact, been submitted to the Secretary of the Navy before the declaration of war, and met with his approval, and Commodore Bainbridge had concurred in the idea, provided the necessary supply of pro- visions could be obtained. It was not, therefore, an entirely unauthorized ad- venture upon which the Essex was pro- ceeding. The voyage round Cape Horn was a rough prelude to its better fortunes. For more than a month in those south- ern latitudes, on either side of the ex- tremity of the continent, the Essex was tempest tossed in that stormy sea. At length the coast of Chili was reached, and on the sixth of March a landing made at the island of Mocha, a not unfriendly though deserted station, affording a supply of fresh provisions to the crew, in the horses and hogs which ran wild over its surface. From this place the Essex ran down the coast with the hope of meeting some of the enemy's vessels from which supplies might be obtained ; and failing in this, struck boldly into the port of Valpa- raiso, the captain reluctantly feeling himself compelled to resort to the ten- der mercies of the Spanish officials, from whom little friendship was to be anticipated. Great was his gratifica- tion on being received with eminent distinction. The Chilians had just thrown off their allegiance to Spain, and set up their independence. They hailed his national vessel as a timely visitant from a sister republic. Hos- pitalities were freely extended and every facility afforded of replenishing his stores. Intent upon the grand ob- ject of his voyage,, he did not, of course, linger long amidst these seductions. Stored with a superfluity of jerked beef and other provisions, the Essex left the port eager for approaching con- flicts. Overhauling a whale-ship, the Charles, of Nantucket, information was had from the captain that two of his consorts, the Barclay and the Walker, had been taken possession of by a Spanish and an English ship near the port of Coquimbo. The Essex was accordingly hastened on her. way, in search of the aggressors. In no long time she fell in with a ship of war disguised as a whaler, the real character of which was at once detected by Captain Porter. He had now raised the English flag, and hailed the vessel, when a shot was fired from her which passed the bow of the Essex. It was responded to by a few shot over the deck of the stranger, which brought alongside a boat, that was sent back with orders to her captain to run along- side, and come on board with his papers and offer an apology for his rudeness to an English frigate. The ruse succeeded perfectly. The captain was ill, but a lieutenant arrrived and disburdened himself not only of the required apology, but of much informa- tion of a character exceedingly agreea- ble to the ears of Captain Porter. He was informed that the vessel before him was the Peruvian privateer Nerey- da, of fifteen guns, out on a cruise for American vessels ; that she had recent- ly captured the two whalers of which DAVID PORTER. 21 he had heard, and that one of them, the Walker, had been taken from her by a British letter-of-marque, the Nim- rod, and that, supposing Porter's vessel might be that aggressor, the shot had been fired. The privateer, apart from this, professed the greatest respect for the English flag; his sole object, in fact, on the cruise was the capture of American vessels, of which, though he had been four months out, he had taken but the two alluded to, and that the captain of one of them was now on board his vessel. Upon hearing this, Porter sent for the American captain, and, closeted with him in his cabin, had the whole candid revelation con- firmed. He then hoisted the American flag, to legalize the capture, and, firing a couple of guns, the Nereyda struck her colors. She was stripped to her topsails and courses, and in that condi- tion sent back to Callao with her crew of Spaniards, bearing a message to the viceroy of Peru, from Captain Porter, commending her commander to such punishment at the hands of his excel- lency as as his violation of American commerce might deserve. The Ameri- cans on board the privateer were liber- ated ; a portion of them joining the Charles, the rest volunteering for ser- vice in the Essex. The latter then bore up for the northwest, and at the entrance to Callao rescued the Barclay, one of the whalers which had been cap- tured by the Nereyda. This vessel now joined the Essex, and her captain proved of eminent service in directing the cruiser to the haunts of the enemy. He was unintentionally seconded in this good work by the master of a n.-3 Spanish brig from Callao, which the Essex met with. The latter, under the English flag, enjoyed again the most confidential communication with the unsuspecting Spaniard, who imparted much interesting information regarding the English and other vessels she had left in port. The Essex continued her voyage along the coast, and meeting with no- thing of importance turned her course to the Gallipagos Islands, near the Equator, a favorite resort of the whal- ers. Chatham Island, the most easterly of this group, was made on the 17 th of April, and Charles and Albemarle were visited in succession, without re- sult beyond a curious inspection of these remarkable volcanic islands and the capture of an occasional turtle or land tortoise, till the morning of the twenty-ninth brought a long-coveted sail in sight, which proved to be the whale-ship Montezuma, with fourteen hundred barrels of spermaceti oil. She was spoken under British colors, and the captain, being invited on board, gave such information in the cabin as he had to communicate, while his crew were quietly taken from his vessel to the deck of the Essex. There were two other vessels in sight, the Georgiana, of six eighteen pounders, twenty-five men, and two hundred and eighty tons, and the Policy, of ten six-pounders, twenty-six men and one hundred and seventy-five tons. Both these vessels surrendered an easy prey to a boarding party led by Lieutenant Downes, in the boats of the Essex, the wind be- coming too light for the latter to follow in pursuit. 22 DAVID PORTER. The gallant leader of this daring ad- venture was a man of comprehensive mind, whose plans, rapid and flourish- ing as were his fortunes, always went beyond them. In his gigantic enter- prise, his single small frigate expanded as if by a miracle into a fleet, destined not only to sweep the commerce of a great nation from an ocean, but to con- trol her armed cruisers. The Essex swept on her way with a tributary train of British vessels behind, some converted into storeships, others fitted up as supplementary vessels of war. The Georgiana became thus as formid- able, in point of armament, as any of the British privateers afloat in those waters. This prize was commanded by Lieutenant Downes, who, parting from the Essex, in a cruise among: the islands, made three important captures, with two of which, dismissing the third with his prisoners on parole, he very skilfully managed to join Captain Por- ter, falling in with him again at Tum- bez, in the gulf of Guayaquil, whi- ther he had gone to procure water for his fleet. The Essex meanwhile had added to her conquests two other Brit- ish whalers, the Atlantic and Green- wich, respectively of 355 and 338 tons, 24 and 25 men, and eight and ten guns. The Atlantic having proved her qualities as a good sailer, and being, in every way, a better ship than the Geor- giana, was fitted up with twenty guns, christened the Essex Junior, and given to Lieutenant Downes as her comman- der. A few days after leaving the har- bor, the Fourth of July was celebrated by a salute of seventeen guns fired from the Essex, Essex Junior, and Greenwich, the crews spending the da\ in " the utmost conviviality," by aid of a bountiful supply of spirits furnished by the enemy's stores. The Essex Jun- ior, being now fully equipped, was pre- sently sent with four of the prize ships to Valparaiso, that they might be sold with their cargoes; and this being ac- complished, Lieutenant Downes was directed to sail with supplies to join him either at Banks Island or at one of the Marquesas, whither Captain Por- ter would proceed with the Essex, which now stood in need of a thorough refitting. The latter, having with him the Georgiana and the Greenwich, now sailed for the old whaling rendezvous of the Gallipagos, in the waters of which, off Banks Bay, a favorite resort, he made three fresh captures, including the Seringapatam, of fourteen guns, " the finest British ship in those seas," having been built as a man of war for the renowned Tippoo Saib, and now commanded by an enterprising captain, who had already taken a Nantucket whaler. Some six weeks afterwards, in September, the Essex had the good fortune to fall in with the armed whaler, Sir Andrew Hammond, of 301 tons, twelve guns and thirty-one men. She was overtaken off the island of Albemarle, while engaged in cutting up whales. Her capture completed a list of twelve British privateering ves- sels taken in a few months by Captain Porter and his companions in the Paci- fic. Proceeding to Banks Bay to rejoin his prizes, he was there joined by Lieu- tenant Downes, on his return from Val- paraiso, in the Essex Junior. With DAVID PORTER. 23 that vessel and his little fleet of prizes, now consisting of the storeship Green- wich, the Seringapatam, the Hammond, and New Zealander—the Georgiana and another having been freighted with oil and dispatched to the United States, two dismissed with the prison- ers on parole, and the rest being at Valparaiso—Captain Porter proceeded to the group of the Marquesas, which he reached on the twenty-third of Oc- tober, the very month in which, a year before, he had sailed from the Dela- ware. The first land which they made of the islands was one of the group claimed to be discovered some twenty years before by Captain Roberts, of Boston, and patriotically named by him the Washington Islands. There was some intercourse of a friendly character with the natives before the little fleet sailed into its resting-place, a few leagues further to the westward, in the bay of Nooaheevah. Here Cap- tain Porter, finding the anchorage good, the disposition of the inhabitants favor- able to his views, and the land abun- dantly stored with the fresh provisions of which he stood so much in need, determined to remain till the object of his visit, in refitting his vessel, was accomplished. His plans at the outset were greatly facilitated by the pre- sence of an Englishman, who, having been many years on the island, was perfectly familiar with the language, and who showed himself quite willing to act as interpreter. He also found there, oddly enough, a midshipman of the United States navy on furlough, who had been left by a Canton trader to collect sandal-wood against his re- turn. With these introductions, and the easy manners of the tribe who oc- cupied the bay, the party soon felt themselves quite at home. The only difficulty which they had to anticipate was from the tribes who were at war with one another in the valleys which seamed the mountainous surface of the island—the Happahs, and more formid- able Typees. With his usual direct- ness, Captain Porter soon taught these belligerents a lesson of fear by an armed incursion into their territories, after which he was perfectly secure in his little settlement on the shore, and the whole island was tributary to his larder. It was, in fact, something more than a temporary resting-place which he pro- posed to establish while his frigate was undergoing repairs. He meditated no- thing less than a permanent occupa- tion for his countrymen, and for this purpose, on the 19th November, when he had become somewhat acquainted with the people, took possession of the island, with a formal declaration, in which he set forth the usual claim to priority of discovery, conquest and pos- session ; the customary good will of the natives who welcomed his protection, and the imposing ceremonial of raising the flag, firing a salute from a fort which he had armed from the ships' guns, and burying a copy of the instru- ment, with several United States coins, in a bottle at the foot of the flagstaff. This is the ready way in which empires then and since have been created on the bosom of the broad Pacific. The proceeding was. completed by naming 21 DAVID PORTER the island, in honor of the war Presi- dent at home, Madison ; the fort, Fort Madison ; the village, Madison's Ville, and the bay, Massachusetts Bay— names, we fear, quite lost sight of by the French, who have since enacted their ceremonies in their turn, and who now hold possession. Six weeks were passed at the island, in refitting the Essex and in various intercourse with the natives, which was of so enticing a nature that it required all the commander's energy to with- draw his men from this seductive rest- ing-place. After this exercise of au- thority, leaving three of the prizes moored under the guns of the fort, to which he detailed a small force under Lieutenant Gamble, and forwarding the fourth prize to the United States, he set sail from the pleasant bay in company with the Essex Junior, in quest of more stirring adventures on the coast of Chili. Captain Porter, indeed, was already aware, by information brought him on the return of Lieutenant Downes from Valparaiso, of the warlike preparations making by the British to drive him from the ocean. The frigate Phoebe, thirty-six guns, and the Raccoon and Cherub, of twenty-four each, were, he knew, in search of him; and he had no disposition, under tolerably equal circumstances, to thwart their endea- vors. Nor was he unwilling to seek an opportunity of acquiring greater o;lory in a conflict with an armed fri- gate, than could accrue from conquests, however numerous, over less powerfully protected merchantmen. He accord in ely sailed along the South America! ports, looking in at Concepcion and other harbors, and finally anchoring, on the third of February, 1814, in the bay of Valparaiso. The Essex Junior was left to watch outside for the arri val of the enemy, who might naturally be expected at the port. With his usual gallantry, Commodore Porter, again welcomed to the city, was bent upon returning the courtesies of the townspeople, whose entertainment on board his vessel had been inter- rupted on his previous visit. The ladies, this time, were not disap- pointed of their dance. Before, how- ever, the awnings and flags which had been set up for the occasion could be cleared away, a signal from the Essex Junior announced the arrival of the enemy's ships, the Phoebe, Captain Hill- yer, and her consort, the Cherub. Both vessels of Porter's command awaited their arrival in the harbor, ready for action should an attack be made, but unwilling to take the initiative, out of respect for the neutral port. As it proved, Captain Porter's generous for- bearance on the occasion was entirely misplaced. The Phcebe came up in ad vance of her consort, fully prepared foi action, drawing close alongside the Es- sex as if for attack, which was every moment expected. As she continued to approach, Captain Porter " observed " to Captain Hillyer, who had politely inquired after his health—the two hav- ing been previously on the best of terms in the Mediterranean—that he was ready for action if attacked, receiv- ing the reply, " Oh, sir, I have no in- tention of getting on board of you." To this Porter answered, if he did DAVID there would be much bloodshed. The British officer then renewed his assur- ances, but kept nearing, clumsily bring- ing the jib-boom of his vessel across the forecastle of the Essex. This posi- tion seemed to demand prompt action from the American, and her boarders were ready for their work, when Cap- tain Hillyer protested so vigorously that the attack was suspended. " At that moment," says Porter, " not a gun from the Phcebe could be brought to bear on the Essex or Essex Junior, while her bow was exposed to the rak- ing fire of the one, and her stern to that of the other. Her consort was too far off to afford any assistance. The Phoebe was completely at my mer- cy. I could have destroyed her in fif- teen minutes." We shall see how this forbearance was rewarded. The four vessels were now together in harbor, floating side by side in armed neutrality, enlivened, however, by frequent intimations of defiance. The Phoebe, for instance, would hoist a flag bearing the motto, " God and country; British sailors' best rights; traitors offend both,"—which, it was alleged, was in reply to Porter's favor- ite motto, " Free trade and sailors' rights." This defiance was met by the American with the counter motto," God, our country and liberty—tyrants of- fend them." While these taunts were spread to the breeze aloft, Jack below was engaged in a pastoral contest of ri- val songs, sounded from deck to deck of the hostile vessels. Some of these were original; others selected for their suitability, from the copious stock of the forecastle. "The songs from the PORTER. 25 Cherub," says Porter, in the interesting narrative of the Cruise of the Essex, which he subsequently published, " were better sung, but those of the Essex were more witty and more to the point. The national tune of Yankee Doodle was the vehicle through which the crew of the Essex, in full chorus, conveyed their nautical sarcasms; while The Sweet Little Cherub that Sits up Aloft, was generally selected by their rivals. These things were not only tolerated, but encouraged by the officers, through the whole of the first watch of the calm, delightful nights of Chili, much to the amusement of the people of Val- paraiso, and the frequent annoyance of the crew of the Cherub." Captain Hillyer was inclined to check this con- test, but Captain Porter, anxious to provoke an engagement, was quite dis- posed to encourage it; so it was kept up, " the poetical effusions of our op- ponents," humorously records Porter himself, " becoming so highly meritori ous as to cause a suspicion of their being the production of Captain Hill- yer himself." Various attempts were made by Cap- tain Porter to provoke a challenge, or gain an opportunity for an engagement between the Essex and Phcebe. The advantage of armament, it should be observed, was on the side of the latter; the force of the Essex consisting of forty thirty-two pound carronades, and six lono; twelves, with a crew of two hundred and fifty-five men; the Phoebe mounting thirty long eighteen pounders, sixteen thirty-two pound carronades, one howitzer, and six three-pounders in the tops, with a complement of three 26 DAVID PORTER. hundred and twenty men. But not- withstanding this inequality, the wary Captain Hillyer would only contend when he had clearly an overpowering superiority. The Cherub, which he kept alongside of him, was far more powerful than the Essex Junior. In vain Porter would run out, andtseek to engage the Phoebe alone ; on one occa- sion, provoking an encounter by defi- antly towing out one of his prizes, and burning the vessel in sight of the ene- my. This*came near bringing on an engagement, when the Phoebe, as usual, ran for her consort. Captain Hillyer was prudently waiting for reinforce- ments to secure his prize. Fully aware of the toils which were closing in upon him, and trusting to the superior sail- ing qualities of his ship, Porter at length determined to put to sea, draw- ing the British vessels after him, while the Essex Junior could escape at her leisure. On the twenty-eighth of March, the desired opportunity seemed to have arrived. There was a fresh wind from the southward which carried the Essex to the mouth of the harbor, where the enemy were lying in wait. Unhappily, as the American was rounding the point of the bay, she was struck by a heavy squall, which carried away the main-top-mast, throwing the men who were aloft into the sea, where they were drowned. Both ships then chased the Essex into the neutral waters of tin.1 bay, where she took refuge, within three miles of the town, under the guns of a fort, within pistol shot of the shore. It was evident from the display of m >ttos and jacks on board the Phoebe, that she was moving on to the attack. Captain Porter, consequently, prepared the Essex for action, and was endeavor- ing to get a spring on his cable, when the Phcebe, about four o'clock in the afternoon, placed astern, and the Cherub on the starboard bow, opened their fire. The Cherub presently, also, took her station astern. The enemy had the advantage both in position and in the range of their guns at the long dis- tance, when Captain Porter bringing three of his long twelves to bear from his stern ports—they were worked so well, that, in half an hour, both vessels were compelled to haul off to repair damages. The Essex received consid- erable damage in her rigging, while, for the greater part of the time, help- lessly exposed to this fire. Three times she had succeeded in getting springs on her cables, but so fierce was the fire that they were shot away before the broadside could be brought to bear. There was but one feeling, however, on her deck as both vessels of the enemy came up on the starboard quarter for a fresh attack, which was prudently con- ducted by her long range guns out of reach of the ineffective carronades of the Essex. The only resort for the lat- ter was to close, if possible; but, unfor- fortunately for any such movement, there was not a practicable sail left but the flying jib, the remaining halliards being cut away. With this some head- way was made, feebly assisted by let- ting fall the foretopsail and foresail, the tacks and sheets of which were destroyed. The Essex was thus ena- bled, for a short time, to close with the enemy. The firing on both sides DAVID PORTER 27 now was tremendous—the decks were strewed with dead, the cock-pit filled with wounded, and the ship had been several times on fire, yet the men held on, encouraged by seeing the Cherub haul off. But the Phcebe, with her long guns pouring in upon a disabled vessel, was a fearful adversary. Guns were overthrown on board the Essex, and the crews of others shot away. The survivors manned the guns that were left. One gun was thus three times manned, losing fifteen men in the action. In this extremity, Porter de- termined to run his vessel on shore, and destroy her rather than be cap- tured, and had nearly succeeded in doing so, when a change of wind drove him again upon "the dreadful raking fire " of the Phoebe. Porter still hoped to board. In the midst of this scene of carnage, the brave Lieutenant Downes, of the Essex Junior, made his way through the fire to Captain Porter to receive his orders; but nothing could be done, and he returned to his own ship, carrying away in his boat several wounded, and leaving three of his crew to make room for them. " The slaugh- ter on board my ship," continues Por- ter, "had now become horrible, the enemy raking us, and we unable to bring a gun to bear." But even yet the resources of this skilful mariner were not exhausted. Ordering a hawser to be bent to the sheet-anchor, he let it go, and thus brought the head of the vessel around, and. gained opportunity for another broadside. The breaking of the hawser put an end to this last chance of annoying the enemy. The Essex, moreover, was on fire in several places, the flames bursting up each hatchway and approaching the mag- azine. A large quantity of powder exploded below. The boats were de- stroyed. In mercy to his men, Captain Porter directed those who could swim to jump overboard, and if possible gain the shore, about three-quarters of a mile distant. Most remained with him to defend the ship to the last. It was, indeed, the last moment when he surrendered. There was but one officer left to advise with him. The rest were dead or horribly wounded; and as with the officers, so with the men. The flag was struck at twenty minutes past six after an action of about two hours am a half. More than one-half of hei entire crew were killed, wounded or missing. The combat was witnessed by thousands who covered the sur- rounding hills. Such was the termina- tion of Captain Porter's memorable cruise in the Pacific, ending, indeed, in disaster, but leaving a wonderful im- pression of the resources of a single small ship when directed by a com- manding will and intellect. Captain Porter was well treated by his captor and friends at Valparaiso, though the government had shown itself not well affected towards him. In the disposition which was made of the prisoners, it was arranged they should be sent home for exchange in the Essex Junior, as a cartel. The lat- ter reached the American coast in safety, when she was boarded off New York by a .British vessel, and the pass- port of Captain Hillyer disputed. The next morning, while the cartel was thus detained, Porter, true to the spirit 28 DAVID PORTER. of adventure with which he had set out, having on the first detention de- clared himself a prisoner no longer on parole, left the cartel off the shore of Long Island to make his escape in a boat. The movement was observed, but not in time, and Porter, under cover of a friendly fog, after some sixty miles rowing and sailing reached the hospi- table village of Babylon, whence he passed to a triumphant reception at New York. The conclusion of the war found Captain Porter on the eve of taking command of a squadron of small ves- sels, got together for the annoyance of the enemy's commerce in the West Indies. Peace put an end to this scheme. In the reorganization of the navy which ensued, he was appointed, with Commodores Rodgers and Hull, one of the three officers of the board of navy commissioners, and continued in the execution of its important duties till 1823, when he was ordered to the command of an expedition fitted out by government to suppress the syste- matic piracy, which had for some time prevailed in the Gulf of Mexico. His squadron consisted of a steam galliott, eight small schooners, and five barges. Having his centre of operations at Thompson's Island, now Key West, in a few months, so effective was his con- duct of the force, he had broken up the whole piratical system on the coasts of St. Domingo and Cuba. The following year, 1824, an incident oc- curred which was the occasion of his recall. A robbery of American pro- perty took place on the island of St. Thomas, when the goods were car- ried by the pirates into the port of Foxardo, in Porto Rico, an island of a bad reputation for its countenance to piracy and privateering. Lieutenant Piatt, one of Commodore Porter's offi- cers, undertook to aid in the recovery of the property. He accordingly pre- sented himself with his vessel, the Beagle, at the port, was roughly re- ceived by the authorities, and even arrested and put under guard. Smart- ing with this indignity as he left the" port, he met Commodore Porter, in the John Adams, coming in, and narrated his grievances. The latter determined to resent the affair at once as a gross insult to the flag. Entering the har- bor with the Beagle and Grampus, and the boats of the Adams, he sent a mes- sage to the alcalde of the town de- manding satisfaction, and threatening reprisals in case it should be refused. One hour was given for the decision. A shore battery, meanwhile, about to fire upon the party, was silenced by a detachment of seamen and marines, when Porter landed with two hundred men, and marched against the town. An undefended battery was passed on the road, and a messenger sent forward for negotiation; when the Spaniards, thinking discretion the better part of valur, agreed to present the required explanation and apology. Commodore Porter then retired with his party. For this prompt vindication of the honor of his country, as he thought it, he was immediately recalled by his government, tried by a court-martial for transgressing his orders, and sen- tenced to suspension from the service for six months. The decree deeply DAVID PORTER. 29 wounded the spirit of the patriot who had served his country in so many engagements, who, in the words of his defence, " had consumed the flower of his years, and the vigor of his life in arduous and, as he hoped, in acceptable services; who had looked for approba- tion, if not honor, as his reward for an unstinted exposure to labors, priva- tions, and dangers ; so much the more disinterested, as, however beneficial to his country and to mankind, it pro- mised few of the personal gratifications which may be laudably sought in the renown of more striking and brilliant achievements." The recollection of these things should have made the sen- tence of Porter a light one. Senator Benton, who watched the proceedings of the trial, which lie in the dust of our libraries, recorded in a bulky octavo, says, that he was " hardly dealt with." The sentence cost the navy one of its most honored members. Commodore Porter resigned, left the country, and entered the service of the Mexican government to take charge of her newly formed naval department. He remained in that country till General Jackson became President of the United States, in 1829, when he was offered the restoration of his place in the navy. He refused it on account of the old unreversed censure, but ac- cepted the post of Consul General at Algiers. The French occupation of the country found him in possession of the office, when he was appointed Charge* d'Affaires at Constantinople. The ap- pointment was subsequently enlarged to that ol Resident Minister. It was ii.—4 the period of Sultan Mahmoud, the great Turkish reformer, of whose cha- racter and acts Commodore Porter, as his published letters bear witness, was a most careful and intelligent observer. This correspondence, origi- nally addressed to a friend in New York, without view to publication, was given to the world in 1835, with the title, " Constantinople and its Environs, in a series of letters, exhibiting the actual state of the manners, customs, and habits of the Turks, Armenians, Jews and Greeks, as modified by the policy of Sultan Mahmoud, by an Ame- rican, long resident at Constantinople." While in Turkey, Commodore Portei negotiated several important treaties. He continued to hold his position as minister till his death, which came, after a gradual decline, at Pera, a sub urb of Constantinople, the twenty- eighth of March, 1843, at the age of sixty-three. His remains were brought home in the ship of war, Truxton, and interred in the grounds of the Naval Asylum, near Philadelphia. The late Senator Benton, who has given an animated sketch of his career, thus notices the kindly traits of the man: " Humanity was a ruling feature in his character, and of this he gave constant proof—humane to the enemy, as well as to his own people.' Of his numerous captures, he never made one by bloodshed when milder means could prevail; always preferring, by his superior seamanship, to place them in predicaments which coerced sur- render." Patriotism was a part of his soul JOHN JACOB ASTOR. This eminent merchant, to whose liberality the city of New York, and incidentally the whole country, is in- debted for the princely foundation of the free public library bearing his name, came like his contemporary Girard of Philadelphia, an adventurer in youth from the old world to the new. There is, to a certain extent, a curious parallelism between the two men. They were alike in some points of character, and in minor habits. Early poverty was the lot of each. Both were borne by industry, self de- nial, sagacity, and a resolute will, to vast fortunes. They were alike men of large commercial views and grand resources. Each was favored in beinof carried onward with the development of the country, and the rising welfare of a great city. It has been their com- mon felicity to perpetuate their names with a grateful posterity by beneficent institutions erected by their bounty. The Girard College and the Astor Li- brary are the ornaments of Phila- delphia and New York. In other respects the parallel would fail. Gi- rard lived an unsocial, unsympathizing life, intent only on the toil and profit which had become necessities of his being His existence was without the grace and ameliorating influences of 80 the eminent friendships which softened and refined the career of Mr. Astor; nor had he those family interests and affections which might have done so much to increase his happiness while living and perpetuate his fortunes and beneficence when departed. John Jacob Astor was born in the village of Waldorf, .near Heidelberg, in the Grand Duchy of Baden, in Ger- many, July 17, 1763. His parents were of the laboring peasant class, who brought up their family of four sons, of whom the subject of this sketch was the youngest, to habits of industry and virtue. John Jacob remembered through life the lessons which he had been taught on the farm in childhood, of early rising and simple religious reading. There was enterprise and in- telligence in the race, for we find two of his brothers emigrants to England and America for the sake of bettering; their fortunes, before he joined them on the same quest. The course of tra- vel in the last century, it should be remembered, differed greatly from the easy pathway opened at present. It argued then some force of character to break the barrier which hemmed in the life of a simple German peasant, fettered by his boundaries and associa- tions. The young Astor seems early �699999 JOHN JACOB ASTOR. 31 to have felt, with something of a pre- science of his coming fortunes, that there was a prosperous career before him in the world, and that he had but to go forth to enter upon it. At any 'rate, at the age of sixteen he starts on foot, " without waiting for other outfit than the clothes he wore," to proceed to the coast of Holland, with the de- sign of reaching his oldest brother, in England, who had some footing in London as a musical instrument maker, and who required his assistance in the business. He found a Dutch smack which conveyed him across the Chan- nel to the metropolis, where he met with his brother and at once engaged eagerly in his occupation. Their resi- dence, within the sound of Bow Bells, af- forded a hint to early rising which these industrious Germans did not neglect. " Mr. Astor's own account of this period of his youth," we are told in a biogra- phical sketch by one who knew him well, " is that he never failed to rise and dress when the clock struck four, which gave him an hour to prepare for his daily occupation, and much of this hour was regularly devoted to reading the Bible and the Lutheran prayer- book, then the only books in his library." 1 He had been for several years thus connected with his brother, when the conclusion of peace with the United States opened America once more to the enterprise of the old world, and perhaps led by the example of another older brother already in the country, he 1 Sketch of Mr. Astor in Emerson's United States Mag- azine for October, 1855. embarked, in 1783, for that region. He carried with him a venture made up by his brother, of some hundred dollars' worth of musical instruments. The win- try passage to Baltimore was a long one —he was all the while from November to the following March on shipboard, at sea, and delayed by the ice in the Chesapeake—but it was not altogether unprofitable, for an acquaintance which he made on the way led him on the high road of his subsequent fortunes. This was a German dealer in furs with whom he travelled to New York, and who advised him to invest the proceeds of his venture in that prime article of American traffic, as one which would find a ready market in London. He followed the suggestion, effected the sale and purchase, and crossing the At- lantic with his new stock, made, as was predicted, a profitable trade. This ap- pears to have been his first mercantile operation of consequence. It drew his attention to a branch of traffic which afterwards became aighly productive in his hands, and which he conducted with a widely extended, liberal enter- prise. In 1784, after a residence of some months in London, which he de- voted to the study of the European methods of the fur trade, he returned to America, prepared, by arrangements with his brother, to continue the traffic. " At that time," says his biographer already cited, " he had just completed his twenty-first year; he was beginning life in a foreign land, without money capital, without powerful connections, and without established credit; but he possessed powers and qualities, and had formed habits which made him 32 JOHN JACOB ASTOR. independent of capital, connections and credit—a clear head, sound judgment, quick perception, a mind of the most comprehensive grasp, and a masterly business talent. To these high intel- lectual powers were joined great moral force of character, a resolute will, great self-reliance, firmness in pronouncing the unyielding No, when requisite, the strict integrity that inspires confidence, and the patient perseverance that in- sures success. Besides which he had the groundwork and guaranty of pros- perity in his habits of life—economy, self denial, industry, love of labor, a proper pride in his business, punctual- ity in his engagements, and above all, he careful avoiding of the thraldom of debt. It is to these properties that we must look for the elements of Mr. Astor's extraordinary prosperity, and not to any accident of birth or fortune, or any external circumstances of condi- tion ; his only advantages of that kind were his fine personal appearance, his noble head, his oracular brow, the stamp of higher intelligence upon his every feature, his commanding, and, when he chose, winning address. His reliance was upon himself in business, as well as in everything else, and he so managed his affairs as to make his rap- idly accumulating capital sufficient for its constant extension." The two great elements of success with Astor, as with Girard, were his industry, combined with sound judg- ment and his self-reliance. Each planned his operations with consum- mate ability, and it was a rule, at least with the Frenchman, that whatever orders he gave should be executed to I the letter, come what would of it. In this way he projected his individuality in different regions of the world, in his extended commercial operations, and his powerful will was acting in many places with the same energy as if he were present; for it was his custom boldly to carry out his first decisions. We shall see Astor issuing his com- mands in his great enterprise with marvellous sagacity. In the meantime he is patiently, assiduously building up his fortune in the pursuit of the fur trade, at the outset working with his own hands, and performing his jour- neys to the distant frontiers of the country bordering on Canada and the lakes to traffic with the Indians and collect the skins for his merchandise. By thrift and economy, and the suc- cessful management of his profitable trade, he became gradually wealthy, and began to employ his own vessels in his shipments, making his profit on both the outward and return cargo. The new openings for trade with Cana- da by the provisions of the Jay treaty of 1794, were turned to account by him. By the year 1800 he had thus become possessed of a fortune of a quarter of a million of dollars. Taking a comprehensive view of the traffic in furs, he was anxious to give his operations strength and importance by national corporate authority. Some organization he thought was needed to cope with the great British companies which still held the control of the trade with the Indians, on the great western frontier. He consequently became in communication with the United States government on the subject, and in 1809 JOHN JACOB ASTOR. 33 obtained from the legislature of the State of New York a charter incorpor- ating the " American Fur Company," with a capital of a million of dollars, which was furnished by himself. " He in fact," says Irving, " constituted the company; for though he had a board of directors, they were merely nominal; the whole business was conducted on his plans and with his resources, but he preferred to do so under the impos- ing and formidable aspect of a corpora- tion, rather than in his individual name, and his policy was sagacious and effective." * To strengthen his position he purchased from the British proprie- tors the interests of the Mackinaw com- pany of traders, and merged both that and his own organization into a new association called the Southwest Com- pany. The traffic of the traders up to this time had been mainly confined to the regions bordering on the great lakes; it was Mr. Astor's ambition greatly to enlarge this area by extending his operations to the shores of the Pacific, by means of a line of posts stretching along the Missouri on the east, and the Columbia on the west of the Rocky mountains, with an important depot at the mouth of the latter river, that would open a ready means of direct exchange with China, which afforded the best market for the furs to be collect- ed. This of course involved an extensive shipping interest to carry on the trade upon the Pacific, and to conduct the return cargoes from the East. The history of Mr. Astor's great effort in 1 Astoria, p. SO this direction is written in the most agreeable volume of adventure by Washington Irving, entitled " Astoria." Nor was it merely as a trading spec- ulation that this great enterprise was projected, and in fact accomplished. " Indeed, it is due to him to say," re- marks Mr. Irving, "that he was not actuated by mere motives of indivi- dual profit. He was already wealthy beyond the ordinary desires of man, but he now aspired to that honorable fame which is awarded to men of simi- lar scope of mind, who, by their great commercial enterprises, have enriched nations, peopled wildernesses, and ex- tended the bounds of empire. He con sidered his projected establishment at the mouth of the Columbia as the em- porium to an immense commerce ; as a colony that would form the germ of a wide civilization; that would, in fact, carry the American population across the Rocky Mountains, and spread it along the shores of the Pacific, as it already animated the shores of the At- lantic." This view of the enterprise was shared by the government, and by Mr. Jefferson, always an intelligent ap- preciator of the development of the country. In the summer of 1810, articles of agreement were entered into by Mr. Astor and his associates, chiefly drawn from men who had been engaged in the British fur trade, constituting themselves the " Pacific Fur Company," with liberal provisions on the part of the projector, who was to supply the large capital required for the success of the undertaking. A twofold expedi- tion was at once organized, by sea a ad 31 JOHN JACOB ASTOR. land. A ship, well furnished, and equipped with something of a military armament, was provided to make the voyage by the way of Cape Horn to the Pacific, and take possession of the station at the mouth of the Columbia. This vessel, named the Tonquin, was commanded by Lieutenant Jonathan Thorn, of the United States navy, a man of courage and resolution, and a martinet in discipline, who had served in the Tripolitan war; and with him sailed as companions the leading Cana- dian partners of the enterprise, one of whom was the special representative of Mr. Astor in the management of the business. The captain, of course, had the supreme command of the voyage. Various voyageurs and trappers made up the ship's company. For the hu- mors and petty vexations of the jour- ney by sea, the pertinaciously asserted authority of the commander, and the careless disposition to enjoyment of his passengers frequently bringing the two parties into conflict, we must refer to the picturesque pages of Mr. Irving, where every development of character is eagerly worked into the cunning fabric of his instructive and ever-de- lightful narrative. Suffice it to say that the party set sail from New York in September, 1810, escorted to sea, out of fear of hostile cruisers in that period of incipient war, by the frigate Consti- tution ; that they reached the Sandwich Islands in safety in February, and the following month were landed, though not without hazard, and suffering some severe losses, within the mouth of the Columbia. Eight men were drowned from boats in the surf, in attempts to cross the bar of the river. After the ship had reached a place of safety, her oUlcers chose a place for a settlement and the establishment of a fort, to which they gave the name Astoria, and opened communication with the neigh- boring Indians. The Tonquin then, as previously arranged, continued her voyage along the coast in a northerly direction to Vancouver's Island. But she had not been long away when word was brought by the Indians to the little colony she had left behind, of her total loss, with her crew, under circumstances of fearful interest. Cap- tain Thorn, on making a landing and 7 O O opening trade with the natives, had become disgusted with their subter fuges and chicanery, and in a fit of pas- sion driven some of their leading men from the vessel. They returned, appa- rently unarmed, and, contrary to the express orders of Mr. Astor before starting, were carelessly admitted in great numbers. The gallant comman- der estimated too lightly his savage foe. They procured knives in ex- change for the furs which they brought with them, on the very deck of his vessel, and turned upon her unsuspect- ing crew, murdering the captain and his chief officer. They were however arrested in their fiendish work for the moment by the remnant of the ship's company, who had gained fire-arms from below. These few men, foresee- ing their fate if they remained, aban doned the ship in a boat, with the in tention of making their way to Astoria. When the savages returned to the ves sel and crowded her decks, they ex pected an easy prey, for but one of her / JOHN JACO :>ld crew was to be seen—a wounded man who had refused to depart with his companions. He was gloomily bent on a terrible revenge. Waiting till the Indians thronged the vessel, he lighted a match below, fired the maga- zine, and involved the whole in one common destruction. This occurred in the summer of 1811. Meanwhile the overland party, which was to survey the line of the trading- posts and effect a junction with their companions on the Pacific, led by Mr. Wilson Price Hunt, upon whom Mr. Astor placed the greatest reliance for the ultimate conduct of his colony, was making its toilsome way by the line of the Missouri and the passes of the Rocky Mountains. This expedition, which numbered many intelligent men, left Montreal, the starting-point of their wanderings, in July, 1810, and did not reach Astoria till February, 1812. They had made a roundabout journey from St. Louis of upwards of thirty-five hundred miles. They found on their arrival that some progress was made with the establishment in opening trading-posts and carrying on traffic with the Indians, though the fortunes of the colony were by no means as- sured. While these journeyings and voy- agings were going on, Mr. Astor, in New York, intent upon his grand scheme, in March, 1811, dispatched a confidential agent to St. Petersburg to accomplish a negotiation with the northern Russian trading settlements on the Pacific, which was effected, and in the autumn of the same year, ignor- ant of the fate of the first, he sent a >B ASTOR. 35 second vessel, the Beaver, with sup- plies and reinforcements of men, to As- toria. In the following May this vessel safely reached her destination, and in- fused new life into the little company Had Mr. Astor's directions been com plied with, all might have gone well with the colony, wealth would have poured into his coffers, and an import- ant national settlement been effected at an early day on the Pacific. His plans were in every instance well taken, giv- ing unity to a complicated system of action reaching across an unexplored continent, including a distant European negotiation in their grasp, and extend- ing over the great waters of the globe. A chain of trading-posts threading the defiles of the Rocky Mountains, a great emporium on the Pacific, coasting voy- ages securing the trade of that ocean, the sale of the furs collected in China, and a return to America with the rich and profitable products of the East— this was the simple outline of the gigantic undertaking. It was really a vast, expanded enterprise, worthy the comprehensive mind of a great mer- chant of any time. Much more of cour- age, of adventurous foresight, did it require when it was a pioneer work in a comparatively unknown country, and moreover beset by the gravest interna- tional difficulties. All early explora- tions may be put down as extremely hazardous and costly—seldom resulting in profit to their first projectors. This in particular proved, chiefly through the inefficiency of the agents and the neglect of Government, when the crisis arrived, a most disastrous undertak- ing. 3fi JOHN JACOB ASTOR. The supply ship, Beaver, in pursu- ance of instructions, continued her voyage to the Russian Possessions, car- rying with \er Mr. Hunt, the leading man of tne colony, with the expecta- tion of*an early return to the place. Unhappily, the vessel standing in need of some repairs, her course, after visit- ing New Archangel, was directed to the Sandwich Islands, whence she proceeded to China without return- ing to Astoria, leaving Mr. Hunt at her stopping-place to wait for Mr. Astor's next supply ship to carry him to his post of duty. While tarry- ing for this opportunity, word reached him of the breaking out of the war between the United States and Great Britain. He saw at once the peril of Astoria, and chartering a vessel at a high price, proceeded promptly to the spot—to find the partners of the enter- prise, who were strongly tinctured with British interests, McDougal, their head, never having lost a hankering for his old Canadian allegiance, despond- ent and on the eve of abandoning the enterprise. In fact an arrangement was on foot, which was afterwards consum- mated, to sell out the whole affair to the Northwest Company, a British association, which had pushed its agen- cies across the mountains, maintaining a rival attitude to the American enter- prise. Mr. Astor's British partners were for the sale or virtual surrender, the Americans of the company opposed the transfer; but the former, armed with the threats of naval hostilities, which it was known were impending, carried the day. Shortly after, in De- cember, 1813, the port of Astoria was formally taken possession of by the commander of a British cruiser. Thus was defeated a great enterprise which partook rather of a national than a private commercial character. Carried on by the will and resources of a single man, it was worthy to have been the project of the State itself. That something of enthusiasm of an elevated character entered into the plans of Mr. Astor, we have the testi- mony of a letter written by him to his agent, Mr. Hunt, on occasion of send- ing forth a third ship with supplies. " Were I on the spot," he wrote, allud- ing to the hostile machinations of the Northwest Company, "and had the management of affairs, I would defy them all; but, as it is, everything de- pends on you, and your friends about you. Our enterprise is grand and de- serves success, and I hope in God it will meet it. If my object was merely gain of money, I should say, think whether it is best to save what we .can, and abandon the place; but the very idea is like a dagger to my heart."* He doubtless bore the failure of his expectations with equanimity, though he could not be insensible to the disap- pointment. It was his calculation, it is related, that the enterprise would be a bill of expense for ten years, and an uncertain source of profit for anothei like period, when, having been fully established, it could produce a net rev- enue of a million dollars a year. Of his coolness under his losses, a story is told by Mr. Irving of his conduct on hearing of the loss of the Tonquin. 1 Irvine's Astoria, p. 432. JOHN JACOB ASTOR. 37 "The very same evening he appeared at the theatre with his usual serenity of countenance. A friend, who knew the disastrous intelligence he had re- ceived, expressed his astonishment that he could have calmness of spirit suffi- cient for such a scene of light amuse- ment. ■ What would you have me do V was his characteristic reply; 'would you have me stay at home and weep for what I cannot help ?'" At the conclusion of the war, Asto- ria, by the terms of the treaty, again fell to the United States, though the final adjustment of the territorial rights of the region was delayed for a longer period. Had the Government been willing to render the assistance of mili- tary protection, Mr. Astor would have recovered his undertaking. As it was, he abandoned the effort, content to wait the time when the country should awake to the importance of a region, the value of which he had formed a due estimate of in an early period of his career. The present town of Asto- ria, though far surpassed by other set- tlements of Oregon, bears witness, in its name, to the daring enterprise of its original founder. This was Mr. Astor's last great em- ployment of his energy and capital in the fur trade. Henceforth, his productive investments in real estate in New York, and elsewhere in the country, employed most of his attention, especially in his latter years, when his wealth increased rapidly with the growth of the city. " Eveiy year," says his biog- rapher already cited, "was adding to his fortune—at first, almost impercepti- bly, but, as the mass, rolled on, it n— 5 gathered up upon a greater surface, and increased more rapidly. Few very great fortunes were ever acquired more in accordance with the laws of aggre- gation than Mr. Astor's; but a small portion of it was added by accident or lucky hits, or great speculations of any kind. He was its sole and systematic architect, and constructed the edffice on the best foundations and in the fairest proportions."1 At the time of his death, which occurred in the city of New York, on the 29th of March, 1848, his property was estimated as the largest which had been accumulated in America, exceeding by some mil- lions that of Girard. By the terms of his will special pro- vision was made, in a bequest of four hundred thousand dollars, for the erec- tion and endowment of a free public library—the institution, in the city of New York, which, thus supported by his liberality, bears the name of the Astor Library. It was a design of his latter years, which he would doubtless have carried out in his lifetime had he not been pressed by accumulated busi- ness and growing infirmities. He had, in considering the project, the valuable assistance of friends who knew well the importance of the object and the way it should be carried out; for it was Mr. Astor's good fortune to possess, in the acquaintance of men like Wash- ington Irving, Dr. Cogswell, Mr. Hal- leck, Albert Gallatin and others, the best stimulus to his powerful intellect. He took delight in their society, and the Astor Library may be considered, 1 United States Magazine. 38 JOHN JACOB ASTOR. in one light, a monument of this inti- macy. "Desiring to render a public benefit to the city of New York, and to contribute to the advancement of useful knowledge, and the general good of society," is the language of his will, in the preamble of the bequest; and cer- tainly, as the event has already proved, he could not have secured these ob- jects in any more welcome way. The library thus founded, and its original dimensions doubled by the continued liberality of his son, has within a very few years taken its place, not only at the head of similar institutions in the city, but in the country—a result owing to the fidelity with which the trust has been carried out, and especially to the devoted and disinterested services of its librarian or superintendent, Dr. Jo- seph G. Cogswell, whose appointment to" the control of the work was made according to the expressed wish of the testator. A number of years before Mr. Astor's death, Dr. Cogswell was employed in bibliographical studies preparatory to the work, forming a highly valuable collection of books in this department, which he has since presented to the library. This, rather than the thousand volumes purchased during the lifetime of l\tr. Astor, was the real foundation of the library. When the work was fairly begun to be carried out, it was on this basis of preparation rapidly extended in the most satisfactory manner. Most public libraries in their origin are chance med- leys, the aggregate of various acci- dental purchases or donations. Not so this. Minerva-like, it started into being in full panoply, each division being duly considered and fairly pro- vided for. It is thus the most symmet- rical library in the country; its wealth being duly apportioned to each section of literature and science. If any pre- ference is shown, it is a general one for the more valuable and less accessible costly European works of original au- thority, the great standards of know- ledge, whence the more popular manuals are drawn. An American author en- gaged in the composition of a work well calculated to prove the resources of a large library, Mr. Parke Godwin, in the preface to his history of France, records his acknowledgments with the remark, that the country possesses, at last, one library where a student may apply that comprehensive test, the veri- fication of the quotations of Gibbon. 991545 71 JAMES KENT. This eminent jurist, whose services on the bench, no less than his important contributions to the literature of his profession, have secured him the grati- tude of his countrymen, presents a pleas- ing subject for biography. It is true there \s little of incident to relate, and of what might be gathered we have but scanty materials, in the'absence of fhe promised family memoirs. But in all that is known and remembered of Kent, one impression is predominant: that of a man of singular simplicity and purity of character—worthy, in- deed, to rank in these respects, as well as in his legal' character, with his dis- tinguished contemporaries, Chief Jus- tice Marshall and Justice Story. James Kent was born in the town of Fredericks, Putnam County, State of New York, among the Highlands of the Huds'on, near the borders of Connecticut, on the thirty-first of July, 1763. His grandfather, the Rev. Eli- sha Kent, a well known and esteemed clergyman of Connecticut, had removed to the region in 1740, and resided there till his death. His father, Moss Kent, was bred to the law and prac- tised the profession, which divided his attention, at the time of the birth of his son, with the farm on the banks of the Croton, where he resided. The influences of nature in this beautiful spot were not likely to be lost upon the heart of a sensitive child. In his later years he dwelt upon those associ- ations of his youth in his conversation with his intimate friends. A pleasing instance of these recollections has been preserved by his friend and eulogist, the late Judge John Duer, who was called upon to discharge a debt to his memory in the delivery of a discourse on his life, character and public ser- vices, before the judiciary and bar of the city and State of New York. In this interesting tribute the follo.wing passage occurs. The home, in the city of New York, of Chancellor Kent, we should premise, during his last years was on Union Park, where a fountain fed by his native stream, the Croton, which had been brought to pour its life-giving refreshment through the great city, leaped before his eyes. "Several times," says Judge Duer, " within the last three years of his life, when the fountain that adorns the park in front of his late residence was in its fullest action, and the waters of his native river, as if instinct with life and voluntary motion, rose in strength and majesty before him, several times have I known him approach the windows of his library in which we were then sit 8y 40 JAMES KENT. ting, and there break forth into warm expressions of admiration and delight. It was evident that the spectacle filled his mind with the most agreeable and varied emotions; for while it recalled, as he said, the quiet scenes and simple pleasures of his youth, it reminded him of the vast progress that his country had since made in the noblest arts and truest enjoyments of social and civilized life. It was evident at such times that his boyhood and youth, his manhood and age, were all present to his mind and memory; and it was his high pri- vilege—such had been the.course of his life—it was his high privilege that when thus recalled, he could dwell with feelings of unmingled satisfaction and devout thoughtfulness on each period of his existence. It is not sur- prising that at such times a 'serene light—the serene light of a serious and chastened joy—spread over his venera- ble features; for it was evident that his thoughts and affections rose in grateful adoration to the Author of his being, as the source and fountain of all the blessings—the many great and peculiar blessings—that throughout the progress and in each stage of his- life, it had been his lot to enjoy." Earnest and ample provision was made by the father for the education of his son. He was placed at the age of five at an English school at Norwalk, Con- necticut, where he lived with his mater- nal grandfather, a physician. At nine he was transferred to Pawling's, in Dutchess County, to a school where he received some instruction in Latin, which was subsequently improved by the Rev. Ebenezer Baldwin, who kept a Latin school at Danbury, and he had other special instructors by whom he was qualified for admission to Yale College, the freshman class of which he entered in 1777. Thus carefully nurtured with that moral as well as in- tellectual preparation of the olden time in which clergymen, as in this case, so frequently bore a part—a youth of in genuous disposition and studious hab- its, he was well adapted to run his new race with vigor. His college course, however, fell upon the troubled.scenes of the Revolution, and the British troops taking possession of New Ha- ven in his sophomore year, the college was for a while necessarily broken up. Falling in, during this intervaj of forced leisure, for the first time— he was then only sixteen—with a copy of Blackstone's Commentaries, he seized upon this masterly introduc- tion to legal science with avidity ; his genius was thus early revealed to him- self, and he resolved to devote himself to the profession of the law. Return- ing to college when its exercises were resumed, he received his degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1781, and immedi- ately entered the office of Egbert Ben- son, at Poughkeepsie. This eminent lawyer, the friend of Washington, Jay and Hamilton, an enlightened patriot of the Revolutionary and constitutional era, then held the office of Attorney General of the State, and his influence and example were well calculated to strengthen the manly instincts of his pupil. Kent was admitted to the bar in 1785, and shortly after began practice with Mr. Gilbert Livingston, at the JAMES KENT. 41 same time taking to himself a wife, Miss Elizabeth Bailey, who became the sharer of his rising fortunes, and the delight and protection of his long career of successful exertion. Before the latter, however, could be said to be fairly entered upon, there was the usual period of discipline and probation com- mon to the young lawyer to be encoun- tered. Kent met it with all cheerful- ness and diligence. The largest part, if not always the most important, of a man's education, is the instruction which he gives himself. This was per- haps truer in the early days of Kent than in our own. Though * he had the honor of a diploma from Yale, he was but meagrely instructed in the Greek and Latin, classics, and he himself was perfectly aware of the deficiency.. He had read in these languages, in his col- legiate course, only the Greek Testa- ment, and limited portions of Virgil, Horace and Cicero. To make amends, and give himself a good working knowledge of the tongues, he divided his day systematically, and managed to secure four hours for the purpose before breakfast. Two of these he gave to Greek,«t,nd two to Latin. The midday was assigned to the law, and two hours of the afternoon were given to the French. He read Homer, Xeno- phon and Qemosthenes, we are told, with great delight. To miscellaneous reading, if we may apply so general, vague, and unsatisfactory a term to his excellent special acquisitions, he was always devoted. He was an earnest student of the poetry of England, and her best prose literature, and an ardent devourer of books of travel. Kent came upon the stage at a time well qualified to develop a great con- stitutional lawyer; for the period of his legal career embraced the origin and growth of the Constitution itself. and his early intimacies were with men who understood well its principles, and were sharers in its formation. He attended the debates at Poughkeepsie of the convention which sat upon its adoption, and listened to the brilliant arguments of Hamilton. The princi- ples of the Federalist we may pre- sume that he studied with earnestness, while he watched the development of party interests through the country. " He became and declared himself a federalist, and this name (continues Judge Duer) as expressing most clearly and fully the true nature of his politi- cal creed, he gloried throughout his life to retain and avow." His friend- ship for Hamilton was both a cause and consequence of these convictions, and it was never interrupted. It was by Hamilton's advice, we are told, that he first directed his attention to his profitable study of the French Jurists. We find him now engaging in public life. He was twice elected a member of the State Assembly, in 1790 and 1792, and was recognize.d as a promi- nent leader of the federal party. His course on the disputed election for governor, when George Clinton was maintained in office over his rival, Jay, who it was alleged had the majority vote of the State, a division of opinion resulting from the destruction of the votes of .a county, secured to him the warm support of the disappointed can- didate. To the " discriminating iud^ 42 JAMES KENT. ment and steady friendship of John Jay he owed," says Judge Duer, " his elevation to nearly all the offices that he subsequently held." In 1793 he w^as nominated to Con- gress in Dutchess County, but, owing to a change in the local politics, lost his election—a result which was immedi- ately followed by his removal to New York. Here he encountered some diffi- culty in his straitened fortunes; but if practice was slow in coming, his legal abilities were appreciated by the dis- cerning. The trustees of Columbia College appointed him within the year professor of law in that institution, and we find him in November, 1794, com- mencing his course with an Introduc- tory of signal ability. This was pub- lished by the trustees, and in the course of a year he issued in a volume three " Dissertations " preliminary to his course on the common law, embrac- ing the discussion of important topics of the constitutional history of the United States, and of the law of nations. The date of the introductory lecture gave the orator a special ground of ap- peal for the importance of his theme. It will mark, also, the large period over which the labors of Kent were extend- ed. In 1794 Europe was in agitation with problems which the intelligence and foresight of American patriotism had already solved, and that solution of the novel questions was receiving due attention abroad. * How important then that the youth of America should be instructed in their privileges at home, especially as the whole guardian- ship of the public welfare was intrusted without reserve to the people. The orator pointed to law as the first tutor of liberty to the founders of the State, and drew the inference that the rudi- ments of a legal and senatorial educa- tion in our country, should be drawn from our own history and constitutions. He then passed to the assertion of the value of courts of justice as " the pro- per and intended guardians of our limited constitutions against the fac- tions and encroachments of the legisla- tive body," as if in earnest of the im- portant aid he was to render this great cause in his subsequent career. He was but thirty, it should be remem- bered when he accepted the professor- ship of which this address was the first fruits. The three dissertations treated of tjie theory, history and duties of civil government; the history of the American Union and the law of nations. The delivery of these and other lectures in the course, and the publication of part of them, though neither was so successful as to be continued at the time, laid the foundation of the author's reputation. Both were to be resumed afterwards—the college lectures and the commentaries. Happily th* origin- ator lived himself to reap the fruit of his early labors.. In the meantime, in February, 1796, Kent received a welcome addition to his means in the appointment, by Gov- ernor Jay, of Master in Chancery, an office then lucrative, and he was the same year chosen a member of the New York legislature by a city constituency. An address which he delivered before the State Society for the Promotion of Agriculture, Arts and Manufactures, at JAMES KENT. 43 its anniversary in New York, also gave him an opportunity of making the pub- lic acquainted with his enlightened perceptions of the material welfare of the country. To his office of Master in Chancery was joined the following year that of recorder of the city, and from the two he derived a considerable income. In 1798 he was still further befriended by Jay in the appointment of junior judge of the Supreme Court, and though it was at some' cost of his emoluments in relinquishing the posts which he held, it was with remarkable discretion and self-knowledge that he accepted the new position. He now changed his residence to Poughkeepsie, and subsequently to Albany, which continued his home till 1823, nearly a quarter of a century. The reforms which he introduced into the practice of his court were of eminent service to the public, and have gained him the highest eulogies of the bar. Before his day there had been no written opinions or any standard re- ports of decisions. He began by writ- ing out his opinions in all reserved cases, and brought to his work such acumen, and the results of such learned industry that his brethren on the bench were compelled to follow his example. In this he brought to bear his reading. of the civil law and its commentators, in the various questions arising on per- sonal contracts and commercial and maritime affairs. In 1804 he was raised to the office of chief justice of the court, and continued to preside over its deliberations till his appointment as Chancellor of the State in 1814. Of his career as judge we have seve- ral interesting notices from a high legal authority. On passing through New York, in 1805, the late Justice Story, then a rising young lawyer, was at- tracted to the Supreme Court at the City Hall, where he found Kent on the bench. He was struck with his youthful appearance, celerity and acute- ness, and noticed his " careless manner of sitting," which seemsd to him " to be the ease of a man who felt adequate to the exigencies of his station." Two years later, on a similar visit, he notices again "his singular plainness and promptitude." This early perception of Kent's ability was confirmed by Story's observation of his decisions and study of his legal writings. As time went on, the New York lawyer had no warmer admirer than the New England jurist. Both had points of personal as well as professional contact; in their amiability, capacity for friendship, and the purity and intensity of their domestic life, as well as in that taste for general culture which has always been an ornament if not a necessity to the higher members of the profession. They were always generous appreciat- ors of each other's labors, dividing the field of legal commentary with emula- tion and without envy. - Nothing can be more cordial than the friendly let- ters which passed between them as the new volumes of their writings ap- peared. What Kent had accomplished in the Supreme Court for the common law, he was destined to renew in the Court of Chancery. In a review of Johnson's Reports, in which his decisions are re- corded, written by Joseph Story for 44 JAMES KENT. the "North American Review," in 1820, he pays this tribute to the ser- vices of Chancellor Kent, his fellow- laborer in this great work. "He has been," says he, " long before the public in a judicial character, which he has sustained with increasing reputation— a reputation as pure as it is bright. His life has been devoted sedulously and earnestly to professional studies. His researches have been amidst the dust and the cobwebs of antiquated lore, pursued in the unfashionable pages of the Year Books, and Glan- ville and Fleta, and Britton, and the almost classical Bracton. He has dared to examine the abridgments of Brook and Fitzherbert and Statham. He has drawn deeply from the commercial law of foreign nations; the works of Straccha, and Roccus, and Valin, and Pothier, and Emerigon, are familiar to his thoughts and his writings. It re- quired," he adds, looking at the state of the chancery bar as it was before Kent's day, " such a man, with such a mind, at once liberal, comprehensive, exact and methodical, always reverenc- ing authorities, and bound by decisions; true to the spirit, yet more true to the letter of the law; pursuing principles with a severe and scrupulous logic, yet blending with them the most persua- sive equity;—it required such a man, with such a mind, to unfold the doc- trines of chancery in our country and to settle them upon immovable founda- tions." He 'so enlarged and improved the Chancery Court of New York that under his administration it may be said to have been a new creation. He was chancellor for but nine years, at the end of that time being compelled to resign the office by the arbitrary enactment which limited the period of service to the age of' sixty. Never could the irregular working of this pro- vision be more manifest than in his case. It found him in the very vigor of his powers, with twenty-five years yet before him, in which he was still further to illustrate his legal ability and wisdom, though not in the seat for which he was perhaps above all men qualified. Addresses were presented to him on his leaving office by the members of the bar at New York, Al- bany, and of the State at large at Uti- ca—all couched in the warmest terms of admiration of his judicial acumen, purity, and rare spirit of personal kind- ness. This very year of his retirement, when a vacancy on the bench of the Supreme Court of the United States occurred, Kent was spoken of for the appointment. It had' been offered by President Monroe to Mr. Smith Thomp- son, then the Secretary of the Navy, who for a time held his answer in sus- pense. During this interval Kent was brought forward, and his merits, spite of his difference in politics—he be- longed to the old federal party—were urged by William Wirt, then Attorney General, in a letter to the President. He claimed that the worth and moder- ation of Kent would silence even the uproar of party objection. " Kent," he wrote, " holds so lofty a stand every- where for almost matchless intellect and learning, as well as for spotless purity and high-minded honor and patriotism, that I firmly believe the nation at large would approve and ap- JAMES KENT. 45 plaud the appointment. It wrould sus- tain itself and soon put down the petty cavils which might at first assail it. . . . . He may have been decided in his political character, but I never heard that he was intolerant, or that there was anything like bitterness or persecution in his composition. His conversation and manners are indica- tive only of a simplicity almost infan- tile, and of the most perfect kindness and suavity of disposition." The Pre- sident, however, was not called to de- cide upon this warm-hearted appeal, Mr. Thompson having entered upon the office. The termination of his duties as chancellor led him to take up his resi- dence again in New York, with a view to giving lessons in the law, and prac- tising his profession. Columbia Col- lege again welcomed him to her courses of instruction, offering him the profes- sorship of law, which he accepted. In accordance with this new obligation he delivered, in 1824, a systematic course of lectures, out of which subsequently grew his Commentaries, embracing the more important topics of the latter, and some which are not treated of in that work. He repeated the lectures in 1825, and after that discontinued the active duties of his professorship, his time being taken up in chamber prac- tice and the preparation of his dis- courses for publication. These saw the light in a first volume in 1826, followed by the second and third in the two fol- lowing years, and the fourth in 1830. Successive editions appeared to the close of his life, each marked by care- ful revision. ii.—6 The "Commentaries on American Law," embrace the consideration of the law of nations, of the goverment and constitutional jurisprudence of the United States, of the various sources of the municipal law of the several States, as well of the civil as the com- mon law; the rights of persons, includ- ing the marriage relations, guardianship and corporations; the laws of personal property, with its various grounds of title, bailments, contracts, partnership, marine insurance, and other topics ; the law of real property, in its origin and subdivisions, and various limitations— a vast field, excluding only the laws of procedure and criminal practice; so skilfully handled as to become, to the American student, what the great work of Blackstone is to the jurisprudence of England, a clear, lucid, perspicuous map and guide. The " Commentaries " are eminently, as noticed by Judge Duer, a national work, " exhibiting not only the jurisprudence of the United States, as derived by their federal union, but the municipal law, written and unwritten, of each individual State, on all the subjects that the work em- braces. The principles and rules of the common law, applicable to each subject, are first stated and explained, and then all the changes that have been made in particular States by judicial decisions, or legislative enactment." Chancellor Kent varied his retire- ment and his legal consultations by an occasional appearance before the pub- lic, in the delivery of occasional ad- dresses. One of these, occupied with a narrative of the Revolutionary affairs of his State, with a special tribute to 46 JAMES KENT. the somewhat neglected merits of Philip Schuyler, was delivered by him at an anniversary meeting of the New York Historical Society, in 1828, of which he had been made President. He also delivered an address before the Phi Beta Kappa of Yale College, and in 1836 an oration, with reminis- cences of his early contemporaries, be- fore the Law Association of New York. In 1840, he prepared a course of Eng- lish reading for the use of the members of the Mercantile Library Association, which has been since reprinted, with additions by President Charles King, of Columbia College. The suggestions, the names of authors, with occasional comments, are made under the heads of History, Biography, Travels, Voy- ages, Belles-Lettres, Political and Moral Science, and the Natural Sciences. The work of Livy, Kent pronounces " upon the whole, the greatest and most com- prehensive historical composition of the ancients, replete with gravity, sincerity, and picturesque description;" Rollin, he pronounces prolix and tedious, and tells how he was glad to escape from it, at college, " sixty years ago," to Gold- smith's " brief and enchanting epitome of Roman history." He shows an es- pecial acquaintance with the modern Italian historians, dwelling upon Macchi- avelli, " the Tuscan Tacitus," Guicciar- dini, " the Florentine Thucydides," and Giannoni's " Civil History of the King. dom of Naples. He was attracted to these by their lessons of popular liberty and the tyranny of faction. In English history and literature, he shows the tastes of a gentleman and scholar of the last generation, when Pope and Dryden were still admired with unction. Trav- els in all parts of the world especially engaged his attention. He was a dili- gent reader of them to his last days. The close of this life, so amiable and full of peaceful trophies, was happily spent almost to the last in freedom from acute disease, and when it finally suc- cumbed, it was at the venerable age of eighty-four, with moderated, but hardly diminished powers of enjoyment. Dur- ing the last year, he became a commu nicant of the Protestant Episcopal Church, to which he had become pre- viously attached. His death occurred December 12, 1847. At the meeting of the Bar of New York, held at the City Hall, on the occasion, the Hon. Samuel Jones presided, and resolutions were offered and supported by Ogden Hoffman, Benjamin F. Butler, Daniel Lord, and Hugh Maxwell. The obli- gations of American law to his early devoted course were dwelt upon, his leading investigations and applications of the civil law, his companionship with Hamilton, Pendleton, Wells, and other magnates of the profession, his sound principles of policy, while the elegant Hoffman, with characteristic fervor, eulogized the virtues of the man. JOHN JAMES AUDUBON. John James Audubon, the American uaturalist, was born on the 4th of May, 1780, on a plantation in Louisiana, which his father, a retired French naval officer, had' made his residence. The family was in prosperous circum- stances, and the son appears to have had every advantage of education. He was early sent to Paris, whence he re- turned to America at the age of seven- teen, with a natural talent for drawing which he possessed, instructed by the hand of no less eminent a master than the painter David. Of the tastes and aspirations which led him in this direc- tion we may best give the reader an impression in the words of the pupil himself. In the " Introductory Ad- dress," a species of autobiographical sketch or retrospect, dated Edinburgh, 1831, placed as a preface to the letter- press of his great work on ornithology, the reminiscent writes with characteris- tic enthusiasm : " I received light and life in the New World. When I had hardly yet learned to walk, and to articu- late those first words always so endear- ing to parents, the productions of nature that lay spread all around were con- stantly pointed out to me. They soon became my playmates, and before my ideas were sufficiently formed to enable me to estimate the difference between the azure tints of the sky and the eme- rald hue of the bright foliage, 1 felt that an intimacy with them, not con- sisting of friendship merely, but bor- dering on frenzy, must accompany my steps through life; and now, more than ever, am I persuaded of the power of those early impressions. They laid such hold upon me that, when removed from the woods, the prairies and the brooks, or shut up from the view of the wide Atlantic, I experienced none of those pleasures most congenial to my mind. None but aerial compan- ions suited my fancy. No roof seemed so secure to me as that formed of the dense foliage under which the feathered tribes were seen to resort, or the caves and fissures of the massy rocks to which the dark-winged cormorant and the curlew retired to rest, or to protect themselves from the fury of the tem- pest. My father generally accompa- nied my steps, procured birds and flowers for me with great eagerness, pointed out the elegant movements of the former, the beauty and softness of their plumage, the manifestations of their pleasure or sense of danger, and the always perfect forms and splendid attire of the latter. My valued pre- ceptor would then speak of the depart- ure and return of birds with the sea 48 JOHN JAMES AUDUBON. sons, and would describe their haunts, and, more wonderful than all, their change of livery; thus exciting me to study them, and to raise my mind toward their great Creator." There were many steps, however, between these first half shaped inti- mations of genius and the perfected scientific naturalist. Enthusiasm will do much, but only in the way of di- recting sober plodding labors. The great distinction of the man of genius is, not that he is able to dispense with toil, but that he has a fresh, ever- springing motive within him which does not permit him to tire at his work. The labor must still be under- taken and accomplished. Indeed, the man of genius, while he is continually shortening the processes is constantly inventing for himself new trials and difficulties. The boy was delighted with his early observations of nature, watching the birth and growth of birds from the egg, looking upon them, he says, " as flowers in the bud." Then came the desire of acquisition, of possession, of forming a collection, similar to the want of a scholar of his own books and library—though perhaps a more impel- ling motive, with the naturalist who has a living sympathy with his brute friends who are dependent on his care. The bird, too, like the book, was capa- ble (f rewarding attention by the de- velopment of new traits. Yet in one respect the book has an advantage. It can be studied during the lifetime of the observer. It does not die and moulder from our view. Something of this, as he tells us, was felt by the young Audubon. Even the prepara- tion of the birds, after death, was oner ous, and required constant care, and was subject tc decay as the beauty of the plumage vanished. "I wished,'' was the longing of the boy naturalist, " all the productions of nature, but I wished life with them." The sequel is told in rather a dramatic way—" I turned to my father and made known to him my disappointment and anxiety He produced a book of illustrations. A new life ran in my veins. I turned over the leaves with avidity ; and al- though what I saw was not what 1 longed for, it gave me a desire to copy nature." To copy nature—it is in three words the story of his future life. That perception of nature in its liv- ing forms was so keen that it made the youth the severest critic of his own labors, impelling him to work and compelling him to destroy. His pen- cil, he says, " gave birth to a family of cripples. So maimed were most of them that they resembled the mangled corpses on a field of battle, compared with the integrity of living men." One expression strikes us as of singu- lar force and felicity. " The worse my drawings were, the more beautiful did I see the originals." So he plodded on, frequently dissatisfied, but never discontinuing his work. It was a sure sign of his mental growth that for a long time every successive birthday witnessed a grand incremation of these immature sketches. Such was his youthful experience when he returned from Francev instructed, as we have seen, by David, leaving the fine arts JOHN JAMES AUDUBON. 49 of the Old World, its wealth of galler- ies and thousand charms of history, to devote himself to simple nature in the New. His father gave him the opportunity of gratifying his tastes for rural life and study, by presenting him a farm in Pennsylvania, richly furnished with woods and evergreens, and watered by a running stream, where the free fea- thered inhabitants were at his door. But a long time was yet to elapse before he was fully conscious to him- self of his claim upon the world as a naturalist, who had a story to tell the public worth listening to, and some- thing to show worth ' seeing. These upward and outwrard struggles of na- ture are the great lessons of biography. All can understand the finished work; but men are every day making mis- takes in their judgment of the traits of character, and processes which lead to excellence. " For a period of twenty years," writes Audubon, " my life was a succession of vicissitudes. I tried various branches of commerce, but they all proved unprofitable, doubtless because my whole mind was ever filled with my passion for rambling and ad- miring those objects of nature from which alone I received the purest grati- fication. I had to struggle against the will of all who at that period called themselves my friends. I must here, however, except my wife and children. The remarks of my other friends irri- tated me beyond endurance, and break- ing through all bonds, I gave myself entirely up to my pursuits. Any one unacquainted with the extraordinary desire which I then felt of seeing and judging for myself, would doubtless have pronounced me callous to every sense of duty, and regardless of every interest. I undertook long and tedious journeys, ransacked the woods, the lakes, the prairies, and the shores of the Atlantic. Years were spent away from my family. Yet, reader, will you believe it, I had no other object in view than simply to enjoy the sight of nature." In one of those delightful sketches of natural scenery with which the de- scriptive volumes of his great work is interspersed, Audubon pauses to ask of Irving and Cooper to describe the virgin country of the Ohio and Miss- issippi, which in twenty years he had seen transformed from an unbroken wilderness into the thickly peopled abode of civilization. It was the feli city of Audubon that his attention was turned to the observation of nature while her early features yet remained unchanged, that he was the immediate successor of Wilson, a kindred spirit, and a contemporary of Daniel Boone. His description of the scenery of the Ohio, in the account of the journey with his wife and infant son, from his Pennsylvania home to a new residence at Henderson, Kentucky, about the year 1810, shows the naturalist to have had an appreciative eye for the beau- ties of the landscape in his quest of its wild animal occupants. We thus find the young naturalist, who as yet made no pretensions to the name, happily married, leaving his At- lantic home for a new residence in the West. He was for a time established as a trader at Henderson, on the Ohio, 50 JOH^ JAME; in the western portion of Kentucky, and at Louisville, all the while occu- pying himself with his gun in his favorite rambles and studies of orni- thology. An incident of his mercantile life at the latter place deserves men- tion in his biography. He was one day waited upon in his counting-room by Alexander Wilson, the devoted naturalist, the pioneer of American forests, and solicited for a subscription to the " American Ornithology." Nei- ther at the moment appears to have had any previous knowledge of the pursuits of the other. Audubon exam- ined the engravings of Wilson with O CD interest, and the latter was still more surprised to witness the drawings of birds in the portfolio of a western storekeeper. Wilson asked if it was his intention to publish, and appeared still more perplexed when he learnt that so patient a student had no such object. He borrowed the drawings to examine during his stay in the town, and was introduced to birds new to him in the neighborhood, in hunting with his chance acquaintance. Audu- bon, who as yet had not " taken unto the height the measure of himself," placed all his drawings at the disposal of his visitor, with the result of his re- searches, proposing a correspondence, and stipulating only in return for an acknowledgment, in the published work, of what came from his pencil. It was perhaps well for both that the liberal offer was not accepted; for each was strong enough to stand by himself, and the world can look upon the inde- pendent labors of both with an admira- tion which it has been taught by both AUDUBON. to cultivate. They were alike pupils in the great school of nature, taking their lessons in the wilderness, encoun- tering, Wilson particularly, more ene- mies in the indifference of the world than the " winter and rough weather" to which they voluntarily subjected themselves. It was not till 1824, on a visit to Philadelphia, when he was introduced by Dr. Mease to Prince Charles Lucien Bonaparte, who, an accomplished na- turalist himself, saw the value of Au dubon's labors, and animated him by his encouragement, that he set seriously about the work of thorough prepara- tion for publication. He was presented by the Prince to the Natural History Society of Philadelphia, and, proceed- ino- to New York, was received with kindness by the inhabitants as he made his way " by that noble stream, the Hudson, to glide over our broad lakes and seek the wildest solitudes of the pathless and gloomy forests." It was at this time, he tells us, and in these scenes, that he first entertained the thought of visiting Europe to obtain the means and carry out the plan of multiplying his drawings by engraving. Eighteen months were passed in addi- tional preparation, his family mean- while leaving their home in Louisiana before he was ready to break ground in the Old World. In 1826, at the age of forty-six, una- ble to obtain the facilities for publish- ing his work in the United States, he' set sail for England, bearing with him the drawings from original studies, upon which he had expended so much care. Twice in this season of pupilage JOHN JAMES AUDUBON. 51 he had been almost driven to despair. It was while he was a resident of Ohio that, returning from a visit to Phila- delphia, he found two hundred of his original drawings, representing nearly a thousand birds, which he had left carefully stored in a box, had been de- stroyed in his absence by a family of Norway rats, which had taken possess- ion of the case. " The burning heat," he writes, " which instantly rushed through my brain, was too great to be endured without affecting the whole of ray nervous system. I slept not for several nights, and the days passed like days of oblivion, until the animal powers being recalled into action, through the strength of my constitu- tion, I took up my gun, my note-book, and my pencil, and went forth to the woods as gaily as if nothing had hap- pened. I felt pleased that I might now make much better drawings than before : and, ere a period not exceeding three years had elapsed, I had my portfolio filled, again." The second trial was when Lawson, the engraver of the works of Lucien Bonaparte, at Philadelphia, pronounced it impossible to engrave from his drawings. It is by such trials that men of genius are dis- ciplined—trials which it requires ge- nius to undergo. It was not unnatural that the travel- ler should experience some despondency as he approached the shores of Eng- land. He was well armed with letters of introduction, but Europe had thus far received too little in his department of science from America to be greatly agitated at his arrival. His doubts were multiplied as he read the unsym- pathizing faces in the crowded streets of Liverpool. But how could they be interested in an unknown stranger 1 At home the hunter naturalist could hide his sorrows in the forest, as the scholar takes refuge in his library; but what could he do in this busy thorough- fare ? " To the woods," he says with feeling simplicity, " I could not betake myself, for there were none near." But in a moment the scene was changed to success and felicity. The merchant princes and men of science of Liverpool took their visitor by the hand; his drawings were exhibited and he was on the high road to fame. An equally friendly reception awaited him at Man- chester, and at Edinburgh he was re- ceived with hearty welcome by the magnates of the University, Jameson, Wilson, Brown, Monroe and others, and by such celebrities as Sir Walter Scott, Captain Hall, and the rest who made up the brilliant society of the culti- vated upper classes of the northern metropolis. Nor was it an idle tribute of men of taste and fashion in litera- ture. The compliments which he re- ceived were accompanied by substan- tial rewards in subscriptions to his undertaking; though the manufactur- ing wealth of Leeds and Manchester was able to render more of this mate- rial assistance than learned Edinburgh. Of the one hundred and eighty names appended to the first volume of orni- thological biography, accompanying the first instalment of one hundred plates, the number of subscribers fur- nished by these manufacturing towns is most creditable to the taste and liber- ality of the inhabitants. But it is, per- nj JOHN JAME haps, still more to the credit of Ameri. ca, whose wealth was less abundant, that nearly one-half the whole sub- scription was furnished him at home. The unprecedented success of the popular American subscription to the work of Agassiz on natural history of the present time, shows that the liberal- ity of the country keeps pace with its riches. Audubon commenced the publica- tion of his work, " The Birds of Ame- rica, from Drawings made in the Unit- ed States and their Territories," in Edinburgh, whence it was transferred to the hands of the engraver, Robert Havell, of London, by whom it was thenceforth executed. The drawings were in the engraver's hands before a single subscriber was obtained; but when the publication was commenced, in 1827, twenty-five plates were issued regularly every year, and the close of 1830 saw the first volume completed. The work was issued in numbers, at the subscription price of two guineas each, a number containing five plates. The entire series of four hundred and thirty-five plates was issued to subscri- bers for one thousand dollars. After laying the foundation of his great enterprise in England, Mr. Audu- bon visited Paris, where he was com- plimented by the interest taken in his work by the distinguished Cuvier and the savans of the metropolis. The ex- traordinary dimensions of his pictures, then a novelty, enabling him to repre- sent every 1 ird of the size of life, the fidelity and lifelike air of his drawing and coloring, the interest of these new additions to science, were well adapted 1 AUDUBON. to secure admiration. If the undertak- ing, said Cuvier, were carried out America would surpass the Old World in magnificence of execution. Encour aged by these glowing tributes, which were fairly extorted by his brilliant labors, Audubon having fairly intro- duced his work to the public, and seen the successive numbers improving un- der the hands of his engraver, returned in 1829 for a hurried visit to the Unit- ed States, " scouring the woods" as usual, for new objects for his pencil. In the spring of the next year he was in London with his family, and in 1831 was once more in America, intent upon a comprehensive tour of observation and discovery. He procured letters from the Department at Washington to the mil- itary outposts, explored the Carolinas and Florida, and following the birds in their migrations, proceeded northward to Maine and Labrador, everywhere en- riching his portfolio with the results of his explorations. The sketches of his travelling in Florida .and Labrador, like the notices of his western tours, abound in pleasing passages of descrip- tion. The contrast of these several scenes adds not a little to their charms ; while, interspersed with the exact de- scription of birds, they infuse a personal human interest among the necessarily formal details of ornithological science. Audubon thus passed nearly three years " of travel and research " in Ame- rica before he returned to England, where he was greeted by his completed second volume, one-half of his project- ed work. A third appeared in due time, and the fourth and last was fin- ished in 1838. JOHN JAMES AUDUBON. 53 After this the author was at liberty to make his permanent home in Ameri- ca, and consequently in 1839 returned to the United States, and became the purchaser of a country seat in the im- mediate vicinity of Ne*w York, on the banks of the Hudson, on the upper portion of the island on which the city is situated. To bring the results of his great work within the reach of a larger number of the public, he employed himself upon its reduction. This was published in New York in seven octavo volumes, between 1840 and 1844. Nor had the author meantime relinquished his active habits of exploration. In company with his sons Victor Gifford and John Woodhouse he traversed the remoter regions of the country, collect- ing materials for a new work on which he now became engaged, on the Vivi- parous Quadrupeds of North America. Besides the aid of his sons, he had the assistance in this work of his friend, the accomplished naturalist, the Rev. John Bachman of South Carolina. It was in size similar to the original " Or- nithology," and was completed in three volumes in 1848. This was the last publishing enterprise which the author lived to see completed, a smaller edi- tion of the work having appeared since his death. There was something very pleasing in the fine manly appearance of the venerable disciple of nature in his last years—for age treated him kindly, and he carried with him nearly to the last, a fresh, buoyant energy of his own. His time, when not passed in his favor- ite woods, was spent in the familiar labors of the pencil, and in the enjoy- n.—7 ment, surrounded by his family and friends, of his suburban rural retreat. He had the rare satisfaction, also, of seeing his fame established throughout the world, and of witnessing, as his active powers failed, the continuance of his labors in the hands of his sons, devoted to his science and art. His last perception of fading consciousness was a few days before his death, when one of his sons held before him some of his most cherished drawings. He died on the 27th January, 1851. For a personal description of the man in his prime, we may cite the elo> quent tribute of one who had much in common with Audubon in the genial, unfettered love of nature, and in cer- tain poetic impulses which pervade alike the prose writings of each. In enthusiasm for the woods and fields, Professor Wilson, or Christopher North, as he delighted to call himself in this holiday capacity, was the equal of Au- dubon. There was much, too, alike in their personal appearance—the flowing mane of hair, the careless hunter's dress, the eagle eye. Wilson, in the passage alluded to, is reviewing the " Ornithological Biography," on the publication of the first volume in 1831. He thus introduces the author: " When, some five years ago, we first set eyes on him, in a party of literati, in 'stately Edinborough throned on crags,' he was such an American woods- man as took the shine out of us mod- ern Athenians. Though dressed, of course, somewhat after the fashion of ourselves, his long raven locks hung curling over his shoulders, yet unshorn from the wilderness. They were shad- 54 JOHN JAMES AUDUBON. ed across his open forehead with a sim- ple elegance, such as a civilized Christ- ian might be supposed to give his ' fell of hair,' when practising ' every man his own perruquier' in some liquid mirror in the forest glade, employing, perhaps, for a comb, the claw of the bald eagle. His sallow, fine-featured face bespoke a sort of wild independ- ence ; and then such an eye, keen as that of the falcon! His foreign accent and broken English speech—for he is of French descent—removed him still further out of the commonplace circle of this everyday world of ours; and his whole demeanor—it might be with us partly imagination—was colored to our thought by a character of conscious freedom and dignity, which he had habitually acquired in his long and lonely wanderings among the woods, where he had lived in the uncompanied love and delight of nature, and in the studious observation of all the ways of her winged children, that forever flut- tered over his paths, and roosted on the tree at whose feet he lay at night, beholding them still the sole images that haunted his dreams." * It is understood that Audubon left behind him a work of autobiography. The passages which he has given from his journals in his Ornithological Bio- graphy would lead us to expect a book of rare interest. These relate, of course, mainly to incidents of his travels un- dertaken in pursuit of his favorite science. They have the charm of the 1 Blackwood's Magazine, voL xxx. p. 11. French temperament, that happy talent of observation and description which harmonizes so admirably the simple and rude elements of frontier rural life; that art of pleasure—that determina- tion of pleasing and being pleased, so characteristic of the race. The move- ments of Audubon among this humble society seem to have caught something of the easy gracefulness of his own feathered songsters. He appears,never insensible to common blessings, never long depressed at the difficulties of his situation. There is a felicity in many of these little narratives which added new interest in the productions of his pen to the faithful delineations of his pencil. As an index of the wealth of beauty in his pictorial works, we might contrast his accounts of the Bird of Washington, a species of the eagle tribe which he prided himself upon being the first to depict, and the Louisiana mocking-bir.d, which he has so charmingly described. But who has not seen the engravings of the Birds of America—a work indeed too expensive for popular circulation in its original form, the somewhat exclusive possession of the wealthy, and chosen as a rare and costly gift by Govern- ment to foreign states; but familiar to the eye in our public libraries and gal- leries ? A glance at the ample pages will show the patient study of a life- time, the result of years of watching and investigation of the habits of birds, their peculiar traits, their exqui- site plumage, their arch attitudes, and even their favorite surroundings. k-^/iZZ 'Z- s \ ' N DE WITT CLINTON. On a previous page, in the notice of Governor George Clinton, the " soldier and statesman of the Revolution," we have traced the history of the Clinton family through their remarkable Ame- rican progenitor, Charles Clinton, of New York colonial memory, to their remote European ancestry. We are now to follow the fortunes of another branch of the family, which perpetuat- ed its honors with increasing fame to a third generation on this soil. A race which has given two distinguished governors to New York, each of whom stood in a certain direct relation to the Presidency, must excite a biographic interest. General James Clinton, the brother of Governor George Clinton, and father of De Witt Clinton, was born at the homestead in Little Britain, in a part of Ulster County now included in Or- ange, in 1736. He early acquired a knowledge of military affairs, and was in actual service with his father and brother in the old French war at Fron- tenac. When the peace of Versailles con- cluded hostilities, he still kept an eye on the profession of arms, and rose by his merits in the colonial service to impor- tant frontier commands. He married, at this time, Mary De Witt, a young lady of excellent Dutch descent. The Clinton family, always imbued with liberal principles, was naturally looked to by the Whigs of the Revolution. James, with his brother, joined the in- fant cause, was appointed to high com- mands in the provincial service, and speedily engrafted, a brigadier general, on the army of the United States. He was with Montgomery in his invasion of Canada, at Montreal, and gallantly defended Fort Clinton, by the side of his brother at Fort Montgomery, when both, after a valiant resistance were compelled to yield to the superior forces of Sir Henry Clinton. James Clinton was the last man to leave the works. His escape was one of the wonders of that hard-fought day. He was severely wounded by a bayonet thrust, as he fled, pursued by the bul- lets of the enemy. His servant was killed by his side. Taking his bridle from his horse, he slid down the rocky precipice of the fort a hundred feet, to the ravine, crept along the bank, his flowing blood staunched by a fall into the river, till morning, when he met with a horse on which he rode sixteen miles to his home. He was engaged in other military services in the State and was at the final surrender at York- town. After participating in the hon- ors of Washington's entry into New 66 56 DE WITT CLINTON. York, he retired to his country-seat in Orange County, where, dying at the age of seventy-six, his remains were laid in a tomb inscribed by his son— " He was a good man and a sincere patriot, performing, in the most exem- plary manner, all the duties of life: and he died, as he lived, without fear and without reproach." His son, De Witt Clinton, was born at the family residence, at Little Bri- tain, March 2, 1769. His early educa- tion was under the care of the Presby- terian pastor of the settlement, and at the Academy of Mr. Addison, at Kingston. At the close of the war he was a youth of fifteen, on his way to Princeton, when he was arrested at New York by the efforts to revive the seat of learning, King's College, in that city, whose short existence in the colo- nial era had been attended with dis- tinguished success. His uncle, George Clinton, the governor of the State, took an active part in this reorganiza- tion, which was effected in 1784. De Witt Clinton was the first matriculated student of the revived institution, which now bore the name of Columbia College. He entered the junior class, and in April, 1786, received his degree at the first Commencement after the Revolution. Forty-one years after, shortly before his death, in an address before the alumni, Clinton paid a grate- ful tribute to the founders of the ris- ing college; to Cochran, the classical scholar, to Kemp, the professor of ma- thematics and natural philosophy, to Benjamin Moore, subsequently the bishop, whose benignity added a grace to his department of rhetoric. Coch- ran lived to delight in his pupil, and to lay his wealth of praise, in well chosen learned phraseology, upon his grave. " He did everything well; upon the whole, he seemed likely to me to prove, as he did prove, a high- ly useful and practical man; what the Romans call civilis and the Greeks politikos, a useful citizen, qualified to counsel and direct his fellow citizens to honor and happiness." To the ingenu- ity and insight of Kemp, particularly in his inculcation of the value of canal navigation, in internal improvements, a marked influence has been attributed upon the career of his pupil. There is one habit of his college years which accompanied him through life, one with which few men who make their mark in the world at the present day are able to dispense—the practice of study- ing with the pen in hand. He thus acquired an exact mental discipline, and laid the foundation of that accu- mulated stock of literature and science which was the solace and support of his after career. On the completion of these prepara- tory lessons—for they were but prepa- ratory—Clinton was always a student and learner—he engaged in the study of the law in the office of Samuel Jones, an eminent counsellor of the time, the father of the late Chancellor Jones. It was the season of the adop- tion of the Federal Constitution, and the young student was an anxious watcher of the debates at the session of the Ratifying Convention at Pough- keepsie. His uncle, the governor, it will be remembered, sat at the head of that body, and was one of the most DE WITT CLINTON. 57 resolute opponents of the measure. The nephew was thus early in corres- pondence with politicians in New York, to whom he communicated the progress of the debate. He shared the views of his uncle, his jealousy of consolida- tion, and fears of the loss of State pri- vileges, and had already signalized his course as an Anti-Federalist by his series of letters signed " A Country- man," in reply to the papers of Jay, Hamilton, and Madison. The oppo- nents of the Constitution were, how- ever, compelled to yield their preju- dices to the necessities of the case, un- der cover of urgent pleas for proposed amendments. De Witt Clinton was now taken into the employ of the governor as his secretary, and thus made his entrance upon public affairs in 1789. In 1794 he was made secretary of the Board of Regents of the University, and in this capacity drew the Report in favor of the incorporation of Union College, containing the earliest official recommendation of the establishment of schools by the Legislature, for the common branches of education.1 He was also secretary of the Board of Commissioners of the State fortifica- tions. In these appointments he had the example and assistance of his uncle, always a zealous and enlightened promoter of the welfare of New York. This influence ceased when the gover- nor retired from office, in 1795, when the young Clinton commenced the practice of the law in New York. He was brought in contact with Dr. Street's Council of Revision, etc., p. 138. Hosack and Dr. Mitchill, then profes- sors of botany and chemistry in Colum- bia College, with whom he prosecuted those studies of natural history which grew to be great favorites with him, and in which he became an accom- plished adept. He married at this time Miss Franklin, the daughter of an eminent Quaker merchant of New York. In 1797 he was elected to the Legislature as a member of the Assem bly, and in the following year to its upper house, the Senate, when he was chosen a member of the Council of Ap- pointment. While in discharge of this duty, a question arose within this body as to the right of nomination. It had been exercised by the Council in oppo- sition to the claim of Governor Clin- ton, and was now reasserted in conflict with Governor Jay. De Witt Clinton was opposed to the governor, and his view of the-matter was sustained by the convention to which the question was submitted by the Legislature. To this decision, which cast the power of the State into the hands of the repub- lican party, is assigned the beginning of the course of proscription which embittered so greatly the subsequent political career of Clinton. He was now, however, on the rising tide of popularity, and in 1802, at the early age of thirty-three, was appointed to a vacancy in the Senate of the United States, where he took his seat by the side of GoUverneur Morris, his fellow representative from the State. Clinton had- been two years in the Senate when he resigned his post to assume the mayoralty of New York as the successor of Edward Livingston 58 DE WITT CLINTON. He entered upon the duties of this office in 1803, and with several short intervals, when he was displaced by the fluctuations of party, continued to hold it till 1815. A mayor of New York at that time differed not only in the manner of his election, but in many of his employments, from his successors of the present day. He had a degree and variety of power in his hands for which a senatorship might well be exchanged. He presided at the meetings of the Common Council, then sitting in a single body. He ex- ercised also important judicial func- tions as chief judge of the common pleas and of the criminal court, and at the head of the police. In all these relations Clinton was active and efficient; firm and honest as a judge, resolute and in- trepid in checking riot and preserving the peace. These were the ordinary duties of a magistrate. He had others to perform of his own choosing and advocacy, growing out of his tastes for literature and science. Foremost among these, in point of time and importance, was the Free School Association, for which a charter was procured in 1805. The act speaks of a single school, and its object was "to provide for the edu- cation of poor children who do not be- long to, or are not provided for, by any religious society." The undertaking was stimulated by the success of Lan- caster, with his direct and economical system in England. His plans were followed by Clinton and his associates in New York. Funds were provided by charitable subscriptions, Clinton himself soliciting contributions from loor to door, and the first school was opened in May, 1806, in a small apart- ment in Bancker street. The corpora- tion of the city then appropriated a building adjacent to the alms-house for the purpose, and in 1809 the institu- tion found a permanent lodgment in a building erected by its funds on the site of an old arsenal which was grant- ed for the purpose. On the completion of this building, in 1809, Clinton, as president of the society, delivered an opening address, noticeable for his en- lightened interest in the subject of education, and as a landmark whence we may measure the progress to the present gigantic public school system of the city. While holding the office of the may- oralty, Clinton was, in 1805, elected a State senator, which gave him an op- portunity of directly influencing the Legislature in the promotion of his favorite civic and philanthropic schemes. Many an act, under which the present generation enjoys some special privi- lege or benefit, owes its origin to the sagacity and perseverance of Clin- ton at Albany. The charters of the Sailor's Snug Harbor, the old Manu- mission Society, the Bloomingdale Hos- pital for the Insane, the first insurance company of the State, the American Academy of Arts, of which he was made president, acts in behalf of the Orphan Society, and numerous other phi- lanthropic associations; others for the benefit of medical science, and generally relating to everything of importance to the welfare of the city, originated with him or were especially intrusted to his guardianship. In his seat as senator, in the Court of Errors, he deli- DE WITT vered opinions on questions involving^ important principles of constitutional law and rights of property which gained the admiration of so compe- tent a critic as Chancellor Kent. We have enumerated some of the liberal objects in the advancement of the city which engaged the attention of Clinton, at the head of which must be ranked his personal efforts to secure the benefits of education to every struggling child of poverty capable and willing to receive them. The list of his good deeds in this second forma- tive era of city life, when New York was on the eve of that movement which has since borne her so rapidly to her proud eminence as a metropolis of the nation, is not yet complete. We can hardly mention any liberal enter- prise of the city which does not owe something to his fostering care and pro- tection. What Franklin, in his gener- ation, did for Philadelphia, De Witt Clinton, a half a century later, accom- plished for New York. There is a period in most institutions when the first efforts of their originators are spent; the enthusiasm of the original idea is worn off; the scanty supply of means exhausted: when an opportune deliverer is needed to save the labors of the original projector. Many useful societies, destined to a long life, pass through several such stages. De Witt Clinton interposed with his friendly services on more than one crisis of the kind. He took the languishing Acad- emy of Arts under his protection, ob- tained a charter for it, and a local habitation in the Government House, i near the Battery. This institution had I CLINTON. 59 found a zealous friend in its founder and first president, Chancellor Livings- ton. On his death, Clinton succeeded to the vacant chair. He delivered a discourse before this Academy in 1816. The Historical Society was another struggling enterprise to which he ren- dered the most important assistance. It appealed to him by considerations of family history and national pride to which he was never insensible. He drew up the act of incorporation, and , the report seconding its adoption in the Legislature, and when it was neces- sary to establish the society on a firmer pecuniary basis, he prepared an elabo- rate memorial of its aims and objects, with which he again appealed to that body, and secured an important grant in its favor. In 1811 he delivered, at the anniversary meeting of the society, a discourse on the history of the Iro- quois or Five Indian Nations of the State, replete with historical research and philosophical observation. He was at this time vice president of the so- ciety. He succeeded to the presidency in 1817. The New York Literary and Philo- sophical Society was another institu- tion which called for and received his aid from the start. He was chosen its first president, and opened its public proceedings with an admirable intro- ductory discourse, not merely abound- ing in scientific information, but instinct with the zeal and warmth of a lover's admiration. For natural history he had a great fondness. Associated with Mitchill, Hosack, and others, and in his tours through the State, he devoted himself to numerous original iuvtstiga 00 DE WITT CLINTON. tions recorded in his papers in the Transactions of the Society just spoken of, in his journals, and other publica- tions. The period of these interesting pur- suits also gave birth to those schemes of internal improvements connected with canal navigation, with which the name of Clinton is indissolubly linked in his native State. His attention had early been directed, in the annual mes- sages of his uncle, the first governor, to the subject of canals in New York. That enlightened patriot, in 1791, 1792, and 1794, had urged a liberal policy upon the Legislature in connec- tion with certain northern and western companies of inland lock navigation. In a glowing passage of an address de- livered by De Witt Clinton as early as the last mentioned year, he had pro- phesied the influence of art in changing the face of the world. These early companies, confined to a limited portion of the State, were at- tended with but little success. In March, 1810, the Legislature seemed disposed to take up the matter in ear- nest in the appointment of a committee of which De Witt Clinton was a mem- ber, with Gouverneur Morris, Ste- phen Van Rensselaer, Thomas Eddy, William North, Simeon De Witt, and Peter B. Porter, charged with the ex- ploration of the whole route from the Hudson to Lake Ontario and Lake Erie. The tour was made, and happily a private journal kept of its numerous interesting incidents by De Witt Clin- ton. It remains a most interesting picture of the condition of the State just before its great system of improve- jnents was undertaken, which must in crease in value with every succeeding year as the country recedes from its primitive aspect. As usual, the obser- ver is intent not merely on the mecha- nical advantages, but the general phy- sical conditions of the region which he traversed. In 1820 he sketched the incidents of a similar journey in the " Letters of Hibernicus on the Natural History and Internal Resources of the State of New York," a genial and ani- mated production of permanent inter- est. The canal was reported favorably upon by Gouverneur Morris, in behalf of the commissioners. The Legislature renewed their powers and added Liv- ingston and Fulton to their council. In furtherance of its designs, Clinton and Morris visited Washington to secure the, aid of the United States Govern- ment. President Madison and his cab- inet had other affairs of more pressing interest before them, and the work was left to the exertions of Clinton and his friends in his own State. Before resuming our brief narrative of Clinton's connection with the canal policy of the State, we must briefly state the chief incidents of his political career, from which these scientific and literary pursuits were but diversions. We have seen him recalled from Con gress to the mayoralty, and sitting in the State Senate. In 1811 he was elected lieutenant governor, and the following year put in nomination by a convention of his republican friends in the Presidential election of 1812, in opposition to Madison. Failing of his election, he was placed in a somewhat DE WITT ambiguous position between the advo- cates of the war and its opponents, which was aggravated by subsequent party divisions in his State, in the pro- gress of which he was thrown out of the mayoralty. Clinton, it is said, was ambitious of office; if so, it was always as a means to his useful and honorable ends. He now found means to pursue the latter even without the former. He now de- termined with his friends to revive the great canal project which had been suspended by the war. A meeting of influential citizens was called in the autumn of 1815, at the City Hotel, in New York, to which he presented a memorial on the whole subject, demon- strating the practicability of the union of the Hudson with Lake Erie, setting forth the various details and enforcing the vast benefits of the work. Never was a great undertaking more nobly heralded than in this convincing docu- ment. It was sent abroad and numer- ously signed by the public, presented in February, 1816 to the Legislature, who had now again the subject fully before them. Clinton was again ap- pointed one of the commissioners of a new board, new reports were made, and in 1817 the construction of the work duly authorized. The same year Clinton was elected by the people, spite of party, governor of the State, and continued to hold the office by successive elections with the ex- ception of a single term in 1823 and 1824, till his death. It was on his gratifying reelection, after the interregnum when his political enemies deprived him even of his unpaid office of canal commis- u.—8 CLINTON. 61 sioner, that he had the further satisfac- tion of witnessing the completion of the great project of his life, the Erie canal. The rejoicings of New York at that period belong to the national history. The celebration • extended throughout the State. The day which crowned the work was the 26th of Oc- tober, 1825. Governor Clinton, ac- companied by delegates from New York and the villages along the line, embarked at the western terminus of the canal at Buffalo, on its waters, and pursued its whole length to Albany, while signal guns, fired from station to station, rapidly bore the news of his progress in advance to New York. The party continued their course clown the Hudson to that city, where they were met by a splendid flotilla of steamboats and other maritime dis- plays, which led them to the ocean, when the waters of Lake Erie, as in the festal processions of Venice in the Adriatic, were mingled with the Atlan- tic. It was a proud moment for Clinton —one of those triumphs in the history of science when the laurels which so many deserving candidates fail to grasp are placed upon the brow of some favored individual, whose energy is at last rewarded with success. Clinton had every way a right to the ovation. He was a genuine son of New York, a growth of a family tree which had struck its roots deep into the soil, which had extorted nourishment from the wilderness, which had strengthened in the blasts of the Revolution, had encountered the fiercer storm of politi- cal agitation, and survived many in- • 62 DE WITT CLINTON. ferior brethren of the forest which thrust their foliage between its gigantic trunk and the sunlight. We sicken as we read of the strife of party, so un- generous in its opposition to this great man. It may be, indeed, that the strife and opposition were inevitable. So much the more pleasing are the peace- ful, beneficent labors of Clinton—in the poet and philosopher's praise of Epicu- rus, illustrating the benefits of life, adding to the welfare of the race by acts of unmitigated blessing. The heart of New York should throb with emotion at the name of this ardent, chivalrous spirit of civilization; the pioneer and faithful guardian of so much of her prosperity. We have now arrived at a culminat- ing point so near the close of this illus- trious life, that for our present pur- poses the narrative may well close. Yet it would be injustice to the fame of our great statesman, were we to omit some mention of the annual mes- sages which, as governor, he sent forth to. the State, models of literary compo- sition as well as of the details of pub- lic business. He always enforced the plans of internal improvement, sanc- tioned by the success of his great en- terprise, and when occasion permitted, his language, as in his review of the prosperity of his country in his last address of this kind at the beginning of 1828, rose to moral beauty. It was not long after this message was delivered, that, on the 11th of Feb- ruary, 1828, at the close of a day spent in public business, while yet engaged with his son in his study, in the peru- sal of the letters of the evening mail, that, stricken at the heart, he almost instantaneously expired. The character of De Witt Clinton needs no effort of labored interpreta- tion. His portrait speaks the habitual gravity which sat on his countenance, with an air of pride which might be interpreted haughtiness or dignity, ac- cording to the feeling and knowledge of the observer. His figure was tall and commanding. He was active, an early riser, incessant in toil, sparing lit- tle for the frivolities of life and the arts by which politicians ingratiate themselves with their fellows. But they who could appreciate worth and goodness never mistook him. Twice married, he was endeared to a large family connection. Of the political asperities which entangled so consider- able a portion of a valuable life, we have said little. They undoubtedly present a curious subject of inquiry, by no means unprofitable, but this is not the place to ferret them out from the oblivion to which such passions of the hour are committed. There are many necessary labors in life, working to good ends, the memory of which we do not seek to perpetuate. Of these the petty details of controversial poli- tical warfare, perhaps, are the least in- teresting to posterity. They dwindle and stand abashed before the social and philanthropic benefits conferred by Clinton. OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. The gallant, amiable hero of Lake Erie, alike estimable as a man and admirable as a warrior, had, in his blood, two elements which seldom failed in our history, when they were put to the proof, to bring forth the matured fruits of patriotism. His first American ancestor, Edmund Perry, was one of the Devonshire emigrants from England, who fled from religious perse- cution, in the seventeenth century, to the colony at Plymouth, in Massachusetts; but unlike some of his companions there, he fled not from Laud and his spiritual exactions, but from the fight- ing men of Cromwelb He was a Quaker, and his pacific tenets were at war with the temper of the times. Nor did he find rest at Plymouth, where on other grounds Quakers were equally obnoxious. Like Roger Wil- liams, he sought relief from his breth- ren among the children of the forest, and like him found a peaceful refuge with his companions on the waters of Narragansett Bay. He purchased a quantity of land from the Indians, at a place called South Kingston, an estate which continued to his descendants, supplied a family home, and gave, in due time, the subject of our sketch to the State of Rhode Island. Descending to the great grandson of Edmund Perry, characteristically named Freeman Perry, we find him a man of influence in the colony, a lawyer, a judge and member of the Colonial As- sembly, married to the daughter of a wealthy and educated gentleman, Oli- ver Hazard, also a descendant of the old Quaker stock. Of this alliance came the early Revolutionary naval hero, Christopher Raymond Perry, the father of the hero of Lake Erie. We do not know precisely how this Quaker gentleman got so intimately into the wars, whether his principles were weaker, or his logic stronger than that of some of his brethren; but no one was more resolute, and few suffered more in the cause of the country. He was in the volunteer service in Rhode Island—he was at sea in the privateer service, in the absence of a navy, a more dignified and patriotic pursuit than it might be at present. In one of these adventures he was taken prisoner, and brought into New York to taste the horrors, at which humanity shud- ders, of the Jersey prison-ship. Smart- ing with the indignity, emaciated with fever on his escape, he rejoined his com rades on the ocean, and both in the navy and in the privateer service fought gallantly against the foe. He was captured again, and imprisoned 68 64 OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. for eighteen months in Ireland; escap- ing once more, he reached America when the war was over. All this occurred when he was but a youth, for he was only twenty-two at the declara- tion of peace. Still following the sea, we next find him mate of a merchantman sailing to Ireland. Upon his return voyage, he falls in love with one of the passengers, Sarah Alexander, of Irish birth and Scotch descent. Both, at this time, are spoken of as remarkable for their per- sonal beauty, and force of character. The next year, 1784, Captain Perry married his blooming acquaintance, and the pair made their home at the old family estate in Rhode Island. There Oliver Hazard Perry was born, August 23, 1785. The late Com- mander Mackenzie of the navy, who possessed, what we may term, a fine biographic faculty, has traced in his interesting narrative of the Life of Perry, with fond minuteness, the early incidents of the boy's career. The chief characteristics, he tells us, " were an uncommon share of beauty, a sweet- ness and gentleness of disposition, which corroborated the expression of his countenance, and a perfect disregard of danger, amounting to apparent un- consciousness." This biographer gives some curious anecdotes of his school days. His first schoolmaster was an odd specimen of the race. He was a kindly old gentleman of the neighbor- hood, an amateur of the profession, whose humor it was, reversing the usual relation between wisdom and her followers, himself actually to lie in bed j in the schoolroom while the scholars! surrounded his couch, the nearest, of course, coming in for the most flogging. Then there was "old Master Kelly,'' the instructor of three generations, at Tower Hill, some four miles off, whither the young Oliver accompanied his fair cousins, and learnt more of grace and humanity from their com- pany, than even from the proverbial emollit mores of the pedagogue. A man who serves three generations is likely to be an old boy with those who come last, and we are not surprised to learn that Kelly retired "from sheer superannuation." The succession of schoolmasters at Tower Hill then be- came a little unsteady. The new man from Connecticut did not stay long. The one who came after him had his virtues, but was intemperate. Men of genius who stumble into that vocation are sometimes driven there by drink, a fatal habit which banishes them from higher positions to which they are bet- ter entitled. In this way, you will occasionally meet with a most accom- plished scholar in very humble circum- stances. If so, accept the benefit with thanks, nor look too narrowly at the inscrutable providence which has brought a learned, and, perhaps, amia- ble man to your village, sent and retained there by the fearful bond of his master vice. He may not be all in ruin. The careful student of Perry's life will not regret these notices of his schoolmasters, who frequently stand next to a boy's parents in the forma tion of his character. But we-must j here refer the reader to Mackenzie's I biography for the more particular nar- OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. 65 rative. Suffice it to say, that the fam- ily removing to Newport about this time, Perry found good opportunities of education at that place, and availed himself of them in a manly spirit. lie was especially instructed in mathe- matics, and their application to naviga- tion and nautical astronomy. As proof of the boy's ingenuousness, and the interest he excited in intelligent ob- servers, it is related that Count Rocham- beau, the son of the General of the Revolution, then residing at Newport, was particularly attracted to him, and that Bishop Seabury, on his visitation, marked him as a boy of religious feel- ing. These are traits which shape the man ; we shall find them reappearing in the maturity of Perry's life, in his worth, humanity and refinement. The boy was but thirteen when his father, in 1798, was called into the naval service of his country in the spi- rited effort made by President Adams to resist the aggressions of France upon the ocean. He took the command of a small frigate, built under his direction in Rhode Island, named the General Greene, and carried with him to sea his son Oliver as a midshipman, at the express solicitation of the youth. The General Greene was actively employed in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, giving all its officers abundant oppor- tunity for practice in the infant service. The French war flurry after awhile blew over, as the Directory, the main- spring of these aggressions, lost power; peace was patched up, and Jefferson shortly after inaugurated an unwhole- some pacific policy by a sweeping reduction of the navy, as if it had not been small enough already. In this mutilating operation the elder Perry was dropped, the younger one fortu- nately retained. The navy, however, was soon revived by the demands of the nation to resist the iniquitous and insulting depreda- tions upon life and property inflicted by the Barbary powers. The United States had borne far too patiently with these injuries, though she had the honor of being in advance of the old powers of Europe in resisting them. The Mediterranean became the scene of many a chivalrous exploit of our early officers, a score of whom headed by Preble, Bainbridge, Decatur, Som- ers, and others of that stamp of fiery and indomitable valor, gained immor- tal laurels in their deeds of daring in conflict with the infidel. The young Perry served as midship man in the frigate Adams, which sailed from Newport, in 1802, to join Com- modore Morris' command at Gibraltar. His ship was for some time employed in blockading a Tripolitan at that port, a tedious but instructive service in ma- noeuvring, at the close of which, Perry, in consequence of his accomplishments, was promoted by his captain to the duties of a lieutenant. The frigate was then employed as a convoy, making the tour of the northern ports. This gave Perry an opportunity to study scenes of the old world, which can never lose their influence in the formation of the man of education and refinement. Cooper, whose eye was always open to every generous influence, notices the effect of this culture of travel to foreign shores. "There is little doubt,'1 says 06 OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. he, " that one of the reasons why the American marine early obtained a thirst for a knowledge that is not uni- formly connected with the pursuits of a seaman, and a taste, which, perhaps, was above the level of that of the gen- tlemen of the country, was owing to the circumstance that the wars with Barbary called its officers so much, at the most critical period of its existence, into that quarter of Europe. ' Travel- lers to the old world were then ex- tremely rare, and the American who, forty years ago, could converse as an eye witness of the marvels of the Medi- terranean—who had seen the remains of Carthage, or the glories of Constan- tinople—who had visited the Coliseum, or was familiar with the affluence of Naples, was more than half the time, in some way or other, connected with the navy." At the close of 1803, Perry returned to America in his ship, under the com- mand of Commodore Morris, and was not again employed in active service till he was sent to the Mediterranean again in the Constellation, which did not reach the scene of hostilities on the African coast, till the more daring ope- rations of the war were over. He returned home at the close of 1806, when he was set upon the construction and equipment of those famous gun- boats, the pet hobby of Jefferson, for home defence, which exacted many a rebellious oath from the blue water sailors, condemned to rust in harbor. But, however distasteful the service may have been, Perry acquitted him- self to the satisfaction of the govern- ment in its prosecution. In 1809, however, Perry got to sea in command of an armed schooner, the Revenge, which was employed on the coast service. While on the south- ern coast, he had an opportunity to gain distinction, which he did not fail to avail himself of, in cutting out a stolen American vessel from under the guns of a British ship in Spanish waters, off Florida. Conveying his prize off the coast, he was threatened by his majesty's ship Goree, of double his force, when, having, as Mackenzie says, "no idea of being ' Leopardized,'" he put his little schooner in readiness for boarding at a moment's notice—a spirited resolution of great bravery, which he would no doubt have carried out, had the British vessel insisted upon overhauling the Revenge. While en- gaged in the cruising off Connecticut and Rhode Island, in the beginning of 1811, he unfortunately lost his vessel through an error of the pilot, on the Watch Hill Reef, opposite Fisher's Island, as he w7as sailing from Newport to New London. Every seamanlike effort was made to save the vessel, and when all was unavailing, Perry showed equal skill and resolution in landing the crew in a heavy January swell, with a violent wind. He was himself the last to leave the vessel. He was not merely acquitted of censure, but his conduct was extolled by a court of inquiry. He was, of course, by the loss of his vessel, thrown temporarily out of com- mand, an interval of repose which he hastened to turn to account by forming a matrimonial alliance with Miss Eliza- beth Champlin Mason, of an influential OLIVER HAZ family, at Newport, to whom he had become engaged several years before, on his arrival from the Mediterranean. The wedding took place in May, 1811, affording him ample opportunity for the honeymoon, previous to the actual outbreak of the war with England now impending. This event found him at Newport, with the rank of master commandant, in charge of the flotilla of gunboats keeping watch in the harbor. It was a service not altogether adapted to satisfy the ambitious spirit of a young officer, but it was important in itself, and became in Perry's hands a step to future eminence. His course, at this time, illustrates a valuable truth, that no honorable employment is profitless to a man of genius. He will in some way turn it to account. Constructing gunboats, and recruiting men in port, were services not calculated to make any great blaze in a dispatch, but they conducted Perry to his glorious bulle- tins of victory, and the resounding praises of the nation. He saw the new field of military operations opening on the lakes, and his experienced eye must have seen as well the certain difficulties as the possi- ble honors of the situation. It was not the post which an officer, with the claims of Perry, would have sought, while brilliant victories were being enacted, in the eye of the world, on the vast theatre of the ocean. Others, however, were before him on that ele- ment. He was emulous of their achievements, but no petty jealousy hindered him from swelling their praises in concert with the national 1RD PERRY. 67 acclamation. Yet he sought employ ment in active service with a restless impulse. Despairing of a command at sea, he offered himself to Commodore Chauncey, who had been recently placed at the head of the lake service. His character was understood by this officer, and the proffer accepted. The necessary communications were made to the government, and in the middle of February, in 1813, he was ordered to join Chauncey at Sackett's Harbor, with the picked men of his Newport flotilla. He lost no time in reporting himself at the appointed spot. His destination was Lake Erie, where he was to supervise the construction of two vessels to be employed in the next campaign, and he was anxious to get to the work; but Chauncey, who felt the need of his aid, detained him for a while on Lake Ontario. He however, towards the end of March, reached Erie, where the vessels were building, under the direction of Noah Brown, the shipwright of New York, and sail- ing master Dobbins, of the navy. His experience in constructing gunboats at Newport was now of avail to him. He put the defence of the works, which had been greatly neglected, in a state of efficiency, and set himself to the collection of supplies, workmen, and an armament: no easy matter at that day and in that place in the wilder- ness ; for such, as compared with our own time, it then was. The labors of Perry, in this work of preparation, were in fact of the most arduous character. They should not be forgot ten as a heavy item to his credit in the sum total of his victory. Three 68 OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. gunboats and two brigs were launched and equipped in May. It was at this time that he received advices that Chauncey was about to make an attack on the British post of Fort George, at the mouth of the Nia- gara river. He had been promised a share in this adventure, and hastened to the scene. The incidents of this journey show the spirit of the man. In his own words, in a letter describing this passage of his life, " on the evening of the twenty-third of May, I received information, about sunset, that Commo- dore Chauncey would in a day or two arrive at Niagara, when an attack would be made on Fort George. He had previously promised me the com- mand of the seamen and marines that might land from the fleet. Without hesitation I determined to join him. * I left Erie about dark in a small four- oared open boat. The night was squally and very dark. After encoun- tering head winds and many difficul- ties, I arrived at Buffalo on the evening of the twenty-fourth, refreshed, and remained there until daylight; I then passed the whole of the British lines in my boat, within musket-shot. Pass- ing Strawberry Island, several people on our side of the river hailed and beckoned me on shore. On landing they pointed out about forty men on the end of Grand Island, who, doubt- less, were placed there to intercept boats. In a few moments I should have been in their hands. I then pro- ceeded with more caution. As we ar- rived at Schlosser, it rained violently. No horse could be procured. I deter- mined to push forward on foot; walked about two miles and a half, when the rain fell in such torrents I was obliged to take shelter in a house at hand. The sailors whom I had left with the boat, hearing of public horses on the commons, determined to catch one for me. They found an old pacing one which could not run away, and brought him in, rigged a rope from the boat into a bridle, and borrowed a saddle without either stirrup, girth, or crup- per. Thus accoutred they pursued me, and found me at the house where I had stopped. The rain ceasing, I mounted; my legs hung down the sides of the horse, and I was obliged to steady the saddle by holding by the mane. In this style I entered the camp, it raining again most violently. Colonel Porter being the first to discover me, insisted upon my taking his horse, as I had some distance to ride to the other end of the camp, off which the Madison lay." Having thus reached headquarters, arrangements were rapidly made, and the landing of the troops assigned to Perry. In the ignorance or inexperi- ence of some of the officers, there wag considerable confusion in directing the boats in the river, which was remedied by Perry's vigilance and decision. He was everywhere, in the midst of danger, guiding and directing; the unexpected attack of the British was met by his energy, the landing effected, and the object of the expedition accomplished. This victory opened the port of Black Rock, where several American vessels were collected, which Perry undertook to get into Lake Erie against the strong current of the river, a feat which was OLIVER HAZARD PERRY 69 accomplished with extraordinary fa- tigue ; so that he returned to his sta- tion, at Erie, with a respectable addi- tion of five vessels to his own newly launched little fleet in that harbor. To one of the vessels which he had built, a name was given by a disaster which saddened the heart of the country. An order from the rfavy de- partment assigned the name of the gal- lant Lawrence, who had fallen on the first of June, on the deck of the Ches- apeake. It was with the dying excla- mation of Lawrence, as we shall see, that Perry led his fleet into action. There was some delay in gathering men and materials of war in the har- bor, locked in by the inclosing penin- sula, and half closed at its mouth by a bar which seemed an equal defence to the force within and the enemy with- out. A reinforcement of men at last arrived, when Perry, though by no means provided with all or what he could have wished, urged by the de- mands of General Harrison, in the upper country, for aid, and the advance of the season, determined upon going into action at the earliest moment. The British commander, Captain Bar- clay, a gallant officer who had seen much service, expected an easy prey while the vessels were embarrassed on the bar; and he might have enjoyed it under a less vigilant opponent. It is said that the English captain was drawn off to an entertainment on shore, the Sunday afternoon when Per- ry, by the aid of camels floated under the brigs, diminishing the draught, conducted the operations which ended in getting his fleet fairly afloat. More il—9 than a month was now passed in watch- ing the enemy and seeking an engage- ment, during which Perry was strength- ened by a reinforcement brought from Lake Ontario by Captain Jesse D. El- liott, and the British added to their force their new vessel, the Detroit, at Maiden. Perry watched the enemy from the islands in the neighborhood of this place, at the head of the lake, and from the near harbor of Sandusky. The day of the threatened engage- ment at length came, the tenth of Sep- tember. The American force was com- posed of the brigs Lawrence and Niagara, of twenty guns each, com- manded respectively by Perry and El- liott, and seven smaller vessels number- ing in all fifty-four guns. Captain Barclay, on the other side, had the De- troit, of nineteen guns, the Queen Charlotte, Lady Prevost, and three other vessels, numbering altogether sixty- three guns.1 The range of the enemy's guns gave them the advantage at a dis- tance, when the corresponding Ameri- can fire was ineffectual. The Ameri- cans, too, were under a disadvantage in the enfeebled state of the crew, by the general illness which prevailed among them from the season of the year, the climate, or the unwholesome- ness of the water. The British force had undoubtedly the superiority in trained men as compared with Perry's extemporized miscellaneous command, and untried junior officers. The latter proved, however, to be of the right material. On the morning of the engagement 1 Cooper's Naval Biography, memoir of Perry. 7U OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. the American fleet was among the is- lands off Maiden at Put-in Bay, when the British fleet bore up. There was some difficulty at first in clearing the islands, and the nature of the wind seemed likely to throw Perry upon the defensive, when a southeast breeze springing up, enabled him to bear down upon the enemy. This was at ten o'clock of a fine autumnal morning. Perry arranged his vessels in line, tak- ing the lead in his flagship, the Law- rence, on which he now raised the sig- nal for action, a blue flag, inscribed in large white letters, with the words of the dying Lawrence, " Don't give up the ship !" He accompanied this move- ment with an appeal to his men. " My brave lads, this flag contains the last words of Captain Lawrence. Shall I hoist it ?" " Ay ay, sir !" was the wil- ling response. In this way he cheered the men in the awful pause, " a dead silence of an hour and a half," preced- ing the action, for the vessels were long in the light breeze in overcoming the intermediate distance of several miles. " This is the tune," says Wash- ington Irving, in his narrative, written shortly after the day, " when the stout- est heart beats quick, and ' the boldest holds his breath;' it is the still mo- ment of direful expectation—of fearful • looking out for slaughter and destruc- tion—when even the glow of pride and ambition is chilled for a while, and nature shudders at the awful jeop- ardy of existence. The very order and regularity of naval discipline heighten the dreadful quiet of the moment. No bustle, no noise prevails to distract the mind, except at intervals the shrill pip- ing of the boatswain's whistle, or a murmuring whisper among the men, who, grouped around their guns, ear- nestly regard the movements of the foe, now and then stealing a wistful glance at the countenances of their commanders." Perry, who knew the perils of the day, prepared his papers as if for death. He leaded the public documents in readiness to be cast overboard, and, a touching trait of these moments, gave a hurried perusal to his wife's letters, and tore them to pieces lest they should be read by the enemy. The awful silence is suddenly bro- ken by a bugle sounded on board the Detroit, and the cheers of the British seamen. A shot from that vessel fell short of its mark. The Lawrence bears on to meet the fire, accompanied by the other vessels of the command in appointed order, each destined for its appropriate antagonist. At noon the British fire, from the superior long guns, was telling fearfully on the Ame- rican force, when Perry made all sail for close quarters, bringing the Law- rence within reach of the Detroit. He maintained a steady, well-directed fire from his carronades, assisted by the Scorpion and Ariel. The destruction on the deck of the Lawrence was fear- ful. Out of a hundred well men, says Mackenzie, who had gone into action, twenty two were killed and sixty-one wounded. We shall not in- sult the humanity of the reader by the details of this fearful carnage. It has probably never been exceeded in the terrors of the " dying deck," in naval warfare. OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. 71 In trie midst of this storm of con- flict, Perry, finding his ship getting disabled, and seeing the Niagara un- injured at a safe distance, resolved to change his flag to that vessel. He had half a mile to traverse, exposed to the fire of the enemy in an open boat. Nothing deterred, with the ex- clamation, "If a victory is to be gained I'll gain it," he made the pas- sage, part of the time standing as a target for the hostile guns. Fifteen minutes were passed exposed to this plunging fire, which splintered the oars and covered the boat with spray. The Lawrence, stripped of officers and men, was compelled to surrender. Perry instantly bore up to the De- troit, the guns of which were plied re- solutely, when she became entangled with her consort, the Queen Charlotte, and the Niagara poured a deadly fire into both vessels. This cannonade de- cided the battle in seven minutes, when the enemy surrendered. The American loss in this engagement was twenty-seven killed and ninety-six wounded ; that of the British forty-one killed and ninety-four wounded.1 Gal- lant actions were performed and noble men fell on both sides. It was every way a splendid victory, placing the genius of Perry and his magnanimous, spirited ' conduct throughout, in the highest rank of naval exertion. The memorable letters, brief, at once eloquent and modest, which he wrote that afternoon announcing his victory, are too characteristic to be omitted in any personal account of the man. Ad- 1 Mackenzie's Life of Perry, I. 221-253. dressing General Harrison, he writes: " Dear General—We have met the ene- my and they are ours. Two ships, two brigs, one schooner and one sloop Yours, with very great respect and es- teem. O. II. Perry." The other was to the Secretary of the Navy: " Sir, it has pleased the Almighty to give to the arms of the United States a signal victory over their enemies on this lake. The British squadron, consist- ing of two ships, two brigs, one schooner and one sloop, have this mo- ment surrendered to the force under my command, after a sharp conflict. I have the honor to be, sir, very respect- fully, your obedient servant. O. H. Perry." In consonance with this sim- ple eloquence, the mark of a master mind, was his chivalrous care of his wounded and conduct toward his pris- oners. Let the pen of Washington Irving bear witness at this time to the character of Perry as a gentleman, that highest style of man. In the contemporary narrative already cited he says: " Com- modore Perry, like most of our naval officers, is yet in the prime of youth. He is of a manly and prepossessing ap- pearance ; mild and unassuming in his address, amiable in his disposition, and of great firmness and decision. Though early launched among- the familiar scenes of naval life—and nowhere is familiarity more apt to be licentious and encroaching—yet the native gen- tility and sober dignity of his deport- ment, always chastened, without re- straining the freedom of intimacy. It is pleasing thus to find public services accompanied by private virtues; to 73 OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. discover no drawbacks on our esteem7 no base alloy in the man we are dis- posed to admire; but a character full of moral excellence, of high-minded courtesy, and pure, unsullied honor." The victory having been gained, and the lake thus cleared of the foe, Perry was enabled to act in concert with General Harrison in driving the British from Michigan; and when his fleet was of no avail to follow them in their rapid flight, he joined that officer's land expedition, and was present, acting as his aid, at the battle of the Thames. " The appearance of the brave commo- dore," writes Harrison in his official report, " cheered and animated every heart." Perry also gained the grati- tude of the Moravians in whose dis- trict the contest took place, by his care in relieving the inevitable evils of war. He met everywhere on his homeward route with complimentary toasts and resolutions, gathering volume as he reached his native State, where he was received at Newport with military and civic honors. The city of New York paid him a grateful attention in a re- quest communicated by De Witt Clin- ton, then mayor, to sit for his portrait for the civic gallery. The portrait was painted by Jarvis, representing him in the act of boarding the Niagara, and is preserved in the City Hall. He was created an honorary member of the Cincinnati; Congress voted him a medal and money; he was dined and feasted and " blazed the comet of the season." In one of the letters of Judge Story, always a genial observant of what was passing before him, there is characteris- tic mention of one of those festival scenes at Baltimore. " It so happened," says he, "that in the evening of our arrival there was a ball given in honor of Commodore Perry, and the mana- gers politely sent invitations to all oui party. Fatigued as we were, we deter- mined to attend. The scene was truly splendid: at one end of the room there was a transparent painting repre- senting the battle, and on a given sig- nal the British flag was struck and the American soon after hoisted in its stead. The shouts and clapping were loud and reiterated. One impulse of joy and congratulation seized every heart. One person only seemed silent in the scene. It was the Commodore himself. He is a very handsome, intel- ligent, modest gentleman, and bears his unequalled honors meekly and calmly. He is scarcely turned of twen- ty-eight years, and yet has all the self- command of fifty."1 Perry's next service was in August, 1814, in command of the Java, 44, a frigate recently built at Baltimore. He was, however, not able to get to sea, in consequence of the blockade by the enemy. On the conclusion of peace he sailed in this vessel to join Commodore Shaw's squadron in the Mediterranean. The cruise had the usual incidents of this service, with one of an unpleasant nature in the quarrel or exercise of a fit of passion of Perry towards an offi- cer of marines named Heath. Unhap- pily, Perry, who was provoked by his inefficiency, and what he thought his disrespectful conduct, struck the infe- rior officer a blow. Instead of beiu" 1 Life and Letters of Joseph Story, I 250-1. OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. 73 settled on the spot, as such things should be, it was suffered to remain and rankle, little mitigated by a court martial, which censured both parties, till it subsequently ended in a duel in America. It was fought in October, 1818, at Weehawken, the ground where. the life of Hamilton was sacrificed, De- catur acting as Perry's second. • Perry gave the meeting as a compensation to an officer whom he had injured, while he forbore to return his antagonist's fire. The circumstances were then stated on the field by Decatur, and the matter ended. Perry sailed in the following year, as commodore in command of the John Adams, for the West Indies, bound for the state of Venezuela, to carry on an armed negotiation for the protection of American commerce from aggressions in that quarter. Arriving at the mouth of the Orinoco, he shifted his flag to the Nonsuch, and ascended the river to the capital, Angostura, where he re- mained twenty days, transacting his business in the height of the yellow fever season. His vessel had hardly left the river, on her way to Trinidad, when he was attacked. For nearly a week he suffered the progress of the terrible disease on board the small schooner, under a tropical sun, when he reached the station wither he had sent his flagship, the Adams. But he reached port only to die at sea, within a mile of the anchorage, on the 23d of August, 1819, when he had just com- pleted his thirty-fourth year. Such and so early was the fate of the gallant Perry. His remains were interred from the John Adams at Port Spain, with every attention by the English governor. Subsequently they were brought home in a national vessel by order of Congress, and reinterred at the public expense in the cemetery at Newport. The country also provided for the support of his family. If ever America produced a man whom the nation delighted to honor, it was Perry. The reason is not far to seek. We may read it in his frank, generous, handsome countenance, the type of the manly sailor—in his rare valor, his re- sources in difficulty, his chivalrous conduct—in a word, his humanity. The public seldom makes a mistake in the bestowal of its affections. It de- tects by an unerring instinct the man of heart, of true bravery and worth, of noble impulses. Of a temper sometimes violent, Perry's breast was filled with the gentlest emotions. He had the sen- timent of a knight of the olden time for woman, and a proportionate purity, courtesy, and manly courage in his life. He was an ardent lover of his friends, and his native State, which justly holds him in beloved veneration. In person, he was remarkable in early life, as we have noticed, for his beauty. His voice is spoken of as pe- culiarly ■ clear and agreeable. The ex- pression of his well-formed mouth was highly pleasing. Indeed his whole ap- pearance betokened health and happi- ness. JAMES LAWRENCE. Captain" James Lawrence was one of that band of chivalrous spirits who, concentrating all their life in the work, with insufficient means, in the face of powerful enemies, raised our infant navy in an instant, as it were, to an honored rank in the world. The force and energy of the free national development were felt in the spontaneous movement that placed so many ardent, courageous spirits at the service of the country. These men, Barry, Barney, Decatur, Bain- bridge, Perry, Somers, and the rest— the list is a long one—were volunteers in the cause, fighting more for glory than for pay. Such spirits were not to be hired ; theirs was no mercenary ser- vice. It was limited by no prudential considerations. They went forth singly or united, the commissioned champions of the nation, with their lives in their hands, ready to sacrifice themselves in that cause. Punctilious on all points of honor, they sought but one reward, victory. There was but one thing for them to do—to conquer; and failing that, to die. Of these fiery-souled he- roes, who carried their country in their hearts, the men of courtesy and cou- rage, of equal humanity and bravery, true sons of chivalry, Lawrence will ever be ranked among the noblest. 74 He was born October 1, 1781, at Burlington, on the banks of the Dela- ware, in New Jersey. His father, John Lawrence, was an eminent counsellor at law at that place. The death of his mother, shortly after his birth, threw the charge of the child upon his elder sisters, by whom he was tenderly cared for. His disposition answered to this gentle culture. The boy was dutiful and affectionate, amiable in disposition and agreeable in manners. Such a soil is peculiarly favorable to the growth of the manly virtues where nature has assisted by her generous physical gifts. The bravest men have often been the gentlest. It is the union of the two conditions which, as in Sir Philip Sid- ney, makes the perfect warrior. Young Lawrence early showed a liking for the sea, and would have led a life on the waters from the age of twelve, had not his father firmly turned his attention to books and education. It was his intention to prepare him for his own profession, the law, and his desire that he should enjoy the usual preparatory finished education. This was, however, prevented by his pecu- niary misfortunes, and the youth passed from his primary school at once to the law office of his brother, John Law- rence, then residing at Woodbury. He JAMES LAWRENCE. 75 spent two years in this situation, be- tween thirteen and fifteen, or there- about, vainly endeavoring to reconcile his humors to the onerous duties of the unwelcome position. Washington Ir- ving, in the account of the life of Law- rence published immediately after his lamented death, writes with fellow-feel- ing on this subject, for he had himself experienced the same distastes. " The dry study of statutes and reporters," says he, " the technical rubbish and dull routine of a lawyer's office, were little calculated to please an imagina- tion teeming with the adventures, the wonders and variety of the seas." He had not long, at any rate, to endure the privation. The death of his father left him in a measure free to follow his own inclinations, and his brother, per- ceiving his strong bent for the sea, placed him under the care of a Mr. Griscomb, at Burlington, to study navi- gation, evidently with a view to enter the naval service of the country, for we find him, after a brief three months' instruction, in possession of a midship- man's warrant. This was dated Sep- tember 4,1798, the year when Congress seriously directed its attention to the protection of our commerce, then so wantonly pillaged by the two great belligerents of Europe, by the creation of a distinct navy department, and the enlargement of our naval force. The movement was specially directed to the French aggressions on the Atlantic and in the Mediterranean. Indeed, in all but the name, war existed with France. It was called a quasi war. Lawrence's first service was a cruise to the West Indies, in the Ganges, a twenty-four gun ship, then commanded by Captain Tingey. He showed in this and other voyages such aptitude for his duties that he was made an acting lieutenant by his commander previous to his receiving his commission from Government. In 1802 he was appoint- ed first lieutenant in the Enterprise, of 12 guns, one of the fleet of Commodore Morris, sent to the Mediterranean to prosecute the war with Tripoli. He par- ticularly distinguished himself in that service, by his adventures with Lieuten- ant David Porter, of the New York, in an attack in open day on certain coasters or feluccas laden with wheat, which took refuge in Old Tripoli, where they were defended by a land force. The attack was made in boats, at close quarters, under a heavy fire of the ene- my. The object does not appear a very great one, nor was it one likely to secure any lasting renown except to those engaged in it; it was of great peril and gallantry, and showed a spirit equal to any undertaking. There is often more real bravery and heroism exhibited in these little voluntary en- terprises, both inland and at sea, than in the greater and more brilliant ac- tions of war, where much is left to chance, and where the indecision even of cowards may be forced into some display in the general excitement. Lawrence had a second opportunity of distinguishing himself in this war in an action likely to be better remem- bered by the public, the glorious ad- venture of Decatur in the destruction of the wrecked and captured Philadel- phia, in the harbor of Tripoli, in Feb- ruary, 1804. This vessel, it will be JAMES LAWRENCE. remembered, fell into the hands of the enemy in consequence of running on a shoal at the entrance of the harbor, when she was exposed to a furious fire of the enemy without opportunity of defence, and was surrendered at the last moment of endurance by Bain- bridge and his crew, who became pris- oners. To recover or destroy this ves- sel, which was a prize greatly valued by the Tripolitans, and well protected by their forts and gunboats in the har- bor, was a fascinating service for the gallant sjDirits of the navy. Decatur, then in command of the Enterprise, among others, was eager for the em- ployment, and it was intrusted to him by Commodore Preble. His crew were placed on board his prize, the Mastico, an old French gunboat which he had captured from the Tripolitans, and every man was allowed to volunteer, a privilege which no one declined to avail himself of. The history of this adventure will Be found in the life of Decatur, and it is not necessary here to repeat it. Lawrence was the first lieutenant of that officer, in this bril- liant adventure, and shared its full dangers and glories—if we may except the paltry return proffered him by Congress in two months' additional pay, which, with the spirit of a hero capable of taking part in such a daring enterprise, he at once declined. Lawrence was also engaged in the Enterprise in Preble's bombardment of Tripoli, the same year. He returned in the winter to the United States, with that commodore, in the John Ad- ams. In the following spring of 1805, Lawrence successfully carried across the Atlantic one of the fleet of gun- boats, No. 6 of which he was comman- der, destined for service in the Medi- terranean. It was a small vessel, mounting two guns, not at all adapted for ocean navigation. The voyage was looked upon as a marvel. When near the Western Islands, Mr. Cooper, in his "Naval History," tells he "fell in with the British frigate Lapwing, 28, Captain Upton, which ran for him under the impression that the gunboat was some wrecked mariners on a raft, there being a great show of canvas and apparently no hull." Another in- cident of the voyage, indignantly relat- ed by Cooper, is characteristic of the times. " On the 12 th of June, No. 6 fell in with the fleet of Admiral Col- lingwood, off Cadiz, and while Mr. Lawrence was on board one of the British ships, a boat was sent and took three men out of No. 6, under the pre- tence that they were Englishmen. On his return to his own vessel, Mr. Law- rence hauled down his ensign, but no notice was taken of the proceeding by the British. It is a fitting commentary on this transaction (continues Mr. Cooper), that, in the published letters of Lord Colling wood, where he speaks of the impressment of Americans, he says that England would not submit to such an aggression for an hour." After the war with Tripoli was end- ed, Lawrence returned to the United States, and in the interval when the war with England, after the affair with the Leopard and Chesapeake was daily becoming more imminent, we find him, in 1808, appointed first lieutenant of the Constitution. About the same JAMES LAWRENCE. 77 time he married Miss Montaudevert, the daughter of a respectable merchant of New York. He was on duty in the Vixen, Wasp, and Argus; and, at the commencement of the war of 1812, was promoted to the command of the Hornet. While in this last vessel he sailed with Bainbridge, who had the flag-ship Constitution, on a cruise along the coast of South America, and, hav- ing occasion to look in at the port of San Salvador, found there the British sloop of war Bonne Citoyenne, of 18 guns, ready to sail for England with a large amount of specie. Lawrence, whose ship mounted an equal number of guns, was exceedingly anxious to engage with this vessel. He sent a challenge to its commander, Captain Green, through the American consul, inviting him to " come out," and pledg- ing his honor that neither the Constitu- tion, nor any other American vessel, should interfere, which Commodore Bainbridge seconded by promising to be out of the way, or at least non-combat- ant. The English captain replied, through the consul of his country, not as he should have done, by objecting to expose his ship and its valuable cargo to a hazard not jjrovided for in his orders, but by doubting whether Commodore Bainbridge would be able to preserve his neutrality under the circumstances; he was of opinion, that officer " could not reserve so much from the paramount duty he owes to his country, as to become an inactive spec- tator, and see a ship belonging to the very squadron under his orders, fall ii»to the hands of an enemy"—for of his power to secure a victor)- he professed ii.—10 not to entertain the least doubt. It was an unhappy precedent which Law- rence thus established, injurious to the service and destined to act fatally against himself in the end, when from the challenger he became the challenged. The Constitution meanwhile sailed away, to close the year with her bril- liant engagement with the Java, leav- ing the Hornet engaged in the block ade of the Bonne Citoyenne. Eigh teen days since the departure of the flag-ship had passed, while her consort was thus engaged, waiting till her ex- pected prize should issue from the har- bor, when the Hornet was robbed of her chances of victory by the arrival of his majesty's seventy-four, the Mon- tague. Escape now became the policy of Lawrence, who luckily managed to get from the harbor in safety, and turned his course to the northward, along the coast. While cruising in this direction, after capturing a small English brig, he fell in with, on the 24th of February, 1813, off the mouth of the Demarara, two brigs of war, with one of which, the Hornet, Cap- tain Peake, he speedily became engaged. The American vessel on this occasion had the advantage in armament; her force being 18 thirty-two pound carron- ades, and two long twelves, against 16 twenty-four pound carronades and some smaller guns, while there was little dis- parity in the number of men, the Brit- ish vessel numbering one hundred and thirty, her adversary reporting one hundred and thirty-five fit for duty. The action was fought in the afternoon. In the words of Lawrence's dispatch, which gives a modest and forcible ac- 7S JAMES LAWRENCE. count of the affair, after mentioning his attempt to get at the first vessel he discovered at anchor off the bar, he says—"At half past three, p.m., I dis- covered another sail on my weather quarter, edging down for us. At twen- ty minutes past four she hoisted Eng- lish colors, at which time we discovered her to be a large man-of-war brig; beat to quarters and cleared ship for action; kept close by the wind, in order, if possible, to get the weather- gage. At ten minutes past five, finding I could weather the enemy, I hoisted American colors and tacked. At twen- ty minutes past five, in passing each other, exchanged broadsides within half pistol shot. Observing the enemy in the act of wearing, I bore up, re- ceived his starboard broadside, ran him close on board on the starboard quar- ter, and kept up such a heavy and well directed fire, that in less than fifteen minutes he surrendered, being literally cut to pieces, and hoisted an ensign, union down, from his fore rigging, as a signal of distress." The hull of the Peacock was so rid- dled that she sank, while every exer- tion was made by her captors to save her by throwing over her guns and stopping the shot-holes. Nine of her crew went down with her, and three of the Hornet's men. Captain Peake was found dead on board. The loss of the Hornet was trifling compared with that of her adversary; but one man killed and four wounded or in- jured, one of whom afterwards died. This superiority is attributed by Coop- er, who sums up the testimony, " to the superior gunnery and rapid handling of the Hornet." Everything was done in the first place to save the lives of the prisoners from the sinking ship, and in the second, to administer to their comforts. As the action was fought near the shore, the vessel set- tlino- in only five and a half fathoms water, four of her men were taken off the foretop after she sunk. The sailors of the Hornet supplied their captives with clothing from their own ward- robes, and aided them by a subscrip- tion. Lawrence carried his ship in safety, now crowded with her crew and prisoners, through the West Indies, bringing her on the 19th March to Holmes' Hole, in Martha's Vineyard, whence he got in safety through Long Island Sound to New York. There the officers of the Peacock made a pub- lic acknowledgment to Lawrence in the newspapers, of the kind and gen- erous treatment they had received from him. " So much was done," said they, " to alleviate the distressing and un- comfortable situation in which we were placed, when received on board the sloop you command, that we cannot better express our feelings than by say- ing * we ceased to consider ourselves prisoners,' and everything that friend- ship could dictate was adopted by you." This victory brought Lawrence a harvest of honors, public and private. Before he sailed, he had felt called upon to protest to the Secretary of the Navy against what he thought an in- justice done him in the promotion of a younger officer to a captaincy, while he remained simply lieutenant commander He now found that the promotion had JAMES LAWRENCE. 79 been conferred upon him in his absence, and was offered the command of the Constitution. He would have been pleased to sail in this vessel, but, much to his annoyance, immediately after re- ceiving the appointment was ordered to the Chesapeake, then lying at Bos- ton. The latter was considered an un- lucky ship, while the former was pecu- liarly fortunate. No ship probably ever raised a greater crop of glory for a series of commanders than " Old Iron- sides." No one has so ill a name in the service as the Chesapeake. Both Irving and Cooper have dwelt upon this unhappy condition. " Lawrence," says the former," was prejudiced against the Chesapeake, both from her being considered the worst ship in our navy, and from having been in a manner dis- graced in the affair with the Leopard. This last circumstance had acquired her the character of an unlucky ship— the worst of stigmas among sailors, who are devout believers in good and bad luck; and so detrimental was it to this vessel, that it has been found difficult to recruit crews for her." Cooper tells us in addition that on her return to Boston from her last cruise, the .Chesapeake lost a topmast, and several men who were aloft at the time were drowned. " Whatever reason may teach men," he adds, " on such subjects, facts and superstition are usually found to furnish more arguments than logic and common sense." Captain Lawrence took the command of the Chesapeake at Boston, towards the end of May, 1813. The Shannon frigate, Captain Broke, a superior ves- sel of the British navy, had been for some time off the port, and her com- mander, assured of his strength, was desirous of a conflict. The President and Congress had escaped the Shannon and her consort, and the former was now alone, waiting the exit of the Chesapeake. On the morning of the first of June, this vessel appeared off the harbor, signalling the Chesapeake, or challenging her to an engagement. This was understood by Lawrence, and was no doubt the intention of Captain Broke, who had already sent a chal- lenge in a letter to the American com- mander, which, landed at Salem, did not reach Boston till after the action. In this communication he stated ex- actly the force of his vessel, gave assur- ance of the absence of any interfering ships of the squadron, proposed liberal accommodations for the place and time of meeting, and urged the invitation upon the " personal ambition " of Law- rence. " You will feel it as a compli ment," he wrote, " if I say, that the result of our meeting may be the most grateful service I can render to my country: and I doubt not that you, equally confident of success, will feel convinced that it is only by triumphs in equal combats that your little navy can now hope to console your country for the loss of that trade it can no longer protect." It would be complimenting the valor of Lawrence at the expense of his judg- ment, if we were to pronounce him ar dent for the fight, with the circum stances under which it took place. In fact, as Mr. Cooper states, " he went into the engagement with strong reluc- tance, on account of the peculiar state «W JAMES LAWRENCE. of his crew. He had himself joined the vessel only a few days before; her proper first lieutenant, Mr. O. A. Page, of Virginia, an officer of experience, was ill on shore, and died soon after in Boston ; the acting first lieutenant, Mr. Augustus Ludlow, of New York, though an officer of merit, was a very young man, and was in an entirely novel situation, and there was but one other commissioned sea officer in the ship, two of the midshipmen acting as third and fourth lieutenants, and now performing this duty for the first time. One, if not both of these young gentle- men, had also just joined the ship, fol- lowing the captain from the Hornet. In addition, the Chesapeake had an unusual number of landsmen in her, and of mercenaries, among whom was a boatswain's mate, a Portuguese, who was found to be particularly trouble- some." There was, moreover, some disaffection among the crew from the prize money of the last cruise not hav- ing been paid. The challenging vessel, on the contrary, carried a picked crew, with every advantage of discipline and equipment, or her commander would have been the most foolhardy desper- ado in the world to provoke an engage- ment. The presumption, of course, is, that he was fully prepared. The arma- ment of the two vessels was about equal, mounting forty-nine guns each. At noon, then, on the first of June, Lawrence weighed anchor and left his station in the bay to proceed to sea with a southwesterly breeze. The Shannon was in sight, and the two ships stood off the shore till about half past four in the afternoon, when the Chesapeake fired a gun, which was the signal for a series of manoeuvres, bringing the vessels within range of each other about a quarter before six. The Shannon hove to, and the Chesa- peake bore down towards her. It was Lawrence's intention to bring his ship fairly alongside of the enemy for a full discharge of his battery. He conse- quently first received the enemy's fire from the cabin guns, as, the wind hav- ing freshened, his ship came up to mea- sure her length with her antagonist, which lay with her head to the south- east. Then the Chesapeake poured in her full fire, inflicting considerable damage, which was repeated in the successive discharges for several min- utes. In this commencement of the action it was considered that the Shan- non received most injury, particularly in her hull. Unhappily the Chesa- peake in turn lost the command of her sails. Her fore-topsail tie and jib sheet were shot away; the spanker brails were loosened, and the sail blew out. The ship was consequently brought up into the wind, when, taken aback, she got sternway and fell aboard of the enemy, with her mizzen rigging foul of the Shannon's fore chains.1 This acci- dent exposed the Chesapeake to a rak- ing fire, which swept her deck, and, as she was already deprived of the servi- ces of the officers who had fallen* in the first discharges, her guns in turn were deserted by the men. Captain Lawrence had already received a wound in the leg, his first lieutenant, Ludlow, was wounded, the sailing-master was 1 Cooper's Naval History, II. 103. I JAMES LAWRENCE. 81 killed, and other important officers were mortally wounded. As the ships became entangled, Lawrence gave or- ders to summon the boarders, who were ready below; but unhappily the negro, whose duty it was to call them up by his bugle, was too much fright- ened to sound a note. A verbal mes- sage was sent, and before it could be executed Lawrence was a second time struck, receiving a grapeshot in his body. The deck was thus left with no officer above the rank of a midship- man. The men of the Shannon now poured in and gained possession of the vessel. As Lawrence was borne below, mortally wounded, his dying thoughts were of his command, uttering his order not to strike the flag of his ship, or some equivalent expression, wdiich is handed down in the popular phrase, " Don't give up the ship!" He lin- gered and died of his wounds on board on the sixth of June. The Chesapeake was carried into Halifax, and there the re iains of her gallant captain were borne from the frigate with military honors, with every mark of respect which a generous enemy could pay to a fallen hero. His remains were soon after brought to Salem under a flag of truce, by a crew of masters of vessels who sailed for the purpose from that port. The funeral honors were renewed and. a eulogy delivered by Judge Story. Once more were these sad rites repeat- ed when the hero was finally entombed at New York, in the graveyard at Tri- nity, where an appropriate monument, by the side of the porch, records the life and death of the youthful hero of the Chesapeake. The character of Lawrence may best be summed up in the sailor's eulogy of a kindred spirit, the chivalrous De- catur. When that officer, with whom the deceased had been so honorably associated in the Mediterranean before Tripoli, was asked, " whether his intrin- sic merit as an officer justified the en- thusiastic veneration in which the nation held his memory," he is said to have answered, after a short pause, ' Yes, sir, it did; and the fellow died 'as well as he lived; but he inspired all about him with ardor; he always saw the best thing to be done; he knew the best way to execute it; and had no more dodge in him than the main- mast." 1 To this characteristic eulogy may be added the impartial estimate of Cooper • " James Lawrence was a man of noble stature and fine personal appearance. He had the air and manner of a gentle- manlike sailor, and was much beloved by his friends. He was quick and im- petuous in his feelings, and sometimes manifested it on the quarter deck ; but in all critical situations his coolness was remarkable. He was a perfect man-of-war's man, and an excellent quarter-deck seaman, handling his ves- sel not only skilfully, but with all the style of the profession. In his feelings and sentiments he was chivalrous, gen erous and just." 1 The Naval Monuments of the Last War, etc. p. 68. Boston, 181G. THOMAS MACDONOUGH. Thomas Macdo^ougit, the hero of Lake Champlain, was born in New- castle County, Delaware, on the twenty- third of December, 1783. He was the son of Thomas Macdonough, an eminent physician, who resided on a farm at the place just mentioned, and who, on the breaking out of the Revo- lutionary war, was appointed major of a regiment raised by the State. He retired from the army, and after peace was declared, held the office of a judge. Two of his sons entered the navy. One, named James, was a midshipman with Commodore Truxton in 1799, in the victorious action of the Constella- tion writh the French frigate l'lnsur- gente, and was one of the three men wounded. His foot was shot off, and the necessary amputation of his leg in consequence caused his retirement from the service. It was about the time of this en- gagement that his brother Thomas en- tered the service as a midshipman. •We are without details of his early ipprenticeship, but first hear of him on active duty in connection with the Tripolitan war in 1804, when he was one of the adventurous picked party in the ketch with Decatur and Law- rence, engaged in the burning of the Phi- ladelphia in the harbor—an event al- ready fully spoken of in the biogra- phical notices of the chief officers just mentioned. Macdonough had escaped being taken prisoner in that ship, with Bainbridge and his crew, in con- sequence of being left at Gibraltar in charge of the Barbary prize, the Me- shoba. In the duty at the destruction of the Philadelphia, he was assigned his post on board the attacking vessel in the division of Lawrence. Macdonough at this time ranked as a midshipman; but he was speedily promoted, and in 1806 we hear of him as first lieutenant of the Siren, Captain John Smith, at Gibraltar. An event of that time and place shows the spirit of the youthful officer and the determi- nation thus early evinced in the navy in regard to a system of aggression which was to lose none of its attendant odium by further practice. We allude to the right of search claimed by Eng- lish officers, which, on this occasion at least, was bravely resisted. The cir- cumstances were these. In the absence of Captain Smith on shore one fore- noon, a merchant brig, hoisting the flag of the United States, came into port and anchored in the neighborhood of the Siren. Presently a boat was seen to proceed from a British frigate and bear away with her a man from ^ k THOMAS MJ the brig. Macdonough's suspicions were aroused, and on inquiry con- firmed. An American citizen had been claimed and impressed. On the instant, just as the boat with the prisoner reached the British vessel, Macdon- ough was alongside and rescued the captive, bearing him away to the Siren. The next incident, which immediately followed, was the arrival of the British captain, loudly demanding from the lieutenant how he dared to take a man from a boat of his majesty's vessel. To this Macdonough answered that he was responsible to his superior officer, and that the question should be ad- dressed to him. The Englishman there- upon threatened to take the man by force, and haul the frigate alongside the Siren, which carried only sixteen guns. The lieutenant answered that he supposed it possible for him to sink the vessel; but as long as she was afloat the man would not be surren- dered. " You are a very young and a very indiscreet young man," said the captain. " Suppose I had been in the boat, what would you have done?" " I would have taken the man or lost my life." "What, sir, would you at- tempt to stop me if I were now to attempt to impress men from that brig ?" " I would ; and to convince yourself I would, you have only to make the at- tempt." The Englishman thereupon left the vessel, and when he was seen making in the direction of the brig, Macdonough was in pursuit in a boat of armed men. The English officer re- turned to his vessel, and Captain Smith, on hearing the circumstances, approved of the conduct of his lieutenant. 83 While in the Mediterranean, Macdo- nough had another and still more criti- cal opportunity of exhibiting his per- sonal prowess in an encounter with some desperadoes at Messina. While the American fleet lay at this port, he was detained one night on shore till all the ship's boats had returned to the fleet. He then hired a boat to carry him, when three, instead of the usual number, two, insisted upon accompany- ing him. Suspecting some mischief, he resisted, when all three attacked him. With his back to a door, he defended himself against their united effort, wounding two and pursuing the third so resolutely that he took refuge on the roof of the barracks, whence he was compelled to leap, and killed himself in the fall.1 We hear little of Macdonough after these scenes in the Mediterranean, till his eminent service on Lake Champlain in the brilliant action which he fought toward the close of the struggle with England. The scene of this engage- ment, in a region consecrated to death and victory by the struggles of the pre- vious great wars with France, in the old colonial times, and the succeeding Revolutionary conflict, gives to the bat- tle of Plattsburg a peculiar interest. In defiance of fatal precedents and the memorable disaster of Burgoyne, it ap- peared to be the intention of the Brit ish in Canada to attempt another inva- sion of the heart of the State of New York. The defensive force was small, and with the facility of approach by the lake, offered a strong temptation to 1 Life of Macdonough, Analectic Magazine and Nava; Chronicle, March, 1816. CDONOUGH. 81 THOMAS MACDONOUGH. the attacking army. On the first of September, 1814, Sir George Prevost crossed the frontier from Montreal with a force stated at twelve thousand men. He advanced towards Plattsburg, where General Macomb was intrenched on the Saranac with some fifteen hundred effective defenders, who were joined, as the conflict became imminent, by a considerable number of New York and Vermont militiamen, who hastened to the spot. The plan of the British commander was to unite a land and water attack. His fleet on the lake was to support his army on shore. The naval defences of Lake Cham- plain were intrusted to Macdonough. They consisted, at the time of the ac- tion, of fourteen vessels, mounting in all eighty-six guns, and manned by about eight hundred and fifty men, all told. Of these vessels, four only were of any considerable size, the rest being galleys or gunboats. The largest ves- sel, the Saratoga, commanded by Mac- donough himself, mounted eight long twenty-four pounders, six forty-two pound carronades, and twelve thirty- two pound carronades; the schooner Eagle, Captain Henley, twelve twenty- three pound carronades, and eight long eighteens; the schooner' Ti- conderoga, eight long twelve pound- ers, four long eighteen pounders, and five thirty-two pound carronades; the sloop Preble, seven long nine pound- ers. Six of the ten galleys were armed with one long twenty-four pounder and one eighteen pound columbiad each; the remainder carried each one long twelve pounder. The British force outnumbered the American in vessels and guns. It was I commanded by Captain Downie, and consisted of his flagship, the Confiance, mounting thirty-seven guns, of which no less than thirty on the gun deck were long twenty-fours; the brig Lin- net, with sixteen long twelves; two sloops, the Chub and Finch, mounting each eleven guns, mainly eighteen pound carronades, and thirteen galleys, of which five had two guns each. The whole number of guns of the British was ninety-five, with a force of about one thousand men. Preparations had been made by both parties during the previous season, and two of the vessels, the Eagle and the Confiance, had been launched during the month of August. The British began their advance from Isle aux Noix, at the northern end of the lake, with their gunboats, on the third of September, covering the land movement of the troops; they made a station and rendezvous at Isle au Motte, and brought their whole force off Platts- burg on the eleventh, the day of the battle. Macdonough meanwhile was reconnoitering the enemy on the shore with his gunboats, and taking his posi: tion for the defence of the town, across Plattsburg Bay. This is a piece of water running north and south, parallel with the lake and protected from it by the jutting promontory of Cumberland Head. South of this piece of land, forming as it were a boundary to the bay in that direction, are a shoal and a small island. Besting upon the latter, and stretching in a straight line fully within the promontory, were anchored the vessels of Macdonough in the fol- lowing order from the north, the Eagle, THOMAS MACDONOUGH. 85 Saratoga, Ticonderoga, and Preble. On an inner line in the openings be- tween these were ranged the gunboats * which were not anchored. The first appearance of the enemy was announced at eight o'clock in the morning. At nine, to follow the dis- patch of Macdonough, which presents in few words the clearest account of the engagement, he " anchored in a line ahead, at about three hundred yards' distance from my line ; his ship opposed to the Saratoga, his brig to the Eagle, his galleys to the schooner, sloop, and a division of our galleys; one of his sloops assisting their ship and brig, the other assisting their galleys: our re- maining galleys with the Saratoga and Eagle. In this situation the whole force on both sides became engaged, the Saratoga suffering much from the heavy fire of the Confiance. I could perceive at the same time that our fire was very destructive to her. The Ti- conderoga, Lieut. Com. Cassin, gallantly sustained her full share of the action. At half past ten o'clock, the Eagle not being able to bring her guns to bear, cut her cable and anchored in a more eligible position, between my ship and the Ticonderoga, where she very much annoyed the enemy, but unfortunately leaving me exposed to a galling fire from the enemy's brig. Our guns on the starboard side being nearly all dis- mounted or unmanageable, a stern an- chor was let go, the bow cable cut, and the ship winded with a fresh broadside on the enemy's ship, which soon after surrendered. Our broadside was then sprung to bear on the brig, which sur- rendered in fifteen minutes after. The ii.—11 sloop that was opposed to the Eagle had struck some time before, and drift- ed down the line, the sloop which was with their galleys having struck also. Three of their galleys are said to be sunk; the others pulled off. Our gal- leys were about obeying with alacrity the signal to follow them, when all the vessels were reported to me to be in a sinking state ; it then became necessary to annul the signal to the galleys, and order their men to the pumps. I could only look at the enemy's galleys going off in a shattered condition, for there was not a mast in either squadron that could stand to make sail on ; the lower rigging, being nearly all shot away, hung down as though it had just been placed over the mastheads. The Sara- toga, which was twice set on fire by hot shot from the enemy's ships, had fifty-five round shot in her hull, the Confiance one hundred and five. The enemy's shot passed principally just over our heads, as there were not twen- ty whole hammocks in the nettings at the close of the action, which lasted without intermission two hours and twenty minutes." Such, in the manly, unaffected lan- guage of Macdonough, was the battle of Lake Champlain—to which we must add the cost of the victory. His sec- ond in command in the Saratoga, Lieu- tenant Peter Gamble, fell at his post early in the action. Twenty-eight were killed and twenty-nine wounded on board this ship. In the other vessels of the American line, the unusually close proportion of killed and wounded was as remarkable, the aggregate beino- fifty-two of the' former to fifty-eight of 86 THOMAS MACDONOUGH. the latter. The English losses were not ascertained with the same accuracy. The number of killed and wounded on board the Confiance exceeded one-third <>f her crew of about three hundred men. Her commander, Captain Dow- nie, was killed early in the action, when the vessel was gallantly fought by Captain Pring, who headed the list of officers captured. Great praise is awarded to Macdo- nough for his skilful disposition of his ship in anchoring not only with a spring on his cable, but with kedges out, ready to warp the ship either way, as might be required—an arrangement which enabled him to bring his fresh broadside to bear upon his antagonist and secure a victory. The slaughter in both these vessels was fearful. The first broadside of the Confiance, after securing her position, killed and wound- ed some forty men on the deck of the Saratoga. The certainty of the fire,. and the sure effect of the manoeuvres on the still water of the lake, added greatly to the perils of the engagement, compared with the naval vicissitudes of wind and wave in an encounter at sea. One incident on board Macdo- nough's vessel, often narrated, pleas- antly relieves the horror of this terrible strife. In clearing her decks for action, some hen-coops were broken up, and the poultry suffered to run at large. Animated by the noise of the conflict, a young cock flew upon a gun slide, clapped his wings and crowed. It was accepted as a good omen by the men, who seconded it with three cheers. It reads like a story of some ancient con- flict of Greek or Roman in the Medi- terranean, when such a circumstance would have almost decided the conflict. Many stories are told concerning the deck of the Saratoga during the engagement. It was thought at one time that Macdonough himself was killed. He was prostrate for several minutes, lying senseless on his face. At another moment he was thrown covered with blood between two of the guns, struck by the head of one of his men. This is narrated by Cooper, who preserves other wonders of the scene. " Mr. Brum, the master, a venerable old seaman, while winding the ship, had a large splinter driven so near his body as actually to strip off his clothes. For a minute he was thought to be dead; but, on gaining his feet, he made an apron of his pocket handkerchief, and coolly went to work again with the springs. Mr. Vallette, acting lieuten- ant, had a shot box, on which he was standing, knocked from under his feet, and he, too, was once knocked down by the head of a seaman." Another incident is well worth men- tioning as illustrative of the earnest character of Macdonough. He is said, on the first appearance of the enemy off Cumberland Head, to have knelt on the deck of his ship and prayed for aid. This accords with the language of his first brief dispatch after the bat- tle, addressed to the Hon. William Jones, the Secretary of the Navy, dated on board the Saratoga. " Sir, the Al- mighty has been pleased to grant us a signal victory on Lake Champlain, in the capture of onp frigate, one brig, and two sloops of war ot the enemy. I have the honor to be, etc.'1 THOMAS MACDONOUGH. 87 Laconic dispatches were the order of the day with the men of the sword in the last war. Of the effective military conduct of the American commander in this en- gagement we may willingly accept the summary of Cooper, referring the read- er, for the more particular detail of the nautical incidents of the day, to his Naval History. " Captain Macdo- nough," he writes, "who was already very favorably known to the service for his personal intrepidity, obtained a vast accession of reputation by the re- sults of this day. His dispositions for receiving the attack were highly judi- cious and seamanlike. By the manner in which he anchored his vessels, with the shoal so near the rear of his line as to cover that extremity, and the land of Cumberland Head so near his broad- side as necessarily to bring the enemy within reach of his short guns, he com- pletely made all his force available. The English were not near enough, perhaps, to give to carronades their full effect, but this disadvantage was unavoidable, the assailing party having, of course, some choice in the distance. All that could be obtained, under the circumstances, appears to have been secured, and the result proved the wis- dom of the actual arrangement. The personal deportment of Captain Mac- donough, in this engagement, like that of Captain Perry in the battle of Lake Erie, was the subject of general admi- ration in his little squadron. His cool- ness was undisturbed throughout all the trying scenes on board his own ship, and although lying against a ves- sel of double the force, and nearly dou- ble the tonnage of the Saratoga, he met and resisted her attack with a con- stancy that seemed to set defeat at de fiance. The winding of the Saratoga, under such circumstances, exposed as she was to the raking broadsides of the Confiance and Linnet, especially the latter, was a bold, seamanlike, and masterly measure, that required unus- ual decision and fortitude to imagine and execute. Most men would have believed that, without a single gun on the side engaged, a fourth of their peo- ple cut down, and their ship a wreck, enough injury had been received to justify submission; but Captain Mac- donough found the means to secure a victory in the desperate condition of his own ship." The result of this action, and of the corresponding energy on land, was the speedy delivery of the region from the presence of Sir George Prevost and his forces. Congress awarded Macdonough a gold medal, and various gifts poured in upon him. He was pronounced the fellow hero of Perry, and Cham- plain was placed by the side of Erie. The State of New York bestowed upon him a grant of land on the bay which he had made memorable by his bravery; and Vermont, the city of New York, and Albany, conferred grants of land. He retired from the war not only honored but wealthy. We hear of him afterwards in command of the station at Portsmouth, New •Hampshire, and of his last years being passed in broken health. He died of a lingering consumption on the tenth of November, 1825. JOHN RANDOLPH. The first ancestor of John Randolph in Virginia, William Randolph, came from Warwickshire in England, we presume in the latter portion of the seventeenth century, for we read of his death in 1711, leaving a large family. His fourth son, Richard, mar- ried Jane Boiling, the grand-daughter of Robert Boiling and Jane Rolfe who was the grand-daughter of Poca- hontas. Richard had a son John who was the father of our John Ran- dolph of Roanoke, as he loved to call himself after the paternal estate; and it was thus he had in his veins, as he sometimes proudly said, the blood of the Indian princess. John Randolph, the father, died at the age of thirty-four, in 1775, leaving a young and fascinating widow of the age of twenty-three, the mother of four children. This lady was the daughter of Colonel Theodorick Bland, senior, an active spirit in the Revolution, at whose estate, " Cawson's," in Prince George County, her third son, John, the subject of our sketch, was born, or as he chose late in life to express it, " was ushered in this world of woe," June 2,1773. His parents' home, how-. ever, was Matoax, not far off in the ad- joining county on the Appomatox, near Petersburg. Thither the widow brought her second husband, St. George Tucker, when, after three years' endurance, she threw off her " unhappy widowhood," as it is written in her hand in the old family Prayer-book.1 Between these two homes the youth of John Randolph was passed. When the second mar- riage took place, the boy was in his sixth year, and his mother and step- father both of the age of twenty-six. Later in life, St. George Tucker became known as Judge Tucker, editor of Blackstone, and author of various poli- tical and legal writings. There is a little poem, a favorite with the public, attributed to his pen.2 As Mr. Tucker always enjoyed a high reputation for amiability, the family influences of youth, beauty and intelligence, upon the children, must have been propitious, The mother taught the Collects of the Common Prayer and the Catechism ; the father, who had come to America from the Bermudas to old William and Mary College, the other studies. But John was better disposed to take care of his own education. A delicate, lit- 1 For these and other details of this sketch we are in- debted to the appreciative life of John Randolph of Roanoke, by Hugh A. Garland. * The stanzas commencing— " Days of my youth, ye have glided away, Hairs of my youth, ye are frosted and grey." t :j /'■■ C?«2ppelzr.tsicpssf?ssu?ri. x'-tkcpucii^h.-.- JOHN RANDOLPH. 89 erally and figuratively thin-skinned boy, of a wilful, violent temper, withal sensitive and poetic, he found his way to that " book closet" in the old coun- try mansion which so often figures in the history of men of genius. There he found nutriment which thus im- bibed in youth has governed the thoughts and actions of many authors and busy men. Fondly recurring to this youthful training of the imagination more than thirty years afterwards, in a letter to the nephew whose education he, in turn, had directed, he assembles again these books of his boyhood, with their shelf-fellows, " nature's great ste- reotypes,"—volumes which had been the companions and solace of his troubled life. Hear the reminiscent, and be stirred at these echoing names as at the sound of a trumpet. " I al- most envy you, Orlando. I would, if it were not Johnny Hoole's translation; although at the age of ten I devoured that more eagerly than gingerbread. Oh, if Milton had translated it, he might tell of— ' All who since, baptized or infidel, Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban, Damasco, or Morocco, or Trebisond; Or whc-m Biserta sent from Afric shore, When Charlemagne, with all his peerage, fell By Fontarabia.' Let me advise you to— ' Call up him, who left half told, The story of Cambuscan bold.' I think you have never read Chau- cer. Indeed, I have sometimes blamed myself for not cultivating your imagin- ation, when you were young. It is a dangerous quality, however, for the possessor. But if from my life were to be taken the pleasure derived from that faculty, very little would remain. Shak- speare and Milton, and Chaucer and Spenser, and Plutarch and the Arabian Nights Entertainments, and Don Quix- ote and Gil Bias, and Tom Jones and Gulliver, and Robinson Crusoe and ' the tale of Troy divine,' have made up more than half of my worldly en- joyment. To these ought to be added Ovid's ' Metamorphoses,' Ariosto, Dry den, Beaumont and Fletcher, Southern, Otway, Congreve, Pope's 'Rape' and 'Eloisa,' Addison, Young, Thomson, Gay, Goldsmith, Gray, Collins, Sheri dan, Cowper, Byron, ^Esop, La Fon- taine, Voltaire ('Charles XII.,'' Moham- med,' and ' Zaire'), Rousseau (' Julie'), Schiller, Madame de Stael—but above all, Burke. " One of the first books I ever read was Voltaire's ' Charles XII.' About the same time, 1780, I read the * Spec- tator,' and used to steal away to the closet containing them. The letters from his correspondents were my favor- ites. I read ' Humphrey Clinker,' also, that is, Win's and Tabby's letters, with great delight, for I could spell at that age pretty correctly. ' Reynard the Fox,' came next, I think, men 'Tales of the Genii,' and ' Arabian Nights.' This last and Shakspeare were my idols. I had read them with Don Quixote, Gil Bias, Quintus Curtius, Plutarch, Pope's Homer, Robinson Cru- soe, Gulliver, Tom Jones, Orlando Fu- rioso, and Thomson's Seasons, before 1 was eleven years of age; also, Gold- smith's Roman History, 2 vols. 8vo., 90 JOHN RANDOLPH. and an old history of Braddock's war. When not eight years old, I used to sing an old ballad of his defeat: ' On the sixth day of July, in the year sixty-five, At two in the evening, did our forces arrive; When the French and the Indians in ambush did lay, And there was great slaughter of our forces that day.'" At about eleven, 1784-5, Percy's Reliques and Chaucer became great favorites, and Chatterton and Row- ley.' The youth of Randolph, spite of these solaces of the imagination, was not—could hardly have been happy. He encountered many miseries, some of which, being external to a man, a healthy temperament, with the exercise of that fortitude which all are called to practise, might have thrown off or endured with resignation. But the difficulty with Randolph was, that his was not a healthy temperament. How- ever he may have struggled for the sound mind through the defects of an irregular education, and he certainly did struggle, its incentive and instru- ment, the sound body, was wanting. His frame was always delicate. In youth he was undergrown, thin and awkward. It is said that he grew a head taller after he was twenty-three. The progress of his life is the progress of disease. Within this morbid anatomy was lodged a quick, fiery spirit,—as he himself expressed it, " a spice of the devil in my temper." A body and mind of these dispositions'would have chafed under the most felicitous cir- ' Letters of Tohn Randolph to a young Relative, 190-1. cumstances. They make their own troubles in the world, changing the sunlight of heaven to darkness. But there were real shadows cast upon the boyhood and youth of Randolph. The first breaking up of the household came from the British, when the family was driven in hot haste from its plea- sant Matoax by the invasion of the traitor Arnold. There were other es- tates in the family, however, and Bi- zarre, for many years the residence of Randolph, opened its friendly arms to the young mother and her babe of a few days old. Ruthless scenes of war, these! The head of the family, the ex cellent St. George Tucker, was on duty in the field leading the county militia. He served afterwards with Greene and Lafayette. The home education was fatally interrupted, but the school of Walker Maury offered its aid and was accepted. In that seminary in Orange County, and afterwards in a grammar school in alliance with William and Mary, Randolph learnt the elements of the Greek and Latin languages, in both of which doubtless he.would have be- come something of an adept had he not been checked by delicate health, and called away to a visit with his parents to Bermuda. He exchanged his copy of Sallust, as a memorial of friendship for that belonging to his life-long friend, Tazewell, and writing on its blank page the line of Virgil: " Ccelum non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt," the boy of eleven took his departure from Williamsburg. After his return from Bermuda, he passed a short time at Princeton College, in New Jersey. He recalled afterwards JOHN RANDOLPH. 9] his exercises in oratory in that institu- tion. He would not speak, if he could avoid it, he says in a letter, and then only, without gesture, the shortest piece he had in his memory. Yet he talks of his conscious superiority in de- livery and elocution, and heaps con- tempt upon the honors which were not awarded to him! The inconsist- ency shows Randolph at that time to have had something of his genius for oratory struggling within him. From Princeton he was summoned home by the death of his mother, the one being whose prayers and counsel and nameless influences might have soothed his fretful sj)irit. The grave- yard at Matoax gathered another stone, which lay heavily upon his heart. These old griefs always lived within him. His imagination, stimulated by a life of suffering, never allowed him to forget a past sorrow. In the dark hours of his wounded spirit, the pure image of that " only one human being who ever knew me," rose before him. It was thus he wrote after the duel with Henry Clay. " Rarely," adds his biographer, " did he come to Peters- burg or its vicinity, that he did not visit old Matoax in its wasted solitude, and shed tears over the grave of those honored parents, by whose side it was the last wish of his heart to be bur- ied."1 A few months after this event, in June, 1788, he went, full of animation in the cause of literature, to Columbia College at New York. There he be- came attached to Cochrane, the " hu- 1 Garland, I. 25. inanity professor," of whom he took lessons in private, paying the fees out of his pocket money. " We read De- mosthenes together, and I used to cry for indignation at the success of Philip's arts and arms over the liberties of Greece." The teacher left for Nova Scotia under some provocation, and the pupil, with no personal influence to excite his powers, suffered his studies to languish. There were lessons at New York, however, in those days, be- side those within the college walls. It was the time of the inauguration of Washington, and the assembly of the first Congress under the Constitution. Both these scenes were witnessed by Randolph. They fix thus early, for his school education was now ended, the date of his political career. As Patrick Henry and Richard Henry Lee were the children of the Revolution, the mind of Randolph was developed apace with the struggles of the Consti- tution. His family alliances sharpened his perceptions of the strife. Several of his relatives were in the House of Representatives; he watched the de- bates eagerly, and when the Congress met at its next session in Philadelphia, he took up his residence there with his kinsman, Edmund Randolph, then one of the Cabinet. The master spirit, Jefferson, was also his relative. His biographer traces these influences and sketches the national discussions which agitated the public. They may be summed up in the fears of the new Constitution, and the efforts of French propagandism. For the most part, those who rejected the Constitution adopted the tricolor. The States 92 JOHN RANDOLPH. Rights men were thoroughly demo- cratic. Randolph made a fusion of the two elements, and puzzled the world with his aristocratic Republicanism. As a Virginian, he belonged to the Anti-Federalists; as a man of the na- tion, he drew his political philosophy from that nursing-father, Edmund Burke, with an unction which was not surpassed by the devotion of Fisher Ames himself. New trials and personal discipline were to intervene before Randolph committed himself to his long public career. He had continued to reside in Philadelphia, bearing his part in the friendship and society of the place, un- der the roof of his relative, Edmund Randolph, till he became of age, when he returned to Virginia and entered on the management of his landed estates, which, in common with much of the property of the State, were greatly em- barrassed by foreign debt. It was a custom of the planters in the old colo- ny times to mortgage their lands to Brit- ish creditors, for advances on the crops. This became a gradually increasing in- heritance of debt which the sponge of the Revolution did not wipe out, though considerable opposition was made to its payment in Virginia, en- forced by the eloquence of Patrick Henry, who had been retained to plead against the foreign claimants. The Randolphs had to provide for their full share of the wasteful extravagance of their forefathers. The estates were now divided between the elder brother, Richard, and John Randolph of Roan- oke, as he was now fully entitled to call himself. The latter resided with Richard, the head of the family at Bi- zarre. On his return from a visit to Georgia in 1796, he was met by the intelligence of his brother's death, ano- ther seed of anguish sown in the well- watered plot of his bitter recollections. Sorrows such as these, indeed, are the common lot of humanity: they are borne by delicate women, by sensitive youth, and enfeebled age: we have all such " gatherings in the heavens;"* it is the story of this huge volume—for what is biography but the story of death, as of life ? What are our books and libraries but words from splendid cenotaphs of the departed \ The wea- pon indeed is old, but each stroke is new; the blood must flow—the tears must follow. The loss to the wayward, sensitive Randolph, of such a brother, in such a home, was great. Richard appears to have been a model of chiv- alric character, the very being to pro- tect the genius and secure the allegi- ance of his wayward brother. If to this loss we are to add the story of an unhappy attachment, darkly hinted at by his biographer, to a lady who rejected his passionate attentions, we may see another staff removed which might have propped this naked life, at once so dependent and so haughty. Other men, again, have endured these things and more, and grown strong; but theirs has not been the angry spirit of Byron, cramped in the body of Pope. The reader may desire some particu- lars of this courtship. A recent feeling tribute to Randolph, by an eloquent 1 The touching expression of the historian, Hallam, in his old age, bereft of his accomplished sons. JOHN RANDOLPH. writer of Virginia,1 supplies us with a sketch of the scene. The incidents must be left to the hearts of lovers. "Yesterday," says Mr. Cooke, "I vis- ited an old ante-Revolutionary mansion, where many hours of his early man- hood were passed—where he paid his addresses to the lady of whom he said, ' I loved her more than my own soul, or Him that created it,' and whom he was thinking of long, weary years after- ward, when he wrote to his friend, ' I, too, am wretched!' The old mansion seemed to illustrate and make real again, so to speak, the tragedy which had been played there at the end of the last century. All around was sug- gestive of the past, and seemed as it were to shut out and do away with the present. The old wainscoting ex- tended as in ancient English castles and country-houses, from the narrow mantelpiece to the ceiling, around which ran a heavy carved cornice of age-em- browned timber. The mantelpiece it- self was decorated with ponderous Gothic ornaments. In the wide fire- place the tall old andirons, supporting the cheerfully blazing logs, rose up like ghosts. The windows, tall and narrow, were scratched over with names—the names of ladies fair, gone long ago into the dust from which they came; and among these names I read ' Mar^a W------,' one whom we may call, without exaggeration, ' the fate of John Randolph.' " Her portrait was on the wall, in its old oaken frame—the canvas cracked 1 Mr. John Esten Cooke, in a paper on the " Early Days of Randolph," one of a series on the illustrious men of Virginia, contributed to " The Century " newspaper. h.—12 and falling away—but the face looking out upon you still, with its lurking smile, and large dark eyes as it looked long ago—the real face of a living wo- man. There were two portraits of the lady. The one to which I have re- ferred, represents her as a child almost, with a profusion of brown hair, cut short upon the forehead, but falling in long locks upon the bare, whit* shoulders and the bosom. Around the young lady's figure is clasped a full lace dress, the huge plaits reposing ,on her neck. The pretty face looks out from the frame of curls, with the calm, collected smile of which I have spoken; you see in it the germ, as it were, of the opposite portrait. The same per- son is represented therein, as she ap- peared in middle age—indeed, just be- fore her death. A lace veil is thrown around the intelligent features of the beautiful woman, and is gathered care- lessly in the Spanish fashion, with the white right hand. The portrait was unfinished when she died ; the veil was thus thrown by the painter across the forehead just above the eyes, after vain attempts to accurately recall the upper portion of the countenance." The whole inventory—the schedule of this bankrupt property of the heart: two portraits at the beginning and end of life, a diamond tracing on a pane of glass, a piece of wainscoting, an old doorstep, from which the lover depart- ed, leaving behind him what little re- mained of youth and happiness. In despair, the proud, melancholy, wounded lord of encumbered acres, in a fit of caprice almost, offered himself to the people as their representative in 9-t JOHN RANDOLPH. Congress. Tt was the time and place, the Charlotte Court House, which wit- licxsed the last great speech of Patrick Henry. John Randolph followed him on the stump—impar conyressnx Achil- U, it may well have appeared to the bystanders. Randolph, however, had the popular side, though he spoke in opposition to Henry, who, it will be remembered, on that occasion publicly proclaimed his adhesion to Federalism —even to the repressive measures, the alien and sedition laws of John Adams. Randolph took his seat in the Con- gress of 1800. His first speech was on a Republican motion for the reduction of the army, to which he applied the term mercenaries, in contradistinction to the voluntary militia force. In the evening certain military officers made his remarks a means of annoyance at the theatre. He considered it an in- vasion of privilege, and addressed the President upon the*subject. By the President it was sent to the House; a committee was appointed, resolutions were reported, debated and thrown out. It wns certainly rather a peculiar introduction to the public; but in the heat of politics, anything which marked a member's position was of consequence, and John Randolph became an object of attention. For thirty years he was regularly re- turned to the councils of the nation. He was all this while, with the excep- tion of two years in the Senate, in the House of Representatives. Washing- ton knew him as well as she learnt to know Clay, Webster, Calhoun or Ben- ton. Foi this long period he was a celebrity in Congress. His personal eccentricities, his lank appearance, his voice shrieking in its higher tones, his withering sarcasm, his splenetic moods, the purity and elegance of his phraseology, the independence and honesty of his sentiments, all united in engaging the public attention, which is always attracted by strong peculiar- ities and deeply affected by manly convictions; which is irresistibly en- ticed by so remarkable a union. There was not a meeting or an assembly of half a dozen persons of intelligence in the country through his active period, which did not discuss the last sharp saying or denunciation of John Ran- dolph. He prided himself on his aris- tocracy ; but it was not an aristocracy of luxury and expense, of show and vanity, for which he had a contempt great as his admiration for ancestral acres;—the brightest gem he saw in her coronet was truth. For this he valued wealth and station, inculcated economy, and treated debt as a dis- grace :—it was an invasion of a man's pride and independence. During his thirty years at Washing ton he represented the old States Rights party of Virginia. He witnessed the election of Jefferson and bore an active part in that of Jackson, who had no brighter, more subtle partisan than Randolph, when in one of his most brilliant speeches he turned the very deficiencies of the old chieftain to his honor. The late Senator Benton, in Us "Thirty Years' View," tells us that " during the first six years of Jefferson's administration, Randolph was the Mu rat of his party, brilliant in the charge, and always ready for it; and valued in JOHN RANDOLPH. 95 the council as well as in the field. For more than thirty years he was the poli- tical meteor of Congress, blazing with undiminished splendor during the whole time, and often appearing as the 'plan- etary plague,' which shed, not war and pestilence on nations, but agony and fear on members. His sarcasm was keen, refined, withering—with a great tendency to indulge in it; but, as he believed, as a lawful parliamentary weapon to effect some desirable pur- pose. Pretension, meanness and dema- gogism were the frequent subjects of the excercise of his talent; and, when confined to them, he was the benefactor of the House. Wit and genius, all al- lowed him; sagacity was a quality of his mind, visible to all observers—and which gave him an intuitive insight into the effect of measures." He long held the responsible post of chairman of the Committee of Ways and Means. Among the leading questions with which he was identified were the claims growing out of the swindling Yazoo land speculation of Georgia, of which he was a resolute opponent; the mea- sures leading to the war of 1812, which he constantly questioned ; the election of Madison, when he was still in oppo- sition ; the compromise of the Missouri bill, which he denounced ; the procla- mation of Jackson, which he resented with acrimony. In the debates, grow- ing out of these questions, he left his record in many a pungent remark. u Masterly inactivity," which he com- mended to the General Government in policy affecting the States, and " dough faces," a term which he ap- plied in the course of the Missouri debate, are phrases which will long live in our political vocabulary. It was a characteristic of his speeches to seize eagerly upon his conclusion, hud- dling argument upon argument mixed with Latin quotation and familiar al- lusion. In apology for these flying leaps of oratory, we may accept a fable written by himself: " A caterpillar comes to a fence; he crawls to the bot- tom of the ditch and over the fence; some one of his hundred feet always in contact with the object upon which he moves ; a gallant horseman, at a flying leap, clears both ditch and fence. ' Stop !' says the caterpillar, ' you are too flighty, you want connection and continuity; it took me an hour to get over; you can't be as sure as I am, who have never quitted the subject, that you have overcome the difficult} and are fairly over the fence.' ' Thou miserable reptile,' replies our huntsman, ' if, like you, I crawled over the earth slowly and painfully, should I ever catch a fox, or be anything more than a wretched caterpillar ?"* It was during Randolph's short period in the Senate, in April, 1826, that his famous duel occurred with Henry Clay. It grew out of terms employed in a speech by Randolph on the Panama mission, characterizing the union of Clay with Adams as " the coalition of Blifil and Black George,—the combina- tion, unheard of till then, of the purr tan with the blackleg." Clay dial lenged Randolph. The latter accepted the call on a punctilio. As a senator he would render no explanation for '. Garland, II. 300. 96 JOHN RANDOLPH. words spoken in debate ; as a man, he would give satisfaction for an injury. A resolution like this admitted no ad- justment. To preserve his consistency, Randolph resolved not to fire at his antagonist, subtly arguing that, if he did, he would admit the right to be questioned. So the parties met on the bank of the Potomac. Randolph chose the Virginia side, that if he fell it might be on the soil of his State. The word was to be given by the seconds, for reasons of humanity, with great quickness. Clay objected to this rapid- ity, when Randolph, fancying in it a murderous intention, altered his resolu- tion not to fire, to the resolve simply to wound his antagonist. Neither shot of the first fire took effect. At the second, Randolph resumed his ori- ginal intent and fired in the air; Clay's bullet passed through the skirt of his coat. The parties advanced to meet each other, and a prompt reconciliation ensued.1 The whole transaction is cha- racteristic of Randolph, of his subtlety of mind, his courage and chivalric de- votion to a lofty idea of magnanimity. On his last visit to Washington, when near his death, he was taken to the Senate and placed near Mr. Clay, who was speaking. Pie desired to be raised that he might hear " that voice " again. Mr. Clay came to him and offered his hand: " Mr. Randolph, I hope you are better, sir." "No, sir," replied Ran- dolph, " I am a dying man, and I came here expressly to have this interview with you." In an interval of his Congressional 1 Benton's Thirty Years View, I. 70-7. duties, in March, 1822, Randolph visit- ed England for the first time. Enthu- siasm is perhaps too cheerful a word to be applied to the movements of his mind, but he certainly took a strong interest in this pilgrimage to the land of his fathers. His geographical stu- dies had given him a better acquaint- ance with it than that of most Eng- lishmen. On approaching the Irish coast he drew delight out of the stores of his knowledge, from spots where others saw but barrenness. The island of Rathlin recalled to him a fund of antiquarian lore. Snowdon and the Welsh hills brought before his eye the "Bard" of Gray. "Thank God!" he exclaimed, on seeing England, " that I have lived to behold the land of Shak- speare, of Milton, of my forefathers! May her greatness increase through all time." Maria Edgeworth and Eliza- beth Fry were especial objects of his regard. He met accidentally with the poet Moore, under the gallery of the House of Commons. In a conversation with his friend Harvey,1 he described the bard as " a spruce, dapper little gentleman," who turned out " a most fascinating, witty fellow." Moore was sufficiently tickled with the interview and the Virginian's compliments to make a note of the affair in his diary— " Sat next Randolph, the famous Ame- rican orator; a singular looking man, with a young old face, and a short, small body, mounted upon a pair of high crane legs and thighs, so that, when he stood up, you did not know 1 Jacob Harvey, of New York, who published in the Journal of Commerce, a very interesting series of Recol- lections of Randolph. _J JOHN RANDOLPH. 97 when he was to end, and a squeaking voice like a boy's just before breaking into manhood. His manner, too, strange and pedantic, but his powers of eloquence, Washington Irving tells me, wonderful." * Having travelled about England, and visited Scotland, Randolph returned home in November. In the summer of 1824 he again visit- ed England, when he included Paris in his tour. Randolph finally retired from the House of Representatives, in which he served a single term after his two years in the Senate, March, 1829. He was immediately afterward elected to the Virginia Convention, which met for the revision of the Constitution, in October, 1829, and took an active part in its debates. The convention was packed with the celebrities of the State, the Madisons, Marshalls, Monroes and others, but Randolph of Roanoke was paramount among them. His speech on a proposed provision for future amendments in the Constitution, is full of that political wisdom which is drawn from private life, the family and soci- ety, admirably enforced, such as could have called forth applause from his master, Edmund Burke. The mission to Russia followed. Men stared in those days, as at the sight of a comet, at his departure for St. Petersburg; a wild destination for a shattered invalid, who called for a milder climate than his own Virginia. It was in his view a roundabout way of getting to the south of Europe, and after a short trial of its summer severi- 1 Moore's Diary, 30th May, 1822. ties, among which, he insisted, was the subjection of his man Juba, the con- stant companion of his travels, to a fit of illness—a clear case of yellow fever—and the slightest modicum of diplomacy, he turned his steps to Eng- land. In the autumn of 1831 he re- turned to the United States. A few more speeches, a little more political agitation—this time at the expense of his old friend, Jackson—and the end came. He had long kept up a hand to hand fight with death, and now of late years had found his best security in flight. He kept posting and travelling, and was on his way to the packet for England, when he was finally arrested at Philadelphia, at the age of sixty, June 24, 1833. He died among stran- gers, his faithful black servant, John, the solitary representative of his Virgi- nia home, by kis«eide, in a room of the City Hotel. The last scenes of his life have been laid before the world. It is a story of pain, of agony which had be- come so inwrought with his entire ex istence fhat it does not seem strano-e on his lips now. His call for his father's golden shirt-stud to be placed on his bosom as he was dying, is very touch- ing. The word " Remorse," which he ordered to be written down, calling for a dictionary—"Get a dictionary, let me see the word," has an air of de- lirium. Not so his reiterated provisions for his slaves whom he had manumitted by his will. It was the cherished pur- pose of his life which he had inherited with his brother's example, and surely of all acts to close his troubled pilgrim- age, that from him was most accepta- ble—an act of mercy to the race which 98 JOHN RANDOLPH. had ever furnished him in his multi- plied sorrows, kind nurses and faithful friends. Randolph lived in dread of insanity and would often quote Johnson's sad lines— " In life's last scene, what prodigies surprise, Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise! From Marlborough's eyes the streams of dotage flow, And Swift expires, a driveller and a show." He was spared, however, that fate. We may believe, too, that in the many thoughts which crowded his excited brain, the consolations of religion were not wanting to his later years. In his youth he had been noted as a free thinker; he afterwards underwent a " conversion;" in his better moments, when he was most himself, he was cer- tainly a devout man. The speeches of RafMolph have been fairly reported, and should be separately published and well edited. Many just remarks and sound maxims of life, as well as witty sayings, will be found in them. In his conduct Randolph was erratic; the pressure of disease upon his feeble frame sometimes brought him within the verge of insanity; but there was no incoherency in the sagacity of his better moments. No sounder ad- vice to youth, more kind, persistent, earnest on common topics of daily life was ever given than that which lu wrote to his nephew, Dr. Theodore Bland Dudley, in the epistles which he has published. Labor, Honor, Truth are his topics, with the minor moral- ities of life reaching down to gram- matical accuracies and the folding of a letter. It is sad to see the corres- pondence darken as the years thicken. Little talk now of books and ele- vated ideas, but a fast increasing ner- vous sensibility and melancholy, with much of the weather, of sciaticas, lum- bago, defluxions, and more deadly evils. He would render a good service to the world, who should throw aside these relics of suffering and disease, and give the public the brighter, healthier moments of John Ran dolph. His broad Virginia acres, the homes of his youth, his desk in Con- gress, his eloquence, the "slow, un- moving finger," pointed in scorn of baseness, his friends, his horses, his books, his faithful slaves, would figure in such a narrative. WASHINGTON IRVING. Seldom does biography offer to us so pleasing a subject as the life of Washington Irving. It is of beauty and beneficence from the beginning to the close—the course of a quiet, tran- quil river, fed at its source by the pur- ity of rural fountains; gathering fer- tility on its banks as it advances; pursuing its path through the loveliness of nature and by the " towered cities " of men, to lapse into final tranquillity beneath the whispering of the groves softly sighing on the borders of the all-re- ceiving ocean. Many were the felicities of the life of Irving. Of a good stock, of honorable parentage, happy in the associations of his youth; gifted with a kindly genius, sure to receive the bless- ing which it gave, attracted to the great and good and beloved by them; finding its nutriment in the heroic in history and the amiable in life; return- ing that generous culture in enduring pictures in most valued books; writing its name on the monuments of Colum- bus, Washington and Goldsmith ; fond- ly remembered at Stratford upon Avon, amjjry the pensive courts of the Alham- bra; endeared to many a cliff and wind- ing valley of his native Hudson:—his memory, surely, by the side of that gen- erous stream will be kept green and flourishing with undying affection. If the felicity of a poem desired by the exquisite Roman bard, that it should be consistent with itself and proceed to the end as it commenced at the beginning, be a just measure of the happmess of life, Washington Irving enjoyed that prosperity. The ancestry of Irving belongs to an ancient line in Scotland, which has been .traced to the first years of the fourteenth century. It is known as " the knightly family of Drum," from an old castle still occupied by the de- scendants, on the banks of the Dee. An early member of the family settled in the Orkneys, where the race flour- ished and faded, " and dwindled, and dwindled, and dwindled, until the last of them, nearly a hundred years since, sought a new home in this New World of ours."1 This was William Irving, who arrived in New York in 1760, bringing with him his wife, an English lady of Cornwall, whose maiden name was Saunders. These were the parents of Washington Irving. He was born in William street, New York, April 3, 1783. One of the ear- liest recorded incidents of his life, he probably shared in common with many 1 The expression is that of Washington Irving himself. We find it in a family sketch in the Richmond Co. Ga zette, Dec. 14, 1859. 100 WASHINGTON IRVING. children of the period; but it is better worth remembering in his case than the others. His Scotch nurse taking him out one day—it was the time of Washington's inauguration, and the first Congress in New York—fell in with the Father of his Country, and eagerly seizing the opportunity, pre- sented her charge to his notice. " Please, your excellency, here's a bairn that's called after you !" Washington, whose kind nature was not averse to such so- licitations, laid his hand upon the head of the child and blessed it. "That blessing," said Irving, in one of his lat- est years, " I have reason to believe has attended me through life." Irving's schooldays wrere not over rigorous. He was not robust, and thus escaped some of the usual persecutions of the pedagogues; for the tradition runs that he was not very bright in these early exercises. Coming home one day, he told his mother, " The ma- dam says 1 am a dunce ; isn't it a pity!" The story is worth telling, as a hint to schoolmasters, upon whom Dame Na- ture is forever playing these mystifica- tions. In Irving's story it simply wit- nesses that he had a genius of his own, better adapted to one thing than ano- ther. It does not appear, however, that he derived much from the schools of his day ; and as ill health prevented bis entering Columbia College, he passed through life with little know- ledge of Greek and Latin, and probably none worth mentioning of Greek. His honif education in English literature was more thoiough. He read Chaucer and Spenser, Addison and Goldsmith, and the other excellent old-fashioned volumes of the British classical book- shelf. There was nothing in the con- temporary literature of the time spe- cially to engage his attention ; nothing at all to wake a boy's heart at home, and no Dickens to stir his perceptions from the other side of the water. This read- ing of old books was, doubtless, favor- able to the employment of his imagina- tion, a faculty which is always excited by pictures of the past and distant. The youth soon found that the cloth in this old wardrobe of the days of Addi- son and Dr. Johnson was sound enough to bear cutting down and refitting for the limbs of another generation. So the boy became an essayist of the school of the Spectator, and the citizen of the World. His first production of which we have any knowledge was written at the age of nineteen, the " Letters of Jonathan Oldstyle," a series of papers on the follies and habits of the town, with an especial leaning to its theatrical shows, which he contri- buted to the " Morning Chronicle," a political daily newspaper which had been recently commenced by his elder brother, Dr. Peter Irving. These pa- pers are lively and humorous produc- tions, and though, of course, they do not equal the polish of the author's later style, yet they are certainly re- markable for their ease and finish. The youth was evidently on the right track, and knew well what.he was about. The next incident we have to record is a pilgrimage to Europe, induced hy symptoms of ill health. At this time and for some years after, Mr. Irvine was threatened with palmonary diih- WASHINGTON TRYING. 101 culties. Indeed, the likeness painted by Jarvis, in his early manhood, bears painful indications of this type of con- stitution. He lived to outgrow it en- tirely. There can be no more pleasing surprise than a glance at the bril- liant prime, from the pencil of Newton and Leslie, by the side of the melan- choly portrait by Jarvis. His tour carried him to France, Italy, Switzer- land and England. An acquaintance with Washington Allston, the refined artist at Rome, half persuaded him to turn his attention to painting, for which he had considerable taste and inclination. The pursuit, amidst the beauties and glories of the arts in the Eternal City, cajoled his imagi- nation with the most enticing allure- ments. "For two or three days," he said, "the idea took full possession of my mind ; but I believe it owed its main force to the lovely evening ram- ble in which I first conceived it, and to the romantic friendship I had formed with Allston. Whenever it recurred to mind, it was always connected with beautiful Italian scenery, palaces and statues, and fountains, and terraced gardens, and Allston as the companion of my studio. I promised myself a world of enjoyment in his society, and in the society of several artists with whom he had made me acquainted, and pictured forth a scheme of life, all tinted with the rainbow hues of youth- ful promise. My lot in life, however, was differently cast. Doubts and fears gradually clouded over my prospects ; the rainbow tints faded away; I began to apprehend a sterile reality, so I gave up the transient but delightful pros- n.~13 pect of remaining in Rome with Allston, and turning painter.'" 1 The law was the rather unattractive alternative, and to the law for awhile the young enthusiast returned to New York, after an absence abroad of two years. He read law with the late Judge Josiah Ogden Hoffman, and old citizens remember his attorney's sign, for he was admitted to practice; but he did not pursue the profession. The very year after his introduction to the bar, in January, 1807, appeared in New York the first number of " Sal- magundi ; or, the Whim-whams and Opinions of Launcelot Langstaff, Esq., and others," a small 18mo. publication of twenty pages, which was destined to make its mark upon the town, and attract the notice of a wider circle. This sportive journal was the produc- tion of three very clever wits—Wash- ington Irving, his elder brother, Wil- liam, the verse-maker of the fraternity, and James K. Paulding, who also* then first rose to notice in this little constel- lation. New York was not at that time too large to be under the control of a skilful, genial satirist. Compared with the metropolis of the present day, it was but a huge family, where every- body of any consequence was known by everybody else. A postman might run over it in an hour. One bell could ring all its inhabitants to prayer and one theatre sufficed for its entertain- ment. The city, in fact, while large enough to afford material for and shel- ter a humorist with some degree of privacy, was, so far as society was con- 1 Cyclopaedia of American Literature, Art. " Allston." 102 WASHINGTON IRVING. cerned, a very manageable, convenient instrument to play upon. The genial wits of " Salmagundi" touched the strings cunningly, and the whole town, with agitated nerves, contributed to the music. The humors of fashion, dress, the dancing assemblies, the mili- tia displays, the elections, in turn yield- ed their sport; while graver touches of. pathos and sketches of character were interposed, of lasting interest. There are passages in " Salmagundi," of feeling, humor and description which the writers hardly surpassed. The work, in fine, is well worthy to take its place, not at the end of the series of the British classical essayists, but at the head of that new American set, which includes "The Idle Man," " The Old Bachelor," " The Lorgnette," and other kindred meritorious produc- tions. " Salmagundi" closed at the end of the year, with its twentieth number, and 'was shortly succeeded by the famous " History of New York from the Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty, by Diedrich Knickerbocker," a work of considera- ble compass and most felicitous execu- tion. The book was commenced with little regard to the form in which it finally made its appearance. The in- tention at first seems to have been to prepare something with the general notion subsequently wrought out in Mr. Poole's very clever "Little Ped- lington Papers"—to ridicule the pre- tensions of the town, which had been aggravated by the appearance of a hand-book of a highly provincial char- acter, entitled "A Picture of New York." The parody, as in the parallel instance of Mr. Dickens's "Pickwick Papers," soon outgrew itself. Previously to its publication, some- thing like a grave history was looked for from Diedrich Knickerbocker. To whet the public appetite, an advertise- ment was inserted in the " Evening Post," narrating, under the heading "Distressing," the departure from his lodgings at the Columbian Hotel, Mul- berry street, of " a small elderly gen- tleman, dressed in an old black coat and cocked hat, by the name of Knicker- bocker," and asking printers to serve the cause of humanity by giving the notice insertion. " A Traveller " next sends a random note of an old gentleman answering the description, having been seen on the road to Albany, above Kingsbridge. After the lapse of a rea- sonable time, Seth Handaside, the Yan- kee landlord, announces his intention to remunerate himself by the sale of a curious manuscript Mr. Knickerbocker had left behind him. The same num- ber of the journal had an advertisement of the publication by Inskeep and Bradford. There is a great deal of fun in Knick- erbocker—some sheer burlesque, which - begins and ends with the page, but far' more genuine humor applicable to wider scenes and more real adventures. The old Dutch families took offence at the free use of their names, which were very unceremoniously handled. One old inhabitant of the North River, who rejoiced in the patronymic itself, Knickerbocker, it is said was especially aggrieved, and we have heard of the author's exclusion, in WASHINGTON TRYING. 103 one instance, from the entertainments of a leading colonial family. Years after, the spirit of the work was con- demned in a grave paper read be- fore the New York Historical Society; and the censure has of late been re- vived by so judicious a person as Mr. Edward Everett.1 The truth of the matter is, that society must be very weak indeed, which cannot bear the in- fliction of so really good natured a jest as this Diedrich Knickerbocker's His- tory of New York. Though it occu- pied the attention of the public, and to a certain degree gave color to rather a ludicrous estimate of our Dutch fore- fathers in the absence of popular his- tories, which it is perhaps a misfortune were not written earlier, yet it has proved no obstacle to the serious opera- tions of Clio, in the works of Brodhead, O'Callaghan and others; while it has in a thousand ways perpetuated the memory of the old Dutch dynasties. The Dutchmen of New York had never been called Knickerbockers before; now it is quite an accredited designa- tion, not without honor and esteem throughout the world. In the words of the author's apology, prefixed to the revised edition of 1848: "Before the appearance of my work, the popular tra- ditions of our city were unrecorded; the peculiar and racy customs and usages derived from our Dutch progen- itors were unnoticed, or regarded with indifference, or adverted to with a sneer. Now they form a convivial cur- Mr. Verplanck's Anniversary Discourse before the New York Historical Society, December, 1818.—Mr. Eve- rett's obituary remarks on Irving, before the Massachu- setts HistoricalSociety, December, 1859. rency, and are brought forward on all occasions: they link our whole commu- nity together in good humor and good fellowship; they are the rallying points of home feeling—the seasoning of our civic festivities—the staple of local tales and local pleasantries, and are so harped upon by our writers of popular fiction, that I find myself almost crowd- ed off the legendary ground which I was the first to explore, by the host who have followed in my footsteps." This home sensitiveness, of course, was never felt abroad. A copy of the work was sent by the author's friend, Mr.Brevoort,to Sir Walter Scott. His verdict upon this "most excellently jocose history," as he termed it, is con- clusive. It was read in his family with absolute riot of enjoyment. He com- pared it advantageously with Swift, and failed not to note its more serious pathetic passages, which reminded him of Sterne. This led the way afterward to an introduction to Scott at Abbots- ford, and the formation of a friend- ship which lived while Scott lived, and which was cherished among the most valued recollections of Irving's life. His next literary performance was a brief biography of the poet Campbell, written for an American edition of the poet's works. The author showed him- self at home in this department of literature, in which he subsequently became so greatly distinguished. We hear of him now engaged in the mercantile calling of his brother; but hardware and cutlery had little attrac- tion for him. The iron, it may be said, never entered into his soul. When 104 WASHINGT the war with Great Britain shortly after broke out, we find him on the military staff of Governor Tompkins, with the title of Colonel. Colonel Ir- ving ! It no more belonged to his name than the hardware sign. Yet we have no doubt he would have done credit to it if called into active service. As it proved, his pen was more in re- quisition than his sword. He was em- ployed, in the years 1813 and 1814, in conducting the " Analectic Magazine," published by Moses Thomas, in Phila- delphia, and at that time specially de- voted to military and naval affairs. In the original department of this work, in which he was aided by Mr. Ver- planck and Mr. Paulding, he wrote, beside other papers, the biographies of Lieut. Burrows, Captain Lawrence, Commodore Perry, and Captain Porter. They are all spirited productions, cal- culated to warm the heart of the coun- try, justly proud of the brilliant achieve- ments of these worthies; while they are quite free from the besetting sin in such cases, of patriotic exaggeration. At the close of the war he sailed for Liverpool, and took charge of the affairs of the mercantile house with which he was connected. The sudden change of business affairs at the peace greatly embarrassed the firm. After suffering the torture of the agony of the counting-room during this period of failing credit, he finally became dis- engaged from the affair, and directed his steps to London and the booksel- lers for a livelihood. He now turned his talent for obser- vation and description to account in the production of the series of papers )N IRYING. included in the " Sketch Book." They are the first fruits of his English expe- rience, mingled with some fanciful cre- ations, as the legends of Rip Van Win- kle and Sleepy Hollow, based on Ame- rican recollections. The great success of the work was not attained at a sin- gle blow. There seemed to be no opening for such a work in the English market. The publication was, in fact, commenced in New York, in numbers. When a portion of it had thus ap- peared, it reached William Jerdan, the editor of the " London Literary Ga- zette," whose practised eye detected at once a good thing for his journal. He reprinted several of the papers, when the author offered the work to Murray. The usual answer in such cases was returned, couched in imposing phrase, as a mark of respect: " If it would not suit me to engage in the publica- tion of your work, it is only because I do not see that scope in the nature of it which would enable me to make those satisfactory accounts," etc. In this strait the author addressed Sir Walter Scott, who, generously appre- ciating the man and his work, promised his aid with Constable, and as the best thing at hand in the meanwhile offered Irving a salary of five hundred pounds to conduct a weekly periodical at Ed- inburgh. His correspondent was, how- ever, too chary of his talents as an au- thor of all work to engage in this undertaking. He put his book to press in London at his own expense, with John Miller, and Miller soon after failed. Sir Walter, the beneficent dens ex machind, now opportunely happened in London, and arranged the publica- WASHINGTON IRVING. 105 tion with Murray, who thenceforward became the author's fast friend and most liberal paymaster. The " Sketch Book " was a brilliant success. Jeffrey reviewed it, Lockhart admired, Byron praised and Moore sought the author's acquaintance at Paris on the strength of it. " Bracebridge Hall" followed the " Sketch Book " in 1822 ; and the close of the next year brought its sequel, the "Tales of a Traveller." All these works have more or less the character- istics of the first member of the family. There is an elaborate elegance of style, a certain delicacy and sweetness of sentiment, an easy grace of reflection, a happy turn of description. The writer does not draw a great deal on his in- vention for the characters or the inci- dents, but he managed to develop both with skill, and, being always a jealous watcher of his own powers, and cau- tious in feeling the pulse of the public, ' he looked for new material before the old was exhausted. There is a good genius always waiting to help ability and sincerity. Just as the essayist may have felt the want of a new field for his exertions, he was invited, by Mr. Alexander H. Everett, to Spain with a view to the translation of the collection of Spanish documents re- cently made by Navarrete from the long and jealously secluded public archives. He undertook the work, which called for something far above translation, and the essayist bloomed into the historian. The "History of the Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus," appeared in due time, fol- lowed by the "Voyages and Disco- veries of the Companions of Colum- bus." Both works greatly enhanced the reputation of the author. Litera- ture, indeed, awards her highest,hon ors to the historian. History has just laid Macaulay in Westminster Abbey. Jeffrey reviewed the " Columbus" with enthusiasm in the " Edinburgh," and the George IV. fifty guinea gold medal was conferred upon Hallam and Irving at the same time. The literary execution of the "Co- lumbus " must be pronounced in gen- eral very happy. There is perhaps a little cloying sweetness in its regular- ly constructed periods; but these ele gantly apportioned sentences are al- ways made to bear their full weight of thought. The condensation is* ad- mirable, while there is a richness of phraseology, and a warm glow of the imagination is spread over the wholes It is not to be supposed that this ex- cellence was attained without labor. It is the fiat of fate, says Wirt, from which no power of genius can absolve a man. Irving, at the suggestion of Lieutenant Slidell, who pronounced the style unequal, re-wrote nearly the whole of the work. Professor Long- fellow, who saw Irving while it was in progress in Spain, recalls the " pa- tient, persistent toil" of the author. The genius of Irving delighted in these Spanish themes. After he had made the intimate acquaintance of various parts of Europe, the land of the Sara- cen seemed to present to him the great- est attractions. He devoted his genius to the revival of her history, and the embellishment of her legends. Had opportunity permitted, he would doubt 106 WASHINGTON IRVING. less have produced companion volumes to the Columbus on themes which af- terwards engaged the pen of Prescott As it was, he gave the world those de lightful books, the " Conquest of Gra nada," the " Alhambra," the " Legends of the Conquest of Spain," and " Maho met and his Successors." His imagina tion was thoroughly captivated by the daring, pathetic, and tender scenes of these old tales of adventure, with which his genius was very apt to blend some lurking touch of humor. At the close of his long residence in Spain, Mr. Irving passed some time in England, enjoying for a while the post of secretary of legation to the Ameri- can embassy. He left London in 1832, on his return to America, after an ab- sence of seventeen years, arriving in the month of May, at New York, where he found a most cordial welcome awaiting him. A public dinner was given to him by his friends, numbering some of the most distinguished persons in the country. Chancellor Kent presided at the banquet. Irving was congratulated in the handsomest terms on the eminent services he had rendered the literature of his country, and replied in the simplest words, congratulating his fellow citizens on their prosperity as he drew an attrac- tive picture of the growth and beauty of New York, and expressed the warm- est emotions at his reception. His essential modesty led him to value such tributes highly; though he very seldom allowed himself to be put in the way of them. The sight of America appeared to revive in him the freshness and adven- ture of youth. In the very summer of his return he accompanied Mr. Ells worth, one of the commissioners for removing the Indian tribes to the west of the Mississippi, a journey of which he published an animated -ac- count in 1835. This sharpened his pen for the fascinating narrative enti- tled " Astoria, or Anecdotes of an En- terprise beyond the Rocky Mountains," which appeared the ensuing year, and was followed by a work of similar cha- racter, the "Adventures of Captain Bonneville, U.S.A., in the Rocky Moun- tains and the Far West." The skilful grouping and picturesque narrative of these books, rendering an otherwise confused and encumbered story so charming, leave us to regret that so much excellent matter of the kind should be so frequently thrown away for lack of these literary advantages. Though Mr. Irving had received large sums for copyright, yet from losses from investment which he had experi- enced, his income could not at this time have been large, for we find him yielding to an agreement of a character always irksome to a man of his tem- perament, to furnish regular monthly articles to a periodical. Some of the pleasantest of his later papers, howev- er, were written in this way for the "Knickerbocker" magazine, in 1839 and 1840 ; a selection from which was afterwards made by him in the volume entitled " Wolfert's Roost." In 1852, Mr. Irving received the ap- pointment from the government of minister to Spain. Its announcement by Daniel Webster, at whose sugges- tion it was made, was entirely unex- pected by hira. A passing compli WASHINGTON IRVING. 107 ment paid him at this time is worth recording. It occurs in Mr. Charles Dickens's "American Notes," in a de- scription of a Presidential drawing room at Washington, when Irving was present in his new character for the first and last time before going abroad. "I sincerely believe," says Dickens, " that in all the madness of American politics, few public men would have been so earnestly, devotedly and affec- tionately caressed as this most charm- ing writer: and I have seldom respect- ed a public assembly more than I did this eager throng, when I saw them turning with one mind from noisy ora- tors and officers of state, and flocking with a generous and honest impulse round the man of quiet pursuits : proud in his promotion as reflecting back upon their country: and grateful to him with their whole hearts for the store of graceful fancies he had poured out among them." Mr. Irving passed several years in Spain in his diplomatic capacity, devot- ing himself assiduously to the duties of his position. His dispatches in the State Paper Office will doubtless, should the time ever come for their publica- tion, present a valuable picture of the changing political fortunes of the coun- try during his term. On his return from Spain, Mr. Irving made his home for the remainder of his life at his beautiful country seat, " Sun- nyside," on the eastern bank of the Hudson, some twenty miles from New York. Here he resided in the midst of his family, consisting of his brother and nieces, occasionally visiting his frier.ds in Virginia and other portions of the country, but gradually limiting his journeys to the neighboring city. At Sunnyside, in these later years, he prepared the revised editions of his books, which now became a source of regular profit, wrote the " Life of Oliver Goldsmith," and completed the crown- ing labor of his long literary career, the " Life of George Washington." The interval between the publication of the first of the five volumes and the last, was five years. It was completed the very year of his death. His design was to present in simple, unambitious narrative a thoroughly truthful view of the character of Washington—of the acts of his life with an impartial esti- mate of the men and agencies by which he was surrounded. He attained all this and more. His work has been read with interest, nay, with affection, and promises long to retain its hold upon the public. Mr. Irving had now reached the close of life, with as few of the infirmi- ties as fall to the lot even of those ac- counted most fortunate. His health, delicate in his youth, had strengthened with his years, and during the long periods of his residence abroad he knew no illness. The breaking up of his powers was gradual, affecting only his physical strength. His mind—the felicity of his thoughts, the beauty of his expression, his style, were unimpaired to the last. His death occurred sud- denly, in his Sunnyside cottage, as he was retiring to rest on the night of November 28, 1859. He fell with scarcely a word— "Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest ■way." 108 WASHINGTON IRVING. " It was scarcely death," said an emi- nent artist1 to us, a dweller on the banks of his own Hudson, thinking of the fulness of years and honors, and the mild departure—" it was a transla- tion." The good omen of this happily rounded life was repeated on the day of the funeral, which drew multitudes of honored citizens from New York to participate in the last rites. It was the first of December, a day of unu- sual gentleness and beauty, the last, as it proved, of the calm Indian sum- mer. All nature breathed tranquil- lity, as the sun descended upon the sleeping river and silent evergreens. Every shop in the village of Tarrytown, where the services were performed at Christ's Church, was shut, and the ut- most decorum prevailed throughout the thronging crowd during the day which closed upon his grave on the hill-side of the Tarrytown cemetery. It was, as President King remarked at the subsequent memorial meeting of the New York Historical Society, " a Washington Irving day." The country will not soon forget the memorable scene. The life of Washington Irving was so truthful, so simple, so easily to be read by all men, that few words are needed for an analysis of his character. He was primarily a man of genius—that is, nature had given him a faculty of doing what no one else could do pre- cisely, and doing it well. His talent was no doubt improved by skill and exercise; but we see it working in 1 Mr. Weir, of West Point. his earliest books, when he could scarcely have dreamt of the author. Indeed, he was thrown upon author ship apparently by accident; a lucky shipwreck of his fortunes, as*it proved, for the world. In this faculty, which he possessed better than anybody else in America, the most important ingre- dient was humor—a kindly perception of life, not unconscious of its weakness- es, tolerant of its frailties, capable of throwing a beam of sunshine into the darkness of its misfortunes. The heart was evidently his logician ; a pure life his best instructor. He loved litera- ture, but not at the expense of society. Though his writings were fed by many secret rills, flowing from the elder worthies, the best source of his inspi- ration was daily life. He was always true to its commonest, most real emo- tions. In all his personal intercourse with others, in every relation of life, Mr. Ir- ving, in an eminent degree, exhibited the qualities of the gentleman. They were principles of thought and ac- tion, in the old definition of Sir Philip Sidney, " seated in a heart of courtesy." His manners, while they were charac- terized by the highest refinement, were simple to a degree. His habits of liv- ing were plain, though not homely: everything about him displayed good taste, and an expense not below the standard of his fortunes; but there was no ostentation. No man stood more open to new impressions. His sensibi- lity was excited by everything noble or generous, and we may add, any thin or which displayed humor of character, from whatever sphere of life the exam WASHINGTON IRVING. 109 pie was drawn. His genius responded to every honest touch of nature in lit- erature or art. He was a man of feel- ing, with the sympathies of a Macken- zie or a Goldsmith. Nor did these emotions, with him, rest only in the luxuries of sentiment. He was a prac- tical guide, counsellor and friend; and his benevolence was not confined to this charmed circle of home and neighborhood. In public affairs, though unfitted for the duties of the working politician, his course was independent and patriotic. No heart beat warmer in love of country and the Union, and the honor of his nation's flag. This is worth mentioning in his case, for his tastes and studies led him to retire- ment ; but he did not suffer it to be an inglorious ease, to which higher ends should be sacrificed. Much has been said of the influence upon his life of an early attachment. He was engaged to a daughter of the late Judge Josiah Hoffman. The lady died and her lover never married. There is thought to be an allusion to this in a beautiful passage in his sketch of St. Mark's Eve in "Brace- bridge Hall," where it is written;— "There are departed beings that I have loved as I never again shall love in this world—that have loved me as I never again shall be loved." Mr. Thackeray, the eminent novelist, has mentioned this tenderly in a few words of tribute to the memory of his friend;— " He had loved once in his life. The lady he loved died; and he, whom all the world loved, never sought to re- place her. I can't say how much the thought of that fidelity has touched me. Does not the very cheerfulness of his after life add to the pathos of that untold story ? To grieve always was not in his nature; or, when he had his sorrow, to bring all the world in to condole with him and bemoan it. Deep and quiet he lays the love of his heart and buries it, and grass and flowers grow over the scarred ground in due time." ii.—14 ABBOTT LAWRENCE. The father of this liberal and enlight- ened merchant, Samuel Lawrence, was a soldier of the Revolution, a descend- ant of the early emigrants of the name, from an ancient stock in England, who settled at Groton, in Massachusetts. He was one of the minute-men who stood ready for the field on the news of Lexington. When word reached his town of Groton, of the movement* of the British troops, on the instant he was mounted, making his circuit of seven miles, summoning his men and returning to his-father's house in thirty minutes. In three hours he was ready to march, and the next day, the 20th of April, 1775, was at Cambridge, ready for the battle of Bunker Hill, in which he took part. He received a bullet through his cap, and a spent grapeshot struok his arm. Providence reserved him for other duties. He was married in the summer of 1777, while attached to the army, to Susanna Par- ker, of his native town, a lady who survived him at an advanced age. As a characteristic incident of the times, we may mention that he was called away from the wedding ceremony to his post in the army within the hour. His mother had given her opinion in favor of the marriage, " as Susan had better be Sam's widow than his forlorn 110 damsel." He was in the battle of Rhode Island, and retired from the service to his native town at the close of 1778. There he pursued the life of a farmer, an intelligent man of his class, since we find him chosen a dea- con of the church, justice of the peace, and an enlightened supporter of the seminary in Groton, since enriched by his sons, and bearing the family name His two sons, who are associated in fame, Amos and Abbott, were born in that town respectively in the years 1786 and 1792.1 The brothers became partners in business, and acquired their fortunes and reputation together, so that the story of one for a good por- tion of their lives is that of the other. They were both educated in the public school, and afterwards in the Academy of Groton, as it was then called. Amos being six years the elder, preceded his brother in his devotion to business. He passed from the Academy to the store of a country merchant in the town, and thence, on coming of age, to Boston, where he went with twenty dollars in his pocket to make acquaint- ances and procure credit, with a view to settle as a storekeeper in his native 1 Amos Lawrence was born April 22, 1786; Abbott on the 16th December, 1792. *ackground. I really feel a little proud, my dear brother, of your con- duct. Few instances of like dispatch are known." Mr. Lawrence continued for some time in England, and we have letters to him in his brother's correspondence of various dates, as he more than once 112 ABBOTT LAWRENCE. visited that country on these business missions. The affairs of the house pro- spered, and numerous expressions of thankfulness are recorded in the diary of Amos as the fortunes of the partners increased. In 1819 Abbott was mar- ried to the daughter of the Hon. Timo- thy Bigelow, a lawyer of high standing in Medford. He had been acquainted with the lady from his youth. In 1821 his brother was elected to the Massachusetts legislature, and about the same time began to engage in those manufacturing pursuits with which he afterward became so greatly identified. Of these occupations the Hon. Ed- ward Everett writes, in a notice of the life of Abbott Lawrence published in his writings : " He very early took an interest in American manufactures. At a time when the merchants of the United States generally looked with indifference, if not with distrust, upon the attempt to compete.with the fabrics of Europe, Mr. Lawrence took a dif- ferent view of the subject, not from selfish motives, for his interests at that time were rather in the channels of trade. But he felt the importance of diversifying the pursuits of a commu- nity, in order to the full development of the endless variety of its talent. He calculated much on the indomita- ble energy of the American mind, and the matchless skill of the American hand. He saw with impatience the vast water-power with which Provi- dence has endowed the countiy run- ning to waste—a water-power equal in the aggregate to the whole steam-power of Great Britain. He regarded it as a practical absurdity of the grossest kind to consume coarse tissues made of the cotton of India, and sold here at twice and thrice the cost for which a vastly better article could be made from the product of our own soil; and he consi- dered it but little less improvident to send our cotton and our wool to Eu- rope, in order to employ foreign labor in converting them into cloth for our own consumption. On the contrary, he saw benefits far beyond those of a pecuniary nature, in building up a great manufacturing system, which should bring the raw material of the South and the capital and manufactur- ing skill of the North into a mutually beneficial connection. When he came forward into life, India cottons of a coarser and flimsier texture than any- thino* that has ever been seen in this country by any man under thirty-five years of age, were sold in this market at retail for a quarter of a dollar a yard. Every attempt to manufacture a better article was crushed by foreign competition, acting upon imperfect ma- chinery, want of skill incident to a novel enterprise, and the reluctance of capital to seek new and experimental investments.1 We are now, without any diminution of our agriculture and navigation, but on the contrary with a large increase of both, the second man- ufacturing country in the world. The rising city which bears his name, on the beautiful banks of the Merrimac, will carry down to posterity no unwor- thy memorial of his participation in this auspicious work." In accordance with these views Mr. I ' Everett's Orations and Speeches, III. 367-8, 375-6. ABBOTT LAWRENCE. 113 Lawrence was a delegate to the Har- risburg Convention of 1827, called to promote the manufacturing interests of the country. In 1834 he was elected to the national House of Representa- tives, where he was placed on the Com- mittee of Ways and Means. He de- clined reelection, but was induced to serve again a few years later, when a severe attack of typhus fever at Wash- ington compelled him to resign his seat and return home.1 He was at this time and subsequently, looked upon, from his wealth and position, as an in- fluential man in public affairs, of the whig politics of the school of Henry Clay. He was also of course an ear- nest cooperator with Daniel Webster, at whose suggestion he received the appointment of commissioner on behalf of Massachusetts to negotiate with Lord Ashburton on the settlement of the eastern boundary question. Beside his activity in the cause of manufactures, he was early an earnest advocate of the system of railways con- necting Boston with the great West. Mr. Everett records his fulfilled pro- phecy of a quarter of a century ago— an age in these matters—" We shall live to see the banks of the upper Mis- sissippi connected by iron bands with State street." The main interest, how- ever, with which his name will be identified, for it belongs more peculiar- ly to his own liberality, without any of that odor of gain which attaches to the material questions of manufactures and railway improvements, is the cause of education. His establishment of the 1 Memoir of Hon. Abbott Lawrence, in New England Historical and Genealogical Register, Oct., 1856. Lawrence Scientific School at Cam- bridge, by a donation in 1847 of fifty thousand dollars, a sum which he after- wards doubled, was the crowning act of his life. It was so felt by his bro- ther Amos, himself distinguished by his charities and various similar acts of philanthropy to schools and colleges. It was beginning at the root of the ma terial prosperity of the country; for he had the sagacity to perceive that ideas were before facts, and that the devel opment of railways and manufactures, of trade and commerce, of agriculture, of arts and mechanics, depended in the first place upon scientific education. That men might be properly trained and educated at home, was an application of the protective system which no theo- rists of political economy could oppose, and no school of statesmen gainsay. On his making the donation creating this splendid foundation, his brother Amos addressed him—" I hardly dare trust myself to speak what I feel, and therefore write a word to say that I thank God I am spared to this day to see accomplished by one so near and dear to me, this last best work ever done by one of our name, which will prove a better title to true nobility than any from the potentates of the world. It is to impress on unborn millions the great truth that our talents are trusts committed to us for use, and to be accounted* for when the Master calls. ... It enriches your descendants in a way that mere money never can do, and is a better investment than any one you have ever yet made."1 He 1 Letter June 9, 1847; Diary and Correspondence, p. 244-5. 114 ABBOTT LAWRENCE. also wrote to a friend: " This noble plan N worthy of him; and I can say truly to you, that I feel enlarged by his doing it. Instead of our sons going to France and other foreign lands for in- struction, here will be a place, second to no other on earth, for such teach- ing as our country stands now in abso- lute need of. Here, at this moment, it is not in the power of the great railroad companies to secure a competent engi- neer to carry forward their work, so much are the services of such men in demand." Mr. Lawrence will be remembered in public life by his mission to Eng- land. It arose out of his participation in the political movements which re- sulted in the election of General Taylor to the Presidency. He was looked upon in fact as a prominent candidate in that nomination for the Vice Presi- dency ; but the choice falling on Mr. Fillmore, Mr. Lawrence, on the organ- ization of the new administration, was offered a seat in the Cabinet. T'his he declined, when he received, in 1849, the mission to England—a position well suited to his wealth, the associa- tions of his life and his desire for hon- orable public employment. Mr. Ever- ett preserves a characteristic anecdote of his state of mind on receiving this appointment. The minister elect to the court of St. James, in his miscellaneous reading had met with the famous wit- ticism of that well-trained diplomatist, Sir Henry Wotton, an Englishman of the politic days of King James I., that an ambassador was an excellent man sent to lie abroad for the good of his coun- try. Half in jest we may presume, but quite in earnest as to the point of mor- ality involved, Mr. Lawrence asked Everett—" Whether there was any real foundation in truth for this ancient epigrammatic jest—for if that was the case, his mind was made up; he had never yet told a lie, and was not going to begin at the age of fifty-six." To which Mr. Everett replied that he could answer for himself as a foreign minister; that he had never said a word or written a line, which, as far as his own character or that of his govern- ment was concerned, he should have been unwilling to see in the newspa- pers the next day." Mr. Lawrence discharged the duties of his mission faithfully to his country, and acceptably to Americans abroad and to his English friends for three years, when he returned to America in time to attend the funeral, at Marshfield, of his illustrious friend, Daniel Web- ster. This event was followed soon # after by the death of his brother, Amos Lawrence, the last day of December, 1852. He was himself destined not long to survive. Less than three years of life remained to him, which, like his preceding course, were distinguished by acts of useful charity. He died on the 18th of August, 1855, at the age of sixty-three, closing a career of emi- nent worth and usefulness, illustrating many of the noblest virtues of the mer- cantile character. Exact, conscientious, enterprising, his generosity and public spirit kept pace with his wealth. Nor were the charities of himself and his brother confined to public acts. They were governed by religious principle, and sought as well the secrecy of pri- ABBOTT LAWRENCE. 115 vate life. In addition to a second sum of fifty thousand dollars, to the Scienti- fic School of Harvard, Mr. Abbott Law- rence bequeathed ten thousand dollars to the Boston Public Library, and five thousand dollars to the Franklin Libra- ry Association in Lawrence, beside various large religious grants. Nor must an enlightened foundation be for- gotten, of a fund of fifty thousand dol- lars, the income of which was to be ap- propriated for the erection of model lodging-houses for the poor of Boston. He left also upwards of seventy thou- sand dollars in private bequests outside of his family. Of his personal character and domes- tic life, we are told by Mr. Everett that " though not professedly a man of letters, Mr. Lawrence had found time, in the intervals of business, for the ac- quisition of a great amount of miscella- neous knowledge, by a judicious course of reading. His home was filled with books, paintings and works of art; his conversation was at all times intelli- gent and instructive ; his appreciation of liberal pursuits, prompt and cordial. In manner he was eminently courteous and affable. His kindly disposition found constant expression in a beaminc smile, in tones and words and acts of cheerfulness, in unaffected sympathy with those around him. His purse, his advice, his encouraging voice were ever at the command of modest worth. His house was the stranger's home; his fireside the resort of friendship. Unos- tentatious hospitality was the presiding genius within his doors. Gloom and austerity were strangers to his counte- nance. He lived in an atmosphere of good will; not a languid sentiment, still less an empty profession ; but sub- stantial, effective good will, manifested in deeds of beneficence. It might be said of him, as it was said of his bro- ther Amos, that " every day of his life was a blessing to some one."1 1 Obituary of Abbott Lawrence in the Boston Daily Advertiser, Aug. 20, 1856. ANDREW JACKSON. Fkw of the eminent men of America, whose acts are recorded in these pages, entered upon the public stage so early and continued on it so late, as the sub- ject of this sketch. To no one but him- self was it reserved to bridge over so completely the era of the Revolution with the latest phase of political life in our day. The youth who had suffered wounds and imprisonment at the hands of a British officer in the war of Inde- pendence, was destined long after, when a whole generation had left the stage, to close a second war with that power- ful nation by a triumphant victory; and when the fresh memory of that had passed away, and men were read- ing the record in history, the same hero, raised to the highest honor of the State, was to stand forth, not simply Presi- dent of the United States, but the ac- tive representative of a new order of politics, reaping a new harvest of favor in civil administration, which would throw his military glory into the shade. Nor was this all These comprehen- sive associations, much as they include, leave out of view an entirely distinct phase of the wonderful career of this extraordinary man. A rude pioneer of the wilderness, he opened the path- way of civilization to his countrymen, and by his valor in a series of bloody Indian wars, made the terrors of that formidable race a matter of tradition in lands which he lived to see bloom- ins: with culture and refinement. A hero in his boyhood, when Greene was leading his southern army to the relief of the Carolinas, he was in Congress the first representative of a new State, when Washington was President; and when the successors of that chieftain, Adams and Jefferson, had at length disappeared from the earthly scene in extreme old age, he, a man more of the future than the past, sat in the same great seat of authority, with an influence not inferior to theirs. Surrounded by these circum- stances, in the rapid development of national life, in the infancy and prog- ress of the country, if he had been a common man he would have acquired distinction from his position; but it was his character to form, circumstances as well as profit by them. There are few cases in all history where, under adverse conditions, the man was so master of fortune. The simplest recital of his life carries with it an air almost of romance; his success mocked the wisdom of his contemporaries, and will tax the best powers of the future histo- rians of America, in its analysis. Andrew Jackson was of Irish parent- age. His father, of the same name, be- S/tcZ 630737 ANDREW JACKSON. 117 tanged to a Protestant family in humble life, which had been long settled at Carrickfergus, in the north of Ireland, whence he brought his wife and two children to America, in 1765. They were landed at Charleston, South Caro- lina, and proceeded at once to the up- per region of the country, on the Ca- tawba, known as the Waxhaw settle- ment. They came as poor emigrants to share the labors of their friends and countrymen who were settled in the district. Andrew Jackson, the elder, began his toilsome work in clearing the land on his plot at Twelve Mile Creek, a branch of the Catawba, in what is now known as Union County, North Carolina, but had barely established himself by two years' labor when he died, leaving his widow to seek a re- fuge with her brother-in-law in the neighborhood. A few days after her husband's death, on the 15th March, 1767, she brought forth a third son, Andrew, of whose life we are to give an account. The father having left little, if any, means of support for his family, the mother found a permanent home with another brother-in-law named Crawford, who resided on a farm just over the border in South Carolina. There the boyhood of Jackson was passed in the pursuits incident to youth, in frontier agricultural life. His phy- sical powers were developed by healthy sports and exercise, and his mind re- ceived some culture in the humble ru- diments of education in the limited schooling of the region. It is probable that something better was intended for him than for most of the boys in his' position, since we hear of his being at ii.—15 an Academy at Charlotte, and of his mother's design to prepare him for the calling of a Presbyterian clergyman. Such, indeed, might well have been his prospects, for he had a nature capable of the service, had not the war of the Revolution, now breaking out afresh in the South, carried him in quite a different direction. In 1779 came the invasion of South Carolina, the ruthless expedition of Pre- vost along the seaboard preceding the arrival of Clinton, and the fall of Charles- ton. The latter event occurred in May of the following year, and Cornwallis was free to carry out his plan for the subjugation of the country. Sending Tarleton before him, the very month of the surrender of the city, the war of devastation was earned to the border of the State, to the very home of Jack- son. The action at the Waxhaws was one of the bloodiest in a series of bloody campaigns, which ended only with the final termination of hostilities. It was a massacre rather than a battle, as Ame- rican blood was poured forth like water. The mangled bodies of the wounded were brought into the church of the settlement, where the mother of the young Jackson, then a boy of thir- teen, with himself and brother—he had but one now, Hugh having already joined the patriots and fallen in the affair at Stono—attended the sick and dying. That " gory bed " of war, con- secrated by the spot where his father had worshipped, and near which he re- posed in lasting sleep, summoned the boy to his baptism of blood. He was not the one to shrink from the encoun- ter. We accordingly find him on hand 118 ANDREW at Sumter's attack, in the following August, on the enemy's post at Hang- ing Rock, accompanying Major Davies' North Carolina troop to the fight, though he does not appear to have en- gaged in the battle. A few days after, Gates was defeated at Camden, and Mrs. Jackson and her children fled be- fore the storm of war to a refuge in the northern part of the district. The es- cape was but temporary, for, on her re- turn in the spring, her boys were entangled, as they could not well fail to be in that region, in the desultory, seldom long intermitted partisan war- fare which afflicted the Carolinas. In the preparation for one of the frequent skirmishes between Whig and Tor)-, the two brothers were surprised, es- caped in flight, were betrayed and cap- tured. It was on this occasion that the scene, often narrated, occurred, of the indignity offered by the British officer, met by the spirited resistance of the youth. Andrew was ordered by the officer, in no gentle tone, to clean his boots. He refused peremptorily, plead- ing his rights as a prisoner of war, an argument which brought down a re- joinder in a sword-thrust on head and arm raised for protection, the marks of which the old hero bore to his last day. A similar wound, at the same time, for a like offence, was the cause of his bro- ther's death. Their imprisonment at Camden was most cruel; severely wounded, without medicine or care, with but little food, exposed to conta- gion, they were brought forth by their mother, who followed them and man- aged their exchange. Few scenes of war can be fancied, more truly heroic JACKSON. and pitiful than the picture presented by Mr. Parton, in his faithful biogra- phy of this earnest, afflicted, patriotic mother receiving her boys from the dungeon, " astonished and horrified " at their worn, wasted appearance. The elder was so ill as not to be able to sit on horseback without help, and there was no place for them in those troubled times but their distant home. It was forty miles away. Two horses, with difficulty we may suppose, were pro- cured. " One she rode herself. Robert was placed on the other, and held in his seat by the returning prisoners, to whom his devoted mother had just given liberty. Behind the sad proces- sion, poor Andrew dragged his weak and weary limbs, bareheaded, barefoot- ed, without a jacket." Before the long journey was thus painfully accom- plished, " a chilly, drenching, merciless rain " set in, to add to its hardships. Two days after, Robert died, and An- drew was, happily, perhaps, insensible to the event in the delirium of the small pox, which he had contracted in prison. What will not woman under- take of heroic charity? This mother of Andrew Jackson had no sooner seen her surviving boy recovered by her care, than she set off with two other ma- trons, on foot, traversing the long dis- tance to Charleston to carry aid and consolation to her nephews and friends immured in the deadly prison-ships in the harbor. She accomplished her er- rand, but died almost in its execution, falling ill of the ship fever at the house of a relative in the vicinity of the city. Thus sank into her martyr's grave, this woman, worthy to be the mother of a ANDREW JACKSON. 119 hero, leaving her son Andrew, " before reaching his fifteenth birth-day, an or- phan; a sick and sorrowful orphan, a homeless and dependent orphan, an orphan of the Revolution." * The youth remained with one of the Crawfords till a quarrel with an Ame- rican commissary in the house—this lad of spirit would take indignity nei- ther from friend nor foe—drove him to another relative, whose son being in the saddler's trade, led him to some six months' engagement in this mecha- nical pursuit. This was followed by a somewhat eager enlistment in the wild youthful sports or dissipations of the day, such as cockfighting, racing and gamb- ling, which might have wrecked a less re- solute victim; but his strength to get out of this dangerous current was happily superior to the force which impelled him into it, and he escaped. He even took to study and became a schoolmas- ter, not over competent in some re- spects, but fully capable of imparting what he had learnt in the rude old field schools of the time. We doubt not he put energy into the vocables, as the row of urchins stood before him, and energy, like the orator's action, is more than books to a schoolmaster. A year or two spent in this way, not without some pecuniary profit, put him on the track of the law, for which there is always an opening in the business arising from the unsettled land titles of a new country, to say no- 1 Parton's Life of Jackson, I. 95. We may here make a general acknowledgment for the aid we have received in this sketch from Mr. Parton's exhaustive narrative. He has far exceeded all previous biographers in the dili- gence of his investigations, and those who write after him of Jackson must needs follow in his steps. thing of those personal strifes and tra- ditions which follow man wherever he goes. The youth—he was yet hardly eighteen—accordingly offered himself to the most eminent counsel in the re- gion—that is, within a hundred miles or so—alighting at the law office of Mr. Spence McCay, a man of note at Salis- bury, North Carolina. There he passed 1785 and the following year, studying probably more than he has had credit for, his reputation as a gay young fel- low of the town being better remem- bered, as is natural, than his ordinary office routine. He had also the legal instructions of an old warrior of the Revolution, brave Colonel Stokes, a good lawyer and mixture of the soldier and civilian, who must have been quite to Andrew Jackson's taste. Thus for- tified, with the moderate amount of learning due his profession in those days, he was licensed and began the practice of the law. His biographer, Mr. Parton, pleased with having brought him thus far successfully on the stage of life, stops to contemplate his subject at full length. His points may be thus summed up: "A tall fellow, six feet and an inch in his stockings; slender, but graceful ; far from handsome, with a long, thin, fair face, a high and narrow forehead, abundant, red- dish-sandy hair, falling low over it— haii* not yet elevated to the bristling aspect of later days—eyes of a deep blue, brilliant when aroused, a bold rider, a capital shot." As for the moral qualities which he adds to these physical traits, the pru- dence associated with courage and 120 ANDREW JACKSON. " that omnipotent something which we call a presence,1' which faithful Kent Raw in his old discrowned monarch Lear, as an appeal to service and named " authority,"—it is time enough to make these reflections when the man shall have proved them by his actions. He will have opportunity enough. After getting his " law," the young advocate took a turn in the miscella- neous pursuits of the West, as a store- keeper .at Martinsville, in Guildford County, keeping up his connection with his profession, it is reported, by performing the executive duties of a constable. He has now reached the age of twenty-one, when he may be said fairly to have entered upon his career,.as he received the appointment of solicitor or public prosecutor in the western district of North Carolina, the present Tennessee. This carried him to Nashville, then a perilous journey through an unsettled country, filled with hostile Indians. He arrived at this seat of his future home, whence his country was often to summon him in her hour of need, in October, 1788, and en- tered at once vigorously on the practice of his profession, which was very much an off-hand, extempore affair, requiring activity and resolution more than learn- ing, especially in the main duties of his office as collector of debts. A large extent of country was to be traversed in his circuits of the wilderness, on which it was quite as important to be a good woodman as a well-informed jurist. Indeed, there was more fear of the Indian than of the Opposite Coun- sel. Jackson had the confidence of the mercantile community behind him,-and discharged his duties so efficiently, and withal was so provident of the future which his keen eye foresaw, that he prospered in his fortunes, and in a few years became a considerable landed proprietor. In 1791 an event occurred which be- came subsequently a matter of frequent discussion, and which certainly re- quired some explanation. Andrew Jackson married at Natchez, on the Mississippi, Mrs. Robards, at the time not fully divorced from her husband, though both Jackson and the lady be- lieved the divorce had been pronounced. The error, after the sifting which the affair received when it became a ground of party attack, and the blazing light of a Presidential canvass was thrown upon it, is easily accounted for. The circumstances of the case may be thus briefly narrated : A Colonel Donelson, one of the founders of Nashville, brought with him to that settlement, not many years before, his daughter Rachel, who at the time of Jackson's arrival was married to a Mr. Robards, of Kentucky. The young " solicitor " found the pair living with the lady's mother, Mrs. Donelson, in whose house Jackson became an inmate. Robards appears to have been of a jealous tem- perament, and moreover of unsettled habits of living. At any rate, he had his home apart from his wife, and we presently find him, in the second win- ter after Jackson's arrival, applying as a Kentuckian, to the Virginia legisla- ture for a divorce. He procured an or- der for the preliminary proceedings, which were understood, or rather misun- derstood by the people of Tennessee, as ANDREW JACKSON. 121 an authoritative separation. With this view of the matter, as the explanation is given, the marriage took place. The divorce was legally completed in 1793. When Jackson then learnt the true state of the case he had the marriage ceremony performed a second time. During the whole of the affair from the beginning, though he acted as a friend of the lady, he appears to have conducted himself toward her with the greatest propriety. Indeed,'a certain innate sense of delicacy and pure chi- valrous feeling toward woman, was al- ways a distinctive trait of his character. It was constantly noticed by those most intimate with him, as a remarka- ble characteristic, in a man roughly taking his share in the wild pursuits and dissipations of the day. He was no doubt early an admirer of the lady, whose gay, spirited qualities and ad- venturous pioneer life were likely to fascinate such a man, and made no secret of his contempt for the husband, threatening on one occasion, when he was pestered by his jealousies, to cut out his ears. The story of his marriage was of course variously interpreted, but he allowed no doubtful intimations of the matter in his presence. It was a duel or war to the knife when any hes- itation on that subject was brought to his hearing. The region into which Jackson had emigrated, having passed through its territorial period, when the solicitor became attorney general, reached its majority in a State name and govern- ment of its own in 1796. He was one of the delegates to the convention at Kuoxville, which formed the consti- tution of Tennessee, and one of the two members of each county, to whom was intrusted the drafting of that instru- ment. When the State was admitted into the Union, Andrew Jackson was chosen its first, and, at that time, only representative to Congress. He took his seat at the beginning of the session, at the close of the year, and was con- sequently present to receive the last opening message of George Washing- ton, it being usual in those days for the President to meet both houses to- gether at the commencement of their sitting, and deliver his speech in per son—what is now the President's mes- sage. In like manner, according to the usage of the English Parliament, a re- ply was prepared and voted upon by each house, which was carried in per- son by the members to the President's mansion. The reply, in this instance, proposed in the House of Representa- tives by the Federalist committee, was thought too full an indorsement of the policy of the administration, and met with some opposition from the Repub- lican minority, Andrew Jackson ap- pearing as one of twelve, by the side of Edward Livingston, and William B Giles, of Virginia, voting against it. He did not speak on the question, and his vote may be regarded simply as an indi- cation of his party sentiments, though, had he been an ardent admirer of Wash- ington, he might, spite of his Tennessee politics, have voted with Gallatin for the original address. That he did not, does not imply necessarily any disaffec- tion to Washington ; but there was pro- bably little of personal feeling in the matter to be looked for from him. The 123 ANDREW independent life of the South and West had never leaned, as the heart of the Eastern and Atlantic regions, upon the right arm of Washington. The only question upon which he spoke during the session was in favor of assuming certain expenses incurred in an Indian expedition in his adopted State; and the resolution which he advocated was adopted. His votes are recorded in favor of appropriations for the navy, and against the black mail paid to Al- giers. His success in the Indian bill was well calculated to please his con- stituents, and he was accordingly re- turned the next year to the Senate. It was the first session of the new admin- istration, and all that is told of his ap- pearance on the floor is the remark of Jefferson in his old age to Daniel Webster, that he had often seen him, from his Vice President's chair, attempt to sj>eak, and "as often choke with rage." Mr. Parton adds to this recollec- tion the bare fact that he made the acquaintance of Duane of the " Au- rora," Aaron Burr and Edward Liv- ingston. He retired before the end of the session, and resigned his seat. Private affairs called him home; but he could not have been well adapt- ed to senatorial life, or he did not like the position, else he would have man- aged to retain it. It was an honor not to be thrown away lightly by an ambi- tious young man. We next behold him chosen by the legislature a judge of the Supreme Court of Tennessee—a post, one would think, of severer requisitions than that of United States senator, since a mem- ber of a legislative body may give a JACKSON. silent vote or be relieved of an onerous committee, while the occupant of the bench is continual^ called upon to ex- ercise the best faculties of the mind. It is to Jackson's credit that he held the position for six years, during which, as population flowed into the State and interests became more involved, the requisitions of the office must have been continually becoming more exact- ing. Its duties carried .him to the chief towns of the State, where he was exjwsed to the observation of better read lawyers than himself. As no re- cord was kept of his decisions, we have to infer the manner in which he ac- quitted himself from what we know of his qualifications. He no doubt made himself intelligible enough on simple questions and decided courageously and honestly what he understood; but in any nice matter he must have been at fault from want of skill in statement, if we may judge of his talents in this respect by his printed correspondence, which is ill spelt, ungrammatical and confused. His personal energy, however, doubt- less helped him on occasion, as in the famous anecdote of his arrest of Russell Bean. This strong villain, infuriated by his personal wrongs, was at war with society, and bade defiance to jus- tice. It was necessary that he should be brought before the court where Jackson presided, but it was pro- nounced impossible to arrest him. The sheriff and his posse had alike failed, when the difficulty was solved by the most extraordinary edict which ever issued from the bench. " Summon me," said the judge to the law officer. It ANDREW JACKSON. 123 was done and the arrest was made. It is curious to read of a judge of the Su- preme Court planning duels and rough personal encounter with the governor of the State, as we do of Judge Jack- son in his quarrel with Governor Se- vier. No stronger evidence could be afforded of the imperfect social condi- tion of the country. It was a rude, un- finished time, when life was passed in a fierce personal contest for supremacy, and wrongs real and imaginary were righted at sight by the pistol. This period of Jackson's career, including the ten years following the retirement from the bench, are filled with prodi- gious strife and altercation. The duel- ling pistols are always in sight, and dreary are the details of wretched personal quarrels preliminary to their use. The first of these encounters in which Jackson was a principal occurred as early as 1795, when he was engaged in Court and challenged the opposite counsel on the spot for some scathing remark, writing his message on the blank leaf of a law book. Shots were exchanged before the parties slept. The most prominent of Jackson's alter- cations, however, was his duel with Dickinson, a meeting noted among nar- ratives of its class for the equality of the combat, and the fierce hostility of the parties. It was fought in 1806, on the banks of Red River in Kentucky. Charles Dickinson was a thriving young lawyer of Nashville, who had used some invidious expressions regarding Mrs. Jackson. These were apologized for and overlooked when a roundabout quarrel arose out of the terms of a horse race, which, after involving Jack- son in a caning of one of the parties, and his friend Coffee in a duel with another, ended in bringing the former in direct collision with Dickinson. A duel was arranged. The principals were to be twenty-four feet apart, and take their time to fire after the word was given. Both were excellent shots, and Dickinson, in particular, was sure of his man. So certain was Jackson of being struck, that he made up his mind to let his antagonist have the first fire, a deliberate conclusion of great courage and resolution, based on a very nice calculation. He knew that his antagonist would be quicker than himself at any rate, and that if they fired together his own shot would probably be lost in consequence of the stroke he must undoubtedly receive from the coming bullet. He conse- quently received the fire, and was hit as he expected to be. The ball, aimed at his heart, broke a rib and grazed the breast bone. His shoes were filling with blood as he raised his pistol, took deliberate aim, re-adjusted the trigger as it stopped at half cock, and shot his adversary through the body. Dickin- son fell, to bleed to death in a long day of agony. Jackson desired his own wound to be concealed, that his opponent might not have the gratifica- tion of knowing that he had hit him at all. Such was the courage and such the revenge of the man.1 After leaving the judgeship, Jackson —he was now called General Jackson, 1 The details of this affair with all its preliminaries, oc- cupy forty octavo pages of -Mr. Parton's narrative—a curious and most instructive picture of the times. 124 ANDREW JACKSON. having been chosen by the field officers major general of the State militia in 1S01, gaining the distinction by a sin- gle vote—employed himself on his plantation, the Hermitage, near Nash- ville, and the storekeeping in which he had been more or less engaged since his arrival in the country. In partner- ship with his relative, Coffee, he was a large exchanger of the goods of the West for the native produce, which he shipped to New Orleans; and it was for his opportunities of aiding him in procuring provisions, as well as for his general influence, that Colonel Burr cultivated his acquaintance in his west- ern schemes in 1805, and the following year. General Jackson, at first fasci- nated by the man, who stood well with the people of the country as a republi- can, introduced him into society and entertained him at his house; but when suspicion was excited by his measures, he was guarded in his inter- course, and stood clearly forth on any issue which might arise, involving the preservation of the integrity of the Union. On that point no friendship could bribe him. Accordingly he offered his services to President Jeffer- son, and, receiving orders to hold his command in readiness, there was great military bustle of the major general in Nashville, raising and reviewing com- panies, to interrupt the alarming pro- ceedings of Colonel Burr on the Ohio. When it was found that there was no- tliing formidable to arrest, Jackson's feeling of regard for Burr revived, he acquitted him of any treasonable in- tent, and resolutely took his part dur- ing the trial at Richmond. On the breaking out of the war with England, in 1812, Geneial Jackson was one of the first to tender his services to the President. He called together twenty-five hundred volunteers and placed them at the disposal of the Government. The proffer was accept- ed, and in December Jackson was set in motion at the head of two thousand men to join General Wilkinson, then in command at New Orleans. The season was unusually cold and incle- ment ; but the troops, the best men of the State, came together with alacrity, and by the middle of February were at Natchez, on the Mississippi. Jack- son's friend and relative, Colonel Cof- fee, led a mounted- regiment overland, while the rest descended the river. Colonel Thomas H. Benton also ap- pears on the scene as General Jackson's aid. At Natchez, the party was ar- rested by an order from Wilkinson, and remained in inaction for a month, when a missive came from the War Depart- ment disbanding the force. Thus was nipped in the bud the ardent longing of the general, and the promise of one of the finest bodies of men ever raised in the country. Jackson, taking the responsibility, resolved that they should not be dismissed till, as in duty bound, he had returned them home. He ac- cordingly led them back by. land, and so solicitous was he for their welfare by the way, so jealous of their rights, carelessly invaded by the government, that his popularity with the men was unbounded. The fiery duellist, " sud- den and quick in quarrel," gained by his patient kindness and endurance on that march, the endearing appellation, ANDREW destined to be of world-wide fame— Old Hickory. He had taken, as we have said, the responsibility in bringing home the troops. This involved an assumption of their debts by the way, for it wras not certain, though to be presumed, that the government would honor his drafts for the expenses of transporta- tion. It did not. The paper was pro- tested and returned upon his hands. In this strait, Colonel Benton, going to Washington, undertook the manage- ment of the affair, and by a politic ap- peal to the fears of the administration, lest it should lose the vote of the State, secured the payment. As he was about returning to Nashville, warmed by this act of friendship, he received word from his brother that General Jackson had acted as second in a duel to that brother's adversary—a most ungracious act, as it appeared, at a moment when the claims of gratitude should have been uppermost. The explanation was that Carroll, who received the challenge, was unfairly assailed, and appealed, as a friend, to the generosity of Jackson to protect him. Taking a duel very much as an everyday affair, the latter proba- bly thought little of the absent Benton. The meeting came off, and Jesse Ben- ton was wounded. An angry letter was written to Jackson by his brother, who came on to Nashville, venting his wrath in the most denunciatory terms —for Benton's vocabulary of abuse, though not more condensed, was more richly furnished with expletives than that of his general. This coming to the hearing of Jackson, he swore his big oath, "by the Eternal, that he n.—16 JACKSON. 125 would horsewhip Tom Benton the first time he met him." The Bentons knew the man, did not despise the threat, but waited armed for the onset. It came off one day at the door of the City Ho- tel in Nashville. There were several persons actors and victims in the affair. These are the items of the miserable business. The two Bentons are in the doorway as Jackson and his friend Co- lonel Coffee approach. Jackson, with a word of warning to Benton, brandish- es his riding-whip; the Colonel fum- bles for a pistol; the General presents his own, and at the instant receives in his arm and shoulder a slug and bullet from the barrel of Jesse Benton, who stands behind. Jackson is thus dropped, weltering in his blood with a desperate wound. Coffee thereupon thinking Tom Benton's pistol had done the work, takes aim at him, misses fire, and is making for his victim with the butt end, when an opportune cellar stair- way opens to the retreating Colonel, who is precipitated to the bottom. Meanwhile Stokely Hays arrives, intent on plunging the sword, which he drew from his cane, into the body of Jesse Benton. He deals the thrust with unc- tion, but striking a button, its force is lost and the weapon shivered. A struggle on the. floor then ensues be- tween the parties, the fatal dagger of Hays being raised to transfix his wound- ed victim, when it is intercepted by a bystander, and the murderous and bloody work is over. Such was the famous Benton feud. It laid Jackson ingloriously up for several weeks, and drove Colonel Benton to Missouri There was a long interval of mutual 126 . ANDREW JACKSON. hostile feeling, to be succeeded by a devoted friendship of no ordinary in- tensity. This Benton affray took place on the 4th of September, 1813. A few days before, on the 30th of August, oc- curred the massacre by the Creek In- dians of the garrison and inhabitants at Fort Minims, a frontier post in the southern part of Alabama. A large number of neighboring settlers, anxious for their safety, had taken refuge with- in the stockade. The assailants took it by surprise, and though the defend- ers fought with courage, but few of its inhabitants escaped the terrible car- nage. The Indians were led by a re- doubtable chieftain, named Weathers- ford, the son of a white man and a Se- minole mother, a leader of sagacity, of great bravery and heroism, and of no ordinary magnanimity. He was unable, however, to arrest, as he would, the fiendish atrocities committed at the fort. Women and children were sacrificed in the horrible rage for slaugh- ter, and the bloody deed was aggrava- ted by the most indecent mutilations. A cry was spread through the South- west similar to that raised in our own day in India, at the Sepoy brutalities. Vengeance was demanded alike for safety and retribution. On the 18th of September the news had reached Nashville, four hundred miles distant, and General Jackson was called into consultation as he sat, utterly disabled with his Benton wounds, in his sick- room. It was resolved that a large body of volunteers should be sum- moned, and, ill as he was, he promised to take command of them when they were collected. Still suffering severely, before they were ready to move he joined them at Fayetteville, the place of meeting. He arrived in camp the seventh of October, and began his work of organizing the companies. Everything was to be done in drill and preparation for the advance into a wil- derness where no supplies were to be had ; yet in four days, a report having reached him that the enemy were ap- proaching, he led his troops, about a thousand men, an afternoon march of thirty-two miles in six hours to Hunts- ville. The Indians, however, were not yet at hand, and joining Colonel Coffee, whom he had sent forward with a cav- alry command, on the banks of the Tennessee, he was reluctantly com- pelled to wait there too long a time for his impatience, till something could be done in providing stores, in which the army was lamentably deficient. A post was established on the river named Fort Deposit, whence Jackson, still inadequately provided, set out, on the twenty-fifth of the month, on his southward march, and carried his force to an encampment at Ten Islands, on the Coosa River. There Coffee was detached to attack a body of In- dians at their town of Talluschatches. He performed the service with equal skill and gallantry; and though the Creeks, as they did throughout the war, fought with extraordinary valor, urged on by religious fanaticism, he gained a brilliant victory. One of the' incidents of the bloody field was the accidental slaughter of an Indian mo- ther clasping her infant to her breast. The child was carried to Jackson, who ANDREW JACKSON. 127 had it tenderly cared for, and finally taken to his home. The boy, named Lincoyer, was brought up at the Her- mitage, and suitably provided for by the general. The next adventure of the campaign was an expedition led by Jackson him- self to relieve a camp of friendly In- dians at Talladega, invested by a large band of hostile Creeks. The very night on which he received the message asking aid, brought by a runner who had escaped from the beleaguered fort in disguise, he started with a force of two thousand men, eight hundred of whom were mounted, and in a long day's march through the wilderness traversed the intervening distance, some thirty miles, to the neighborhood of the fort. The dawn of the next morning saw him approaching the ene- my—a thousand picked warriors. Dis- posing the infantry in three lines, he placed the cavalry on the extreme wings, to advance in a curve and in- close the foe in a circle. A guard was sent forward to challenge an engage- ment. The Indians received its fire and followed in pursuit, when the front line was ordered up to the combat. There was some misunderstanding, and a portion of the militia composing it retreated, when the general promptly supplied their place by dismounting a corps of cavalry kept as a reserve. The militia then rallied, the fire became general, and the enemy were repulsed in every direction. They were pursued by the cavalry and slaughtered in great numbers, two hundred and ninety being left dead on the field and many more bore the marks of the engagement. The American loss was fifteen killed and eighty-five wounded. The friendly Creeks came forth from the fort to thank their deliverers, and share with them their small supply of food. This was emphatically, contrary to all the rules of war, a hungry campaign. On his return to his camp, to which, having been fortified, the name Fort Strother was given, Jackson found the supplies which he had urgently demand- ed, and which he so much needed, not yet arrived. His private stores, which had been bought and forwarded at his expense, were exhausted to relieve the wants of his men. He himself, with his officers, subsisted on unseasoned tripe, like the poor and proud Spanish grandee in the Adventure of Lazarillo de Tonnes, eulogizing the horse's foot, maintaining that he liked nothing bet> ter. The story is told of a starving soldier approaching him at this time with a request for food. " I will give you," said the general, " what I have," and with that he drew from his pocket a few acorns, " my best and only fare."J Food, food, was the constant cry of Jackson in his messages to the rulers in the adjoining States. It was long in coming, and in the meanwhile the commander, eager to follow up his suc- cesses and close the war, was con- demned to remain in inactivity—the hardest trial for a man of his temper. Scant subsistence and the hardships common to all encampments brought discontent. The men longed to be at home, and symptoms of revolt began to appear. The militia actually com- 1 Eaton's Life of Jackson, p. 66. 128 ANDREW JACKSON. menced their march backward; but they had reckoned without their leader. On starting they found the volunteers drawn up to oppose their progress, and abandoned their design. Such was the force of Jackson's authority in the camp, that when these volunteers, who were in reality disappointed that the movement did not succeed, attempted in their turn to escape, they were in like manner met by the militia. The occasion required all Jackson's ingenu- ity and resolution, and both were freely expended. His iron will had to yield something in the way of compromise. Appealing to his men, he secured a band of the most impressible to remain at Fort Strother, while he led the rest in quest of provisions toward Fort De- posit. The understanding was that they were to return with him when food was obtained. They had not gone far when they met a drove of cat- tle on their way to the camp. A feast was enjoyed on the spot; but the men were still intent on going homeward. Nearly the whole brigade was ready for motion, when Jackson, who had ordered their return, was informed of their intention. His resolution was taken on the instant. He summoned his staff, and gave the command to fire on the mutineers if they attempted to proceed. One company, already on the way, was thus turned back, when, going forth alone among the men, he found the movement likely to become general. There was no choice in his mind but resistance at the peril of his life, for the men once gone, the whole campaign was at an end. Seizing a musket, he rested the barrel on the neck of his horse—he was unable, from his wound, to use his left arm—and threatened to shoot the first who should attempt to advance. An intimation of this kind from Jackson was never to be despised. The men knew it, and re- turned to their post. They yielded to the energy of a superior mind, but they were not content. Their next resource was, an assertion of the termi- nation of their year's enlistment, which they said would expire on the tenth of December; but here they were met by the astute lawyer, who reminded them that they were pledged to serve one year out of two, and that the year must be an actual service in the field of three hundred and sixty-five days. The argument, however, failed to con- vince, and as the day approached the men were more resolute for their de- parture. They addressed a courteous letter to their commander, to which he replied in an earnest expostulatory ad- dress. " I know not," he said, " what scenes will be exhibited on the tenth instant, nor what consequences are to flow from them here or elsewhere; but as I shall have the consciousness that they are not imputable to any mis- conduct of mine, I trust I shall have the firmness not to shrink from a dis- charge of my duty." The appeal was not heeded, and on the evening of the ninth the signs of mutiny were not to be mistaken. The general took his measures accordingly. He ordered all officers and soldiers to their duty, and stationed the artillery company with their two pieces in front and rear, while he posted the militia on an eminence in advance. He himself rode along ANDREW JACKSON. 129 the line and addressed the men, in their companies, with great earnestness. He talked of the disgrace their conduct would bring upon themselves, their families and country; that they would succeed only by passing over his dead body: while he held out to them the • prospect of reinforcements. "I am too," he said, " in daily expectation of receiving information whether you may be discharged or not; until then, you must not and shall not retire. I have done with entreaty; it has been used long enough. I will attempt it no more. You must now determine whe- ther you will go, or peaceably remain: if you still persist in your determina- tion to move forcibly off, the point be- tween us shall soon be decided." There was hesitation. He demanded a posi- tive answer. Again a slight delay. The artillerist was ordered to prepare the match. The word of surrender passed along the line, and a second time the rebellious volunteers suc- cumbed to the will of their master. These, it should be stated, were the very men, the original company, whom Jackson had carried to Natchez, and for whose welfare on their return he had pledged his property. But in vain he reminded them of the fact, and ap- pealed to their sense of generosity to remain in the service. He gave them finally the choice to proceed to Tennes- see or remain with him. They chose the former, and he let them go. The men he had left with him were enlisted for short periods, or so under- stood it. There was little to build upon for the campaign, and he was even advised by the Governor of Ten- nessee, to abandon the prosecution of the war, at least for the present, or till the administration at Washington should provide better means for carry- ing it on. This was not advice, des- perate as appeared the situation, to be accepted by Jackson. His reply was eminently characteristic—charged with a determined self-reliance which he sought to infuse into his correspondent. "Take the responsibility" is written all over it. " If you would preserve your reputation," he writes, " or that of the State over which you preside, you must take a straightforward, deter- mined course; regardless of the ap- plause or censure of the populace, and of the forebodings of that dastardly and designing crew, who, at a time like this, may be expected to clamor con- tinually in your ears. The very wretches who now beset you with evil counsel, will be the first, should the measures which they recommend event- uate in disaster, to call down impreca- tions on your head, and load you with reproaches. Your country is in dan- ger : apply its resources to its defence! Can any course be more plain % Do you, my friend, at such a moment as the present, sit with your arms folded and your heart at ease, waiting a solu- tion of your doubts and a definition of your powers ? Do you wait for spe- cial instruction from the Secretary of War, which it is impossible for you to receive in time for the danger that threatens?" The governor had said that his power ceased with the call for troops. "Widely different," replies Jackson, " is my opinion. You are to see that they come when they are 130 ANDREW JACKSON. called. Of what avail is it," he urges with an earnestness savoring of sarcasm, ' to give an order if it be never executed, and may be disobeyed with impunity ? is it by empty mandates that we can hope to conquer our enemies and save our defenceless frontiers from butchery and devastation? Believe me, my valued friend, there are times when it is highly criminal to shrink from responsibility or scruple about the exercise of our powers. There are times when we must disregard punctilious etiquette and think only of serving our country." He also presented, in like forcible terms, the injurious effects of abandon- ing the frontiers to the mercy of the savage. The governor took the advice to heart, pointedly as it was given; he ordered a fresh force of twenty-five hundred militia into the field, and seconded General Jackson's call upon General Cocke for the troops of East Tennessee. Meantime, however, Jack- son's force at Fort Strother was re- duced to a minimum; the militia, en- listed for short terms, would go, and there was great difficulty in getting new recruits on to supply their places. The brave Coffee failed to reenlist his old regiment of cavalry. There was a strange want of alacrity through the early period of this war, in raising and disciplining the militia. With a pro- per force at his command, duly equipped and supplied, Jackson would have brought the savages to terms in a month. As it was, nearly a year elapsed ; but the fighting period, when he was once ready to move, was of short duration. While he was waiting for the new Tennessee enlistments, he determined to have one brush with the enemy with such troops as he had. He according- ly set in motion his little force of eight hundred raw recruits on the fifteenth of January, on an excursion into the Indian territory. At Talladega he was joined by between two and three hun- dred friendly Cherokees and Creeks, with whom he advanced against the foe, who were assembled on the banks of the Tallapoosa, near Emuckfau. He reached their neighborhood on the night of the twenty-first, and prepared his camp for an attack before morning. The Indians came, as was expected, about dawn; were repulsed, and when daylight afforded the opportunity, were pursued with slaughter. There was another sharp conflict about the middle of the day, which ended in a victory for the Americans, at some cost to the conquerors, who, ill prepared to keep the field, moved back toward the fort. Enotochopco Creek was reached and crossed by a part of the force, when the Indians fell upon the rear guard, who turned and fled; the artil- lery, however, still left on that side of the river, gave the savages a warm re- ception, when they were pursued by the cavalry, which had recrosped the stream. By this time the country was roused to some adequate support of its gene- ral in the field. At the end of Febru- ary, Jackson was reinforced by the ar- rival at Fort Strother of a force from East and West Tennessee of about five thousand men. By the middle of the next month he was in motion, terribly in earnest for a short and summary ex- ANDREW JACKSON. 131 tirpation of the savages. The execu- tion of John Woods, a Tennessee youth who had shown some insubordi- nation in camp, was a prelude to the approaching tempest. The commander thought it necessary to the unity and integrity of the service. Fortunately for the purposes of this new invasion, the chief warriors of the nation assem- bled themselves at a place convenient enough for defence, but where defeat was ruin. It was at Tohopeka, an In- dian name for the horse-shoe bend of the Tallapoosa, an area of a hundred acres inclosed by the deep waters of the river and protected at its junction with the land by a heavy breastwork of logs pierced for musketry and skill- fully arranged for defence. Within this inclosure, at the time of Jackson's arrival, on the twenty-seventh of March, with less than three thousand men, in- cluding a regiment of regulars under Colonel Williams, were assembled some eight or nine hundred warriors of the Creeks. The plan of attack was thus arranged. Sending General Coffee to the opposite side of the river to effect a diversion in that quarter, Jackson himself directed the assault on the works at the neck. He had two field pieces, which were advantageously planted on a neighboring eminence. His main reliance, however, was at close quarters with his musketry. On the river side General Coffee succeeded in inclosing the bend and cutting off escape by the canoes, which he cap- tured by the aid of his friendly In- dians, and used as a means of landing in the rear of the enemy's position. This success was the signal for the as- sault in front. Regulars and volun teers, eager for the contest, advanced boldly up. Reaching the rampart, the struggle was for the port-holes, through which to fire, musket meeting musket in the close encounter. " Many of the enemy's balls," says Eaton, " were welded between the muskets and bay- onets of our soldiers. Major Montgo- mery, of Williams's regiment, led the way on the rampart, and fell dead sum- moning his men to follow. Others succeeded and the fort was taken. In vain was the fight kept up within, from the shelter of the fallen trees, and equally hopeless was the attempt at escape by the river. No quarter was asked, and none given, for none would be received. Women and children were the only prisoners. It was a des- perate slaughter. Nearly the whole band of Indians perished, selling their lives as dearly as possible. The Ame- rican loss was fifty-five killed and about thrice the number wounded; but the Cherokee dead were to be counted by hundreds. Having struck this fearful blow, Jackson retired to Fort Williams, which he had built on his march, and issued, as was his wont—he was quite equal to Napoleon in this respect—an inspiriting address to his troops. If the words are not always his, the sen- timent, as his biographer suggests, is ever Jacksonian. Somebody or other was always found to give expression to his ardent ejaculations, which need only the broad theatre of a European battlefield to vie with the thrilling manifestoes of Bonaparte. " The fiends of the Tallapoosa will no longer mur- der our women and children, or disturb 132 ANDREW JACKSON. the quiet of our borders. Their mid- night flambeaux will no more illumine their council-house, or shine upon the victim of their infernal orgies." The gratifying event was nearer even than the general anticipated. He looked for a further struggle, but the spirit of the nation was broken. Advancing southward, he joined the troops from the south at the junction of the Coosa and Tallapoosa, the " Holy Ground" of the Indians, where he received their offers of submission. The brave chief- tain, Weathersford, voluntarily surren- dered himself. A portion of the In- dians fled to Florida. Those who were left were ordered to the northern parts of Alabama, Fort Jackson being established at the confluence of the rivers to cut off their communication with foreign enemies on the seaboard. The war had originally grown out of the fir§t English successes and the movements of Tecumseh on the north- ern frontier, and was assisted by Span- ish sympathy on the Gulf. Jackson was now at liberty to return to Nashville with the troops who had shared his victories. He had of course a triumphant reception in Tennessee, and his -services were rewarded at Washington by the appointment of major general in the army of the Unit- ed States, the resignation of General Harrison at the moment placing this high honor at the disposal of the gov- ernment. It was an honor well de- served, earned by long and patient ser- vice under no ordinary difficulties— difficulties inherent to the position, aggravated by the delays of others, and some, formidable enough to most men, which he carried with him bound up in his own frame. We so naturally associate health and bodily vigor with brilliant military achieve- ments that it requires an effort of the mind to figure Jackson as he really was in these campaigns. We have seen him carrying his arm in a sling, unable to handle a musket when he confronted his retiring army ; but that was a slight inconvenience of his wound compared with the gnawing disease which was preying upon his system. " Chronic diarrhoea," says his biographer, " was the form which his complaint assumed. The slightest im- prudence in eating or chinking brought on an attack, during which he suffered intensely. While the paroxysm lasted he could obtain relief only by sitting on a chair with his chest against the back of it and his arms dangling for- ward. In this position he was some- times compelled to remain for hours. It often happened that he was seized with the familiar pain while on the march through the woods at the head of the troops. In the absence of other means of relief he would have a sap- ling half severed and bent over, upon which he would hang with his arms downward, till the agony subsided."J In July, General Jackson was again at the South on the Alabama, presid- ing at the treaty conference with the Indians. The terms he proposed were thought hard, but he was inexorable in requiring them. The treaty of Fort Jackson, signed on the tenth of Au- gust, stripped the Creeks of more than 1 Parton's Jackson, I. 647-8. JACKSON. 133 half of their possessions, confining them to a region least inconvenient to the peaceful enjoyment of the neigh- boring States. " As a national mark of gratitude," the friendly Creeks be- stowed upon General Jackson and his associate in the treaty, Colonel Haw- kins, three miles square of land to each, with a request that the United States Government would ratify the gift: but this, though recommended to Congress by President Madison, was never carried into effect. While the treaty was still under ne- gotiation, Jackson was intent on the next movement of the war, which he foresaw would carry him to the shores of the Gulf. He knew the sympathy of the Spaniards in Florida with the English, and was prepared for the de- signs of the latter against the southern country. Having obtained informa- tion that British muskets were distri- buted among the Indians, and that English troops had been landed in Flo- rida, he applied to the Secretary of War, General Armstrong, for permis- sion to call out the militia and reduce Pensacola at once. The matter was left to the discretion of the commander, but the letter conferring the authority did not reach him for six months. In the mean time he felt compelled to take the management of the war into his own hands. Fully aware of the im- pending struggle, he was in correspond- ence with Governor Claiborne of Lou- isiana, putting him on his guard, and with Maurequez, the Spanish governor of Pensacola, calling him to a strict account for his tampering with the enemy. To be nearer the scene of op- n—17 erations, he removed, immediately after the conclusion of the treaty, to Mobile, where he could gain the earliest intelli- gence of the movements of the British. Learning there, in September, of a threatened visit of the fleet under the orders of Colonel Nichols to Mobile, he called loudly upon the governors of the adjoining States for aid, and gave the word to his adjutant, Colonel But- ler, in Tennessee, to enlist and bring on his forces. They responded eagerly to the call, for the name of Jackson was now identified with glory and vic- tory, which they were ambitious to share. His old friend, General Coffee, was their leader. Before they arrived, the fort at the mouth of the bay was put in a state of defence under the command of Major Lawrence, of the United States infantry. In the after- noon of the fifteenth of September it was his fortune to maintain the post against a bombardment by the British fleet of Captain Percy which recalls both the attack and success of the de- fenders at Fort Sullivan, in the war of the Revolution. What Moultrie and his brave men did on that day in re- pelling the assault of Sir Peter Parker and his ships was now done by Law- rence at Fort Bowyer. " Don't give up the fort" was his motto, as " Don't give up the ship " had been uttered by his namesake on "the dying deck'1 of the Chesapeake, the year before. The fort was not given up. Percy's flag- ship, the Hermes, was destroyed, and the remainder of his command returned, seriously injured, to Pensacola. General Jackson rejoiced in this vic- tory at Mobile, and waited only the 134- ANDREW JACKSON. arrival of his forces to carry the war home to the British in Florida. At the end of October, General Coffee ar- rived with twenty-eight hundred men on the Mobile River, where Jackson joined him, and mustering his forces to the number of three thousand, marched on the third of November against Pensacola. Owing to the difficulty of obtaining forage on the way, the caval- ry was dismounted. The troops had rations for eight days. On his arri- val before the town, being desirous as far as possible of presenting his movements in a peaceful light, Gene- ral Jackson sent a messenger forward to demand possession of the forts to be held by the United States " until Spain, by furnishing a sufficient force, might be able to protect the province and preserve unimpaired her neutral char- acter." On approaching the fort the bearer of the flag was fired on and compelled to retire. Aware of the de- licacy of his self-imposed undertaking, before proceeding to extremities he sent a second message to the governor, by a Spanish corporal who had been captured on his route. This time, word was brought back that the gov- ernor was ready to listen to his propo- sals. He accordingly sent Major Piere a second time with his demands. A council was held, and they were re- fused. Nothing was then left but to proceed. The town was gained by a simple stratagem. Arranging a por- tion of his troops as if to advance directly on his road, he drew the British shipping to a position on that side, when, by a rapid march, he suddenly presented his main force on the other. He consequently entered the town be- fore the movement could be met. A street fight ensued, and a barrier was taken, when the governor appeared with a flag of truce. General Jackson met him and demanded the surrender of the military defences, which was conceded. Some delay, however, oc- curred, which ended in the delivery of the fortifications, of the town, and the blowing up of the fort at the mouth of the harbor. Having accomplished this feat, the British fleet sailed away before morning. Whither were they bound ? To Fort Bowyer and Mobile in all probability, and thither Jack- son, leaving the Spanish governor on friendly terms behind him, hastened his steps. Tarrying a few days for the British, who did not come, he took his departure for New Orleans, with his staff, and in a journey of nine days reached the city on the first of Decem- ber. If ever the force of a single will, the safety which may be provided for an imperilled people by the confidence of one strong right arm, were fully il- lustrated, it would seem to be in the military drama which was enacted in this and the following month on the banks of the Mississippi. Andrew Jackson was the chief aGtor. Louisia- na had brave men in her midst, numer- ous in proportion to her mixed popula- tion and still unsettled condition, but whom had she, at once with experience and authority, to summon on the in- stant out of the discordant materials a band strong enough for her preserva- tion ? At the time of General Jack- son's arrival a large fleet of the enemy ANDREW JACKSON. 135 was hovering on the coast amply pro- vided with every resource of naval and military art, bearing a host of the ve- teran troops of England, experienced in the bloody contests under Welling- ton—an expedition compared with which the best means of defence at hand for the inhabitants of New Or- leans resembled the resistance of the reeds on the river bank to Behemoth. It was the genius of Andrew Jackson which made those reeds a rampart of iron. He infused his indomitable cour- age and resolution in the whole mass of citizens. A few troops of hunters, a handful of militia, a band of smugglers, a company of negroes, a group of peace- ful citizens stiffened under his inspira- tion into an army. Without Jackson, irresolution, divided counsels, and sur- render, might, with little reproach to the inhabitants, under the circumstan- ces, have been the history of one fatal fortnight. With Jackson all was union, confidence and victory. The instant of his arrival he set about the work of organization, review- ing the military companies of the city, selecting his staff, personally examining the approaches from the sea and arrang- ing means of defence. He was deter- mined that the first step of the enemy on landing should be resisted. This was the inspiration of the military movements which followed, and the secret of his success. He did not get behind intrenchments and wait for the foe to come up, but determined to go forth and meet him on the way. He was not there so much to defend New Orleans as to attack an army of inso- lent intruders and drive them into the sea. They might be thousands, and his force might be only hundreds, but he knew of but one resolve, to fight to the uttermost, and he pursued the reso- lution as if he were revenging a per- sonal insult. Events came rapidly on as was anti cipated, an attack was made from the fleet upon the gunboats on Lake Borgne. They were gallantly defend- ed, but compelled to surrender. This action took place on the* fourteenth of December. Now was the time, if ever, to met the invading host. The spirit of Jackson rose, if possible, yet higher with the occasion. Well knowing that not a man in the city could be spared, and the inefficiency, in such emergencies, of the civil authority, he resolve to take the whole power in his own hands. On the sixteenth, he proclaimed mar- tial law. Its effect was to concentrate every energy of the people with a sin- gle aim to their deliverance. Two days after, a review was held of the State militia, the volunteer companies, and the battalion of free men of color, when a stirring address was read, penned by the general's secretary, Edward Liv- ingston—a little smoother than Old Hickory's bulletins in the Alabama wilderness, but not at all uncertain. The Tennessee, Mississippi and Ken- tucky recruits had not yet arrived; but they were on their way, straining every nerve in forced marches to meet the coming danger. Had the British moved with the same energy, the city might have fallen to them. It was not till the twenty-first, a week after their victory on the lake, that they began their advance, and pushed a portion of 136 ANDREW JACKSON. their force through the swamps, reach- ing a plantation on the river bank, six miles below the city, on the forenoon of the twenty-third. It was past mid- day when word was brought to Jack- son of their arrival, and within three hours a force of some two thousand. men was on the way to meet them. No attack was expected by the enemy that night; their comrades were below in numbers, and they anticipated an easy advance to the city the next morn- ing. They little knew the commander with whom they had to deal. That very night they must be assailed in their position. Intrusting an impor- tant portion of his command to General Coffee, who was on hand with his brave Tennesseans, charged with surrounding the enemy on the land side, Jackson himself took position in front on the road, while the Carolina, a war schooner, dropped down on the river opposite the British station. Her can- nonade, at half-past seven, throwing a deadly shower of grape-shot into the encampment, was the signal for the commencement of this night struggle. It was a fearful contest in the darkness, frequently of hand to hand individual prowess, particularly where Coffee's riflemen were employed. The forces actually engaged are estimated on the part of the British, including a reinforce- ment which they received, at more than twenty-three hundred; about fifteen hundred Americans took part in the fight. The result, after an engagement of nearly two hours, was a loss to the latter of twenty-four killed, and one hundred and eighty-nine wounded and missing. The British loss was much larger, sustaining as they did the addi- tional fire of the schooner. Before daylight, Jackson took up his position at a canal two miles distant from the camp of the enemy, and con- sequently within four of the city. The canal was deepened into a trench, and the earth thrown back formed an em- bankment, which was assisted by the famous cotton bales, a device that proved of much less value than has been generally supposed. A fortnight was yet to elapse before the final and conclusive engagement. Its main inci- dents were the arrival of General Sir Edward Pakenham, the commander-in- chief, with General Gibbs, in the British camp, on the twenty-fifth, bring- ing reinforcements from Europe; the occupation by the Americans of a posi- tion on the opposite side of the river protecting their camp; the destruction of the Carolina by red hot shot on the twenty-seventh; an advance of the British, with fearful preparation of artillery, to storm the works the fol- lowing day, which was defeated by the Louisiana sloop advantageously posted in the river, and the fire from the American batteries, which were every day gaining strength of men and muni- tions ; the renewal of the attack with like ill success on the first of January; the simultaneous accession to the Ame- rican force of over two thousand Ken- tucky riflemen, mostly without rifles; a corresponding addition to the enemy on the sixth,-and a general accumula- tion of resources on both sides, in pre- paration for the final encounter.. On the eighth of January, a last attempt was made on the American front, which ANDREW JACKSON. 137 extended about a mile in a straight line from the river along the canal into the wood. The plan of attack, which was well conceived, was to take possession of the American work upon the oppo- site bank of the river, turn its guns upon Camp Jackson, and under cover of this diversion scale the embankment, and gain possession of the battery. The first was defeated by the want of means, and loss of time in getting the necessary troops across the river; the main attack, owing to some neglect, was inadequately supplied with scaling ladders, and the troops were marched up to slaughter from the murderous fire of the artillerymen and riflemen from behind the embankment. Throughout the whole series of engagements, the American batteries, mounting twelve guns of various calibre, were most skil- fully served. The loss on that day of death was to the defenders but eight killed and thirteen wounded; that of the assailants in killed, wounded and missing exceeded, in their official re- turns, two thousand.1 A monument in Westminster Abbey attests the regret of the British public for the death of the commander-in-chief, a hero of the Peninsular war, the lamented Paken- ham. Ten days after, having endured vari- ous hardships in the meantime, the British army, under the direction of General Lambert, took its departure. On the twenty-first, Jackson broke up his camp with an address to his troops, and returned to New Orleans in tri- umph. On the twenty-third, at his 1 Dawson's Battles of the United States, II. 419. request, a Te Deum was celebrated at the cathedral, when he was received at the door, in a pleasant ceremonial, by a group of young ladies representing the States of the Union. The conduct of Jackson throughout the month of peril, whilst the enemy was on the land, was such as to secure him the highest fame of a commander. He had not been called upon to make any extensive manoeuvres in the field, but he had taken his dispositions on new ground with a rapid and profound calculation of the resources at hand. His employment of Lafitte and his men of Barrataria, the smugglers whom he had denounced from Mobile as '' hellish banditti," is proof of the sagacity witt which he accommodated himself to cir cumstances, and his superiority to pre judice. They had a character to gain and turned their wild experience of gunnery to most profitable account at his battery. His personal exertions and influence may be said to have won the field; and it should be remembered in what broken health he passed his sleepless nights, and days of constant anxiety. The departure of the British did not relax the vigilance of the energetic Jackson. Like the English Strafford, his motto was " thorough," as the good people of New Orleans learnt before this affair was at an end. He did not abate, in the least, his strict military rule, till the last possible occasion for its exercise had gone by. It was con- tinued when the enemy had left, and through days and weeks when as- surance of the peaco news was estab- lished to every mind but his own. He 138 ANDREW JACKSON. chose to have certainty, and the " rigor of the game." In the midst of the ovations and thanksgivings, in the first moments of exultation, he signed the death warrant of six mutineers, de- serters, who as long before as Septem- ber, had construed a service of the old legal term of three months as a release from their six months' engagement; and the severe order was executed at Mobile. In a like spirit of military exactitude, New Orleans being still held under martial law, to the chafing of the citizens, he silenced a newspaper editor who had published a premature, incorrect bulletin of peace; banished the French citizens who were disposed to take refuge from his jurisdiction in their nationality; arrested an impor- tant personage, M. Louaillier, a mem- ber of the Legislature, who argued the question in print; and when Judge Hall, of the United States Court, granted a writ of habeas corpus, to bring the affair to a judicial investiga- tion, he was promptly seized and im- prisoned along with the petitioner. The last affair occurred on the fifth of March. A Week later, the official news of the peace treaty was received from Washington, and the iron grasp of the general at length relaxed its hold of the city. The civil authority succeeded to the military, when wounded justice asserted its power, in turn, by summon- ing the victorious general to her bar, to answer for his recent contempt of court. He was unwilling to be entan- gled in legal pleadings, and cheerfully paid the imposed fine of one thousand dollars. He wan as ready in submit- ting to the civil authority now that the war was over, as he had been decidei in exacting its obedience when the safety of the State seemed to him the chief consideration. Thirty years after, the amount of the fine, principal and interest was repaid him by Congress. The reception of the victorious de- fender of New Orleans, on his return to Nashville, and subsequent visit, in au- tumn, to the seat of government, was a continual ovation. On his route, at Lynchburgh, in Virginia, he was met by the venerable Thomas Jefferson, who toasted him at a banquet of citi- zens. The administration, organizing anew the military defence of the coun- try, created him major general of the southern division of the army, the whole force being arranged in two de- partments, of which the northern was assigned to General Brown. It was not long before the name of Jackson was again to fill the public ear, and impart its terrors alike to the enemy and to his own government. The speck of war arose in Florida, which, what with runaway negroes, hostile Indians, filibustering adventu- rers, and the imbecility of the Spanish rule, became a constant source of irrita- tion to the adjoining American States. There were various warlike prelimina- ries, and at last, towards the end of 1817, a murderous attack by the Semi- noles upon a United States boat's crew ascending the Appalachicola. General Jackson was called into the field, charged with the suppression of the war. Eager for the service, he sprang to the work, and conducted it in his own fashion, " taking the responsibil- ity" thioughout, s.immoning volunteers ANDREW JACKSON. 139 to accompany him from Tennessee with- out the formality of the civil authority, advancing rapidly into Florida after his arrival at the frontier, capturing the Spanish fort of St. Marks, and push- ing thence to the Suwanee. General M'Intosh, the half-breed who accompa- nied his march, performed feats of valor in the destruction of the Semi- noles. At the former of these places, a trader from New Providence, a Scotch- man named Arbuthnot, a superior mem- ber of his class, and a pacific man, fell into his hands; and in the latter, a va- grant English military adventurer, one Ambrister. Both of these men were held under arrest, charged with com- plicity with the Indian aggressions, and though entirely irresponsible to the American commander of this mili- tary raid, were summarily tried under his order by a court-martial on Spanish territory, at St. Marks, found guilty, and executed by his order on the spot. He even refused to receive the recon- sideration of the court of its sentence of Ambrister, substituting stripes and imprisonment for death. Ambrister was shot, and Arbuthnot hung from the yard-arm of his own vessel in the harbor. During the remainder of Jack- son's life, these names rang through the country with a fearful emphasis in the strife of parties. Of the many difficulties in the way of his eulogists, this is, perhaps, the most considerable. His own explanation, that he was per- forming a simple act of justice, would seem, with his previous execution of the six mutineers, to rest upon a par- tial study of the testimony; but this responsibility should "of course be di- vided with the members of his court- martial. The chief remaining events of the campaign were an angry corres- pondence with the governor of Georgia, in respect to an encroachment on his authority in ordering an attack on an Indian village, and the capture of Pen- sacola, in which he left a garrison. Reckoning day with the government was next in order. The debate in Con- gress on the Florida transactions was long and animated, Henry Clay bear- ing a conspicuous part in the opposi- tion. The resolutions of censure were lost by a large majority in the House. The failure to convict was a virtual vote of thanks. Fortified by the result, the general, who had been in Washington during the debate, made a triumphal visit to Philadelphia and New York. At the latter place he was presented with the freedom of the city in a gold box, which, a topic for one of the poets of the "croakers" at the time, has be- come a matter of interest since, in the discussion growing out of a provision of the general's will. He left the gift to the bravest of the New York officers in the next war. It was finally be- stowed, in 1850, upon General Ward B. Burnett, the colonel of a New York regiment distinguished in the Mexican war. The original presentation took place at the City Hall, in February, 1819. The protracted negotiations with Spain for the purchase of Florida being now brought to an end by the acquisition of the country, General Jackson was appointed by President Monroe the first governor of the Territory. He was present at the formal cession at 140 ANDREW JACKSON. Pensacola, on the 17th of July, 1821, and entered upon his new duties with his usual vigor—a vigor in one instance, at least, humorously disproportioned to the scene, in a notable dispute with the Spanish governor, in the course of which there was a fresh imbroglio with a United States judge, and the foreign functionary was ludicrously locked up in the calaboose—all about the deliv- ery of certain unimportant papers. On a question of authority, it was Jackson's habit to go straight forward without looking to see what important modifying circumstances there might be to the right or left. It was a mili- tary trait which served him very well on important occasions in war, and sub- sequently in one great struggle, that of the Bank, in peace; but in smaller mixed matters, it might easily lead him astray. For this Don Callava's com- edy, we must refer the reader to Mr. Parton's full and entertaining narra- tive—not the most imposing, but cer- tainly not the least instructive portion of his book. The Florida governor- ship was not suited to the demands of Jackson's nature; his powers were too limited and restricted; the irritation of the Spanish quarrel was not calculated to lighten his disease, and Mrs. Jackson was at his side to plead the superior claims of home. Thither, after a few months' absence, he returned, doubtless greatly to the relief of the Secretary of State, Mr. Adams, who said at the time to a friend, " he dreaded the arrival of a mail from Florida, not knowing what General Jackson might do next."1 The 1 Parton's Jackson, II. 639. remainder of General Jackson's life may be regarded as chiefly political; it is rather as a man of action in politics, than as a theoretical statesman, in any sense, that he is to be considered. He had certain views in public affairs apart from the army, which were more mat- ters of instinct than of reflection or argument. The two great trophies of his administrations, his course towards South Carolina in the preservation of the Union, and his victory over the interests of the United States Bank, were of this character. They were both questions likely to present them- selves strongly to his mind. He had an old republican antagonism to paper money, and the corruptions of a large moneyed corporation allied to the government, and having once formed this idea, his military energy came in to carry it out through every available means at his disposal. His availability for the Presidency was based upon his popularity with the people wherever they had fairly come in contact with him. The people, above all other qualities, esteem those of a strong, earnest, truthful, straight- forward character. They admire force and unity of purpose, and require hon- esty. Jackson had these requisites in perfection. There was no mistaking his single aim. It had been displayed on a field where nothing is hidden from the popular eye, where it is even dis- posed to exaggeration of what it fairly takes in. In producing a candidate for popular favor in an ordinary election, a great deal is to be done, in common cases, in bringing the public to an un- derstanding of his claims. His reputa- ANDREW JACKSON. 141 tion has, in a measure, to be manufac- tured. Voters have to be schooled to his appreciation. But Jackson's fame was already made—made by himself. Various things of great importance to the nation were, at different times, to be done, and Jackson had accomplished them. He had freed the land from the savage, and swept the invader from the soil. He had been charged with some errors, but, granting the worst, they had no taint of selfishness or fraud. If he was over rigorous in punishing deserters, and punctilious in his mili- tary authority, it was a public necessity which nerved his resolution. A few might be sufferers by his ill-directed zeal, but the masses saw only the splen- dor of a righteous indignation. It was for them the work was done, and the penalty incurred. His worst private vice was that of a duellist, which is always more apt to be associated with principles of honor, than its frequent incentive, unworthy self-assertion. It is not at all surprising that such a man should be summoned to the Pre- sidency. He was nominated by the legislature of his own State in 1823, which sent him again to the Senate, and he was highest on the list of the candidates voted for the following year—he had ninety-nine out of two hundred and sixty-one votes—when the election was carried into the House of Representatives, and Adams was chosen by the influence of Henry Clay. At the next election, he was borne tri- umphantly into the office, receiving more than double the number of votes of his antagonist, Mr. Adams. The vote was one hundred and seventy- n.—18 eight to eighty-three. At the election of 1832, the third time Jackson's popu- larity was tested in this way, the vote stood for Clay forty-nine, for Jackson two hundred and thirty-nine. The record of these eight years of his Presidential service, from 1829 to 1837, is the modern histoiy of the democratic party, of the exertions of its most distinguished representatives, of the establishment of its most che- rished principles—its anti-bank creed in the overthrow of the national bank, and origination of the subtreasury system, which went into operation with his successor—the reduction of the tariff—the opposition to internal im- provements—the payment of the na- tional debt. In addition to the settle- ment of these long agitated questions, his administration was signalized by the removal of the Cherokees from Georgia, and the Creeks from Florida; while its foreign policy was candid and vigorous, bringing to a satisfactory adjustment the outstanding claims on France and other nations, and main- taining friendly relations with England. I In all these measures, his energetic hand was felt, but particularly was his pecu- , liar character manifested in his veto of 1832, and general conduct of the bank question, the collection of the French indemnity, and his enforcement of the national authority in South Carolina. The censure of the Senate on the 28th March, 1834, for his removal of the deposits of the public money from the bank as " an assumption of authority and power not conferred by the Consti- tution and laws, but in derogation of both "—a censure supported by the ex- 142 ANDREW JACKSON. traordinary coalition of Calhoun, Clay and Webster, measures the extent of the opposition his course encountered in Congress ; while the Expunging Re- solution of 1837, blotting out that con- demnation, indicates the reception and progress of his opinions with the seve- ral States in the brief interim. The personal attack made upon him in 1835, by a poor lunatic at the door of the Capitol, " a diseased mind acted upon by a general outcry against a public man," * may show the sentiment with which a large portion of the press and a considerable popular party habit- ually treated him. The love of Andrew Jackson for the Union deserves at this time more than a passing mention. It was em- phatically the creed of his head and heart. He had no toleration for those who sought to weaken this great in- stinct of nationality. No sophism could divert his understanding from the plainest obligations of duty to his whole country. He saw as clearly as the subtlest logician in the Senate the inevitable tendencies of any argu- ment which would impair the alle- giance of the people of the States to the central authority. He could not make such a speech as Web- ster delivered on the subject, but he knew as well as Webster the abyss into which nullification would plunge its advocates. His vigorous policy saved his own generation the trials to which ours has been subjected. Had his spirit still ruled at the proper mo- ment in the national administration, 1 Benton's Thirty Years' View, I. 523. we too might have been spared the un- told evils of a gigantic rebellion. It is remarkable that it was predicted by him—not in its extent, for his patriot- ism and the ardor of his temperament would not have allowed him to imagine a defection so wide-spread, or so la- mentable a lack of energy in giving encouragement to its growth—but in its motive and pretences. When nulli- fication was laid at rest, his keen in- sight saw that the rebellious spirit which gave the doctrine birth was not extinguished. He- pronounced the tar- iff only the pretext of factious and malignant disturbers of the public peace, " who would involve their coun- try in a civil war and all the evils in its train, that they might reign and ride on its whirlwinds, and direct the storm." Disunion and a southern con- federacy, and not the tariff, he said, were the real objects of the conspira- tors, adding, with singular sagacity, " the next pretext will be the negro or the slavery question." * Eight years of honorable repose re- mained to the victor in so many battles, military and political, after his retire- ment from the Presidency. They were passed in his seat near Nashville, the home of his happy married life, but no longer cheered by the warm-hearted, sincere, devout sharer of his many trials. That excellent wife had been taken from him on the eve of his first occupation of the Presidential chair, and her memory only was left, with its inviting lessons of piety, to temper the passions of the true-hearted old man as 1 Letter to the Rov. Andrew J. Crawford. Washing- ton. May 1, 1833. ANDREW JACKSON: 143 he resigned himself to religion and the cares of another and better world. He had early adopted, as his own son, a nephew of his wife, and the child grew up always fondly cherished by him, bore his name and inherited his estate. " The Hermitage," the seat of a liberal hospitality, never lacked intimates dear to him. He had the good heart of Dr. Johnson in taking to his home and at- taching to himself friends who grew strong again in his manly confidence. Thus, in the enjoyment of a tranquil old age, looking back upon a career which belonged to history, he met the increasing infirmities of ill health with pious equanimity, a member of the Presbyterian church, where his wife had so fondly worshipped—life slowly ebbing from him in the progress of his dropsical complaint—till one summer day, the eighth of June, 1845, the child of the Revolution, an old man of sev- enty-eight, closed his eyes in lasting repose at his beloved Hermitage. The genius and peculiarities of An- drew Jackson afford a tempting subject for the pen of the essayist. His reso- lute will, strong, fierce and irresistible, resting upon a broad honesty of nature, was paramount. It was directed more by feeling and impulse than by educa- tion and reflection ; consequently there was a spice of egotism even in its pur- est resolves, and it sometimes took harsh ways to good ends. Somehow or other it generally had the sanction of success. The integrity of his pub- lic life, the great national measures with which his name is identified, will throw into obscurity, on the page of history, his personal weaknesses—the violence of his temper, his oaths, his quarrels and occasional seeming want of magnanimity. Strange that so fin- ished and courteous a gentleman shoul d at times have been so rude ! An apology has been found in the struggles of his early life, the rough frontier society into which he was in- troduced, and the lifelong irritations of disease. That in despite of these tan- gible defects, he should, through so great a variety of circumstances, civil and militaiy, have controlled so many strong and subtle elements, and have found so many learned and able men to do his work and assist him in his upward path, is the highest proof of his genius. HENRY CLAY. A curious resemblance has been traced, by an ingenious writer, between many points in the personal career of Henry Clay and Andrew Jackson— leaving out, of course, the military life of the hero of New Orleans, and the remarkable success which seemed to be bound by some Jacksonian law to everything which he undertook. The main points of the comparison are their youthful fortunes, the absence of any very definite education, the choice of the bar for a profession, the early appearance of each in a new western region, their rapid advancement with its growth in political life, their popu- larity and rule in two adjacent States. " Both early impressed themselves upon the community around them, and were distinguished for the same personal characteristics. Both rose at once to posts of honor and distinction; and at an early age enrolled their names, and to the last preserved them, among the first and highest of the republic. Both were men of quick perception, of prompt action, of acute penetration, of business capacity, of masculine common sense, of quick and unerring judgment of men, of singular fertility of resour- ces, of remarkable power to create or avail themselves of circumstances, of consummate tact and management. 144 Both were distinguished for grace and ease of manners, for happy and pol- ished address, and for influence over the wills and affections of those who came within the circle of their ac- quaintance and associations. Both were of lithe, sinewy and slender phy- sical conformation, uniting strength with activity and great powers of en- durance with a happy facility of labor. Both were men of the warmest affec- tions, of the gentlest and most concili- ating manners in social intercourse when they wished to please, of truth and loyalty and steadfastness in friend- ship, bitter and defiant in their enmi- ties, of extraordinary directness in their purposes, of patient and indefati- gable temper in following out their ends or waiting for their accomplish- ment. Neither could brook a rival or opposition, and each had the imperial spirit of a conqueror not to be subdued, and the pride of leadership which could not follow. They were Ameri- cans both, intensely patriotic and na- tional, loving their whole country, 'ts honor, its glory, its institutions, its union, with a love kindled early and quenched only in death."l These are the coincidences. Our narrative 1 Party Leaders, by J. G. Baldwin, p. 282 -8. #&*« /.ikrsm-i.: rrvm, a /brtrtu/ /st, t?ix rssion■/.■/ ///.: /,wJv HENRY CLAY. 145 will show the points of divergence, which were many. Henry Clay, the seventh of a family of eight children, was born April 12, 1777, in Hanover County, Virginia, in a rural district abounding in swamps and hence known as " The Slashes," a term which gave the man a popular de- signation in the Presidential campaign- ing days. His father, of English de- scent, a Baptist clergyman, the Rev. John Clay, a native of Virginia, died when his son was in his childhood, in his fifth year; just as the Revolutionary war was brought to its close in Vir- ginia, leaving the boy to the care of his mother. The orator of after days once recalled in a speech an incident of his childhood, how his mother's house was visited by the troops of Tarleton, and of their "running their swords into the new-made grave of his father and grandfather, thinking they contained hidden treasures." The mother was poorly provided with the means for the education of her numerous young family, and the only early instruc- tion her son Henry received was in the rude log cabin school-house where but the simplest rudiments were taught. His teacher, Peter Deacon, an Englishman, like many others an invo- luntary emigrant, in consequence of his fault or misfortune—" under a cloud," as it is said—conducted the child " as far as Practice," in the old time-honored elements. The " Mill-boy of the Slashes," the electioneering sentimental watchword to which we have just alluded, dates from this period. " It had its founda- tion," says his biographer, Mr. Colton, " in the filial and fraternal duty of Henry Clay, who, after he was big enough, was seen whenever the meal barrel was low, going to and fro on the road be- tween his mother's house and Mrs. Dar- ricott's mill on the Pamunkey River, mounted on a bag that was thrown across a pony that was guided by a rope-bridle; and thus he became fami- liarly known by the people living on the line of his travel as the " Mill- boy of the Slashes." So the boy grew up in rude country life till, at the age of four- teen, his mother contracting a second marriage with a gentleman of charac- ter, Mr. Henry Watkins, and removing with her husband to Kentucky, he was left behind in a situation in a retail store at Richmond. He was not long in the employment, for we find him the next year, through the agency of his stepfather, who appears to have appre- ciated the lad, engaged in the office of Mr. Peter Tinsley, clerk of the High Court of Chancery. His time was so well spent here, gaining the reputation of an intelligent, studious youth, intent upon his book, while others were at their games or dissipations, that he was so fortunate as to secure the atten tion of no less a personage than the venerable Chancellor Wythe, who, it will be remembered, also exercised an important influence over the early years of Jefferson. The chancellor, whose trembling hand needed assistance, struck by the ability of the youth, employed him as his amanuensis, a position which brought him directly into contact with the superior resour- ces of one of the most cultivated and 146 HENRY CLAY. refined minds in Virginia. The chan- cellor was a good linguist, eminently skilled in composition, and of a friendly turn to impart his knowledge to his assistant; so that the copyist became in a measure his privileged pupil. The legal reports and comments which he took down from the chancellor's dicta- tion must also have imparted some familiarity with the law. From Mr. Tinsley's office young Clay went to re- side with Mr. Robert Brooke, at that time attorney general of the State, with whom he advanced sufficiently far in the study of the law to secure a license in the Court of Appeals to practise the profession. With this certificate, the only property which he possessed, he set out, at the close of 1797, to seek his fortune in Kentucky. Alighting at Lexington, then a small village, but the most important place in the region, he opened an office and began his career as an advocate. His quickness of parts and ready adaptabil- ity gave him immediate success. Nature had bestowed upon him a fine voice, and those mental and physical harmonies indispensable to the orator. His gen- ius led him to cultivate a habit of speaking, which with experience and development ripened into the highest eloquence. His method early in life was daily to read in some historical or scientific book, and deliver the inform- ation which he thus acquired in a set speech, alone by himself in the woods or fields, or some lonely barn "with the horse and ox for his only auditors." He was candid enough to declare this in after life to a class of law students, a positive assertion of what may al- ways be suspected, that eminent suc- cess, even with men of genius, is never without some such patient skill and labor in the acquisition of its powers. Even the rich nature of Henry (Hay, which lived and breathed in eloquence, required some training of its wonder- ful faculties. The anecdote is told of his carrying his private practice into a debating society, and commencing: " Gentlemen of the Jury," with some embarrassment, when he at once, on striking into the subject, earned his hearers along on a tide of eloquence and argument. A speaker of these persuasive pow- ers, skilful, ready, fluent, infusing en- thusiasm into his argument, became naturally engaged in criminal prac- tice, in the defence of life, where a jury might be moved by his impressive elo- quence. He was eminently successful in such cases, always, it is said, even in the most desperate, saving the life of his client. His ability in civil cases was equally marked, for he had always a rare executive talent in whatsoever he undertook. It was inevitable that talents such as he possessed, in a new country where personal influence is every- thing, should draw him into the sphere of public life. We accordingly find him, the very year of his removal to Kentucky, engaged in the discussion of the provisions for the State con- stitution then being adjusted. He strongly advocated a clause for the gradual emancipation of slaves, fear- less of the unpopularity to which he subjected himself. The following year his eloquent voice was heard at a pub- HENRY CLAY. 147 lie gathering in denunciation of the Alien and Sedition Laws of 1798. The audience was addressed by Mr. George Nicholas, a leading member of the bar, who was followed by Mr. Clay. The topic, involving a strong popular appeal to liberty, was well suited to his ability; and so powerful- ly did he hold the attention of the as- sembly, that he carried it for a time beyond the point of applause—to breathless silence. Both speakers were drawn by the people through the town in triumph. Four years after this, Mr. Clay was chosen a member of the Kentucky le- gislature from the county of Fayette, and distinguished himself in the pro- ceedings of that body, his practice of the law meanwhile growing in import- ance. It was a maxim with him never to refuse his professional assistance to any client who might stand in need of a disinterested and fearless advocate, a resolution which was tested in a memo- rable instance, in his appearing in an assault and battery case, in behalf of a tavern-keeper of Frankfort, against Col. Daviess,.the United States district at- torney. Mr. Clay pushed his adversa- ry with his accustomed boldness, and was challenged by the colonel. Ready as Jackson himself to meet an antago- nist in this way, he waived any court privileges which he might have plead- ed, and accepted it. The affair, how- ever, was happily terminated by the Interposition of friends. There was a like generosity, in a case of greater interest, in his defence of Aaron Burr, for which he would accept no fee, thinking it an occasion for generos- ity toward an eminent man in misfor tune. He first, however, received a pledge in writing from Burr that he had no treasonable intent in his pro- ceedings, and, finding afterward that he had been deceived, received Burr so coldly when he next met him, some time after in New York, that the ac- quaintance could not be renewed. In 1806, Mr. Clay was chosen by the legislature of Kentucky to fill a vacan- cy in the United States Senate, taking his seat, unchallenged, before his thir- tieth year, the period required by the Constitution. He engaged at once ac- tively in the business of the session, advocating thus early in his Congres- sional course, a system of internal im- provements—which became afterwards so important a test of his political career. The term which he had been elected to supply having nearly ex pired on his entrance, he was but a sin- gle session in the Senate, after which he was again returned to the Kentucky legislature, where he had the opportu- nity, pleading for the common law with rare eloquence and feeling, to defeat an illiberal motion to exclude English law precedents from the courts of the State. When the first measures of Jefferson's administration on the* em- bargo were taken, on occasion of the promulgation of the British Orders in Council, he introduced resolutions strongly approving of the foreign poli- cy of the government. They were Car- ried by a vote of sixty-four to one, Mr. Humphrey Marshall constituting the minority. Shortly after, this gen- tleman expressing contempt for a pro- position made by Mj- Clay for mem 148 HENRI bers to assist the measures of the time by dressing themselves in gar- ments of native manufacture, a quar- rel between them ensued, which re- sulted in a hostile meeting. Shots were twice exchanged, Mr. Marshall in the first instance and Mr. Clay in the second being slightly wounded. At the close of 1809, Mr. Clay again took his seat in the Senate, a second time chosen to fill a vacancy. The first speech which he delivered was after- wards referred to for its advocacy of an American policy. It was on an in- cidental amendment to an appropria- tion for munitions of war, giving pre- ference to certain articles of native growth and manufacture. He also sup- ported Mr. Madison in his assertion of the claims of the country to western Florida as an integral portion of the Louisiana cession, taking occasion to denounce the threatened wrath of Eng- land. " Is the rod of British power," he asked, " to be forever suspended over our heads ? Whether we assert our rights by sea or attempt their mainte- nance by land—whithersoever we turn ourselves, this phantom incessantly pur- sues us." His report in favor of the preemption rights of settlers on the public lands may also be mentioned as an indication of his future policy. At the next session, the subject of the re- newal of the charter of the United States Bank being before Congress, he spoke in opposition to the measure, on the ground of the old Republican party, with which he was thus far iden- tified. The term for which he was elected to the Senate having expired, and CLAY. his services being needed in the more popular branch of the legislature, at the appearance of the cloud of war already on the horizon, he was, in 1811, elected a member of the House of Representatives. To meet the exigent-)' of the times, Congress was summoned a month in advance, in November. On the first ballot on taking his seat, Henry Clay was chosen speaker, a distinguished honor for a new member, and a rare proof of the sagacity of the members. At(the next Congress the honor was repeated, and on three other occasions in the House of Representatives. His apt, ready, graceful talents, his prompt courtesy, and readiness in all parliamentary du- ties, made him, of all men, the most suitable for the office. His views in reference to the vindication of the coun- try by a spirited foreign policy were well understood, and he carried them out in his appointment of the Committee on Foreign Relations, of which Porter of New York was placed at the head, and John C. Calhoun, who presently suc- ceeded him on his retirement, second. Mr. Clay spoke earnestly in favor of the increase of the army and navy, and advocated the new embargo as " a direct precursor of war." He was one of the young and fiery spirits of the country in the House—a leader with Calhoun—in vindicating and stimulat- ing the declaration of war, and its ear- nest prosecution. War was declared in June, and, shortly after, Congress adjourned. At its next session Mr. Clay, on the eighth of January, 1813, delivered a speech in defence of the new army bill, which has been consi- HENRY dered one of his most eloquent efforts. Unhappily it is imperfectly reported, but enough remains to mark his mas- tery of the occasion. Having thus so greatly distinguished himself in the prosecution of the war, when a prospect of peace was opened, through the friendly assistance of the Russian government, he was chosen en- voy extraordinary, in conjunction with Mr. Jonathan Russell, to join his con- federates, Messrs. Gallatin, Bayard and Adams, who were already in Europe, in the negotiations. He accepted this duty, took leave of the House as speaker in an appropriate address, in January, 1814, sailed from New York immediately after, and was with his colleagues at Ghent at the opening of negotiations. The general concurrence of the en- voys in the proceedings which took place, leaves little for special mention of Mr. Clay's part, beyond his resolute refusal to renew the concession of the treaty of 1783 of the mutual right of navigation of the Mississippi. He thought the purchase of Louisiana had since greatly altered the question, and that the river had become as peculiar a part of the United States as the Hud- son or the Potomac. On the other hand, the old treaty had given to the Americans certain fishing privileges on the coast of British America, which hung upon the same tenure as the claim to the navigation of the Mississ- ippi, namely, the treaty of Paris. The conflict of these pretensions divided the commissioners, when Mr. Clay par- tially gave his consent to set off one against the other. ii.—19 The British, however, were not will- ing to adopt the alternative, and both were dropped. In personal intercourse with the British commissioners, Mr. Goulburn and Lord Gambier, Mr. Clay seems to have borne a chief part. It fell to him to explain the awkward cir- cumstance of the publication in Ameri- ca of an early part of the negotiations which was returned to England, while the treaty was yet pending. A story is told, also, of his receiving one morn- ing at Brussels, by his servant, a pack- age of newspapers, a usual courtesy, from the British negotiators, but this time rendered more interesting by the papers containing an account of the burning of Washington. He not long after took occasion to send a file of newspapers in return, having some in- telligence on the subject of the Indians which was required in the negotiation —the same papers repaying the Wash- ington item with a narrative of McDo- nough's affair at Lake Champlain. The anecdote is of no great importance, but it exhibits the sensitiveness of the American negotiators. Clay said after- wards, when he heard at Paris of the battle of New Orleans, the treaty hav- ing been some time before concluded, " Now, I can go to England without mortification." At this visit to Paris, the period of Bonaparte's exile at Elba, Mr. Clay was received with great favor in society. Among other distinguished persons whom he met was Madame de Stael, at a ball given by M. Hottinger, the banker, on occasion of the peace be- tween the United States and Great Bri- tain, when the following dialogue oc- 150 HENRY CLAY curred: "Ah!" said she, "Mr. Clay, I have been in England, and have been battling your cause for you there." " I know it madame; we heard of your powerful interposition, and we are very grateful and thankful for it." "They were very much enraged against you," said she; " so much so that they at one time thought seriously of sending the Duke of Wellington to command their armies against you!" " I am very sorry, madame," replied Mr. Clay, " that they did not send his Grace." "Why?" asked she, surprised. "Be- cause, madame, if he had beaten us we should only have been in the con- dition of Europe without disgrace. But if we had been so fortunate as to defeat him, we should greatly have added to the renown of our arms." She afterwards introduced Mr. Clay to the duke at her own house, and related the conversation. The duke replied, that " if he had been sent on the service, and he had been so for- tunate as to gain a victory, he would have regarded it as the proudest fea- ther in his cap." * On passing over to England, after the ratification of the treaty, Mr. Clay was equally well received by Lord Castlereagh. Eng- land was then in good humor with the victory of Waterloo, which had just been fought. Before it was as- certained what had become of Bona- parte, Mr. Clay was one day at dinner with the nobleman just mentioned, and the possible flight of the emperor to America was touched upon. " If he goes there will he not give you a 1 Sargent's Life of Clay, p. 19. o-reat deal of trouble ?" said Lord Liv- erpool to the American envoy. " Not in the least, my lord;' was the reply: "we shall be very glad to receive him; we would treat him with all hospitality, and very soon make a good democrat of him." Mr. Clay arrived again at New York, in September, was welcomed in the city at a public entertainment, and pursued to his home in Kentucky by the hospitality and enthusiasm of the people. The members of his dis- trict had already elected him to Con- gress, but some doubts arising as to the legality of the proceeding, he was again unanimously chosen. On his appearance, in December, at the open- ing of the House, he was a third time, by a large majority, seated in the speaker's chair. It is pleasing to note the constancy and unanimity with which this honor was conferred, on this accomplished man through a series of years, at the meetings of successive Congresses. His new duties proved not less important than those which he had left behind him in bringing the war to a conclusion by a treaty of peace. That war had been accomplished; there now remained the revival of the country after the wearisome conflict, the readjustment of its finances, the establishment of its industry. These became especially the arts of our states- man, loud as his voice had been for war, and well adapted as his genius was for its active pursuit. It is said that at one time, at the beginning of the struggle, President Madison thought of calling him into the field as com- mander in chief of the American forces. HENRY CLAY. 151 He doubtless would have made a brave and resolute officer, and his cour- age and rare executive talent might have anticipated the honors and reaped the rewards destined for his Tennes- see rival. But it was not in war that his laurels were to be gained. They were to be earned in quite a dif- ferent field. While Jackson passes down to posterity as the defender of New Orleans, Henry Clay will be re- membered as the friend to labor and industry, the father of the American System. In the Congress of 1816, Mr. Clay began that policy of internal improve- ments, protection to manufactures, and bank advocacy which became the dis- tinguishing tests of the great party of which he was to be so long the leader —a party enjoying many triumphs and 3ome sore defeats, which was to live mainly.through him, yet by which he was to be denied in its period of au- thority, when the Presidency was in its power, his well-earned reward. It must be admitted, however, that the struggle was long, and that no party devotion could be stronger than that manifested by the Whigs to their be- loved leader. The change of his views on the subject of a United States Bank, of which, having formerly, as we have seen, been the opponent—we have seen it stated that his speech of 1811 was the stronghold of Jackson's memorable opinions on that subject— he now became the zealous advocate, is to be accounted for on the principle of that old philosophical adage, "The times are changed, and we are changed with them." A national bank seefued, in 1816, the only solution of the finan cial difficulties of the times, the low state of the public credit and the gene- ral disorganization of the currency. It was accepted as such by President Ma- dison, who recommended the measure, and by Mr. Calhoun, who devoted him- self zealously to the subject, and intro- duced the bill to the House. Mr. Clay supported it. At the next election Mr. Clay, for the first and only time in his long career as a representative of the people of his State in Congress, was subjected to the test of canvassing for his seat. A bill had been introduced in the House for which Mr. Clay voted, pro- viding an annual salary of fifteen hun- dred dollars for members in place of the old six dollars a day, and giving to the speaker a salary of three thousand dollars. This provoked opposition in Kentucky, and Mr. Clay was obliged to take the stump. Mr. Pope was his competitor. Several good stories are related of the canvass—one of a char- acteristic western dialogue with an old hunter, whom the candidate circum- vented by a judicious appeal to his rifle. " Have you a good rifle, my friend?" asked Mr. Clay. "Yes." "Did it ever flash?" "Once only." " Did you throw it away on that ac- count ?" " No, I picked the flint and tried it again." " Have I ever flashed but upon the compensation bill ?" " No." " Will you throw me away ?" " No, no ; I will pick the flint and try you again." A story coupled with this in the campaign biographies is still better. It should be premised that Mr. Pope, the opposition candidate, 152 HENRY CLAY had in his early days lost an arm. There was an Irish barber in Lexing- ton, one Jeremiah Murphy, whom Clay on some occasion had helped out of prison, who was observed, contrary to the loquacious habits of his race, to be silent on the subject of his vote. A friend of Clay was bent upon sound- ing him, and, at length obtained an answer. " I tell you what, docthur, I mane to vote for the man that can put but one hand into the treasury." Clay was elected over his opponent, and took his seat, again to be elected Speaker in the new Congress. It was the first session under the administra- tion of Mr. Monroe, and is signalized in the history of Mr. Clay by his efforts in behalf of the recognition by the government of the political inde- pendence of the South American Re- publics. He undertook this champion- ship with a chivalric earnestness, and resolutely as ever political knight errant tilted for a favorite measure, pursued it to the end and victory. He had bro- ken ground on this theme in his speech on the state of the Union, in January, 1816 ; he now followed it up at every opportunity, when the conduct of Spain in the Florida claim was under discus- sion, and when an appropriation for the Commissioners of Inquiry sent to South America was before the House. He would have a minister accredited to the Independent Provinces of La Plata. His speech on this occasion, singled out as one of his masterpieces, was delivered in March, 1818 ; but the end he desired was not gained. He did not lose sight of it; but it was not till February, 1821, that he had the satisfaction of introducing his resolu tion pledging the House to the sup- port of the President when he should deem it expedient to recognize the in- dependence of the Provinces, and, after battling it in a private debate, seeing it at last triumphant. The President acted in accordance with the intima- tion in bringing the matter directly before the House, which adopted the measure with but one dissenting voice. The conduct of this question was highly creditable to Clay's disinterest- ed feeling. " His zeal in the cause," as his biographer remarks, " was unal- loyed by one selfish impulse, or one personal aim. He could hope to gain no political capital by his course. He appealed to no sectional interest, sus- tained no party policy, labored for no wealthy client, secured the influence of no man, or set of men, in his cham- pionship of a remote, unfriended and powerless people."1 In a like spirit, some years-after, in 1823, he brought his eloquence to the aid of Mr. Webster, in his advocacy of the recognition of Greece in her struggle for indepen- dence. In reference to the threatened danger from the measure to our com- merce in the Mediterranean, he said " a wretched invoice of figs and opium has been spread before us to repress our sensibilities and eradicate our human- ity. Ah, sir, 'what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul V or what shall it avail a nation to save the whole of a miserable trade and lose its liberties ?" In the discussion of the Missouri 1 Sargent's Clay, p. 25. HENRY CLAY. 153 question, Mr. Clay bore a prominent part. He was opposed to the exclu- sion of slavery, and labored earnestly to impress his views upon the House, which, by a small majority, maintained the contrary opinion. We first hear of him at this time in connection with a word with which his fame was to be afterwards identified—Compromise. The House, after accepting the unre- stricted admission of the State in the Missouri bill, and what is known as the Missouri Compromise, establish- ing the northern limit of slavery, became irritated by a clause in the Missouri constitution, proposing to ex- clude free negroes and mulattoes from the State. To meet this difficulty, and any question of the violation of the right of citizenship which might be involved in the condition, Mr. Clay, as chairman of a committee which he had proposed, brought forward a reso- lution admitting the State, provided that no law was to be passed prevent- ing the settlement of persons citizens of any other State. The resolution was negatived at the time, but he shortly after moved a joint commit- tee of the House and Senate, which was accepted and the admission ad- justed substantially on his basis. Before this question was determined, Mr. Clay, anxious to give attention to his fortunes at home, had resigned his seat in the House, but was prevailed upon to retain it till the conclusion of this struggle, one of the severest in the annals of Congressional warfare. He then retired and devoted himself to his professional labors for nearly three years, when he was again elected, without opposition, to the House of Representatives, of which he became yet once more Speaker. It was the time of Lafayette's passage through the country, in 1824, and when the chieftain visited Washington, it fell to the Speaker to welcome him to the House. Most gracefully was the duty discharged, in an address which, though brief, was charged with flowing elo- quence. Few, if any, of the orators in Congress could, like Mr. Clay, in so few words, embark his audience on a swelling tide of sentiment. Set off by his musical utterance, the charm was doubly assured. " The vain wish has been sometimes indulged," was his language in this admired composition, " that Providence would allow the patriot, after death, to return to his country and to contemplate the inter- mediate changes which had taken place—to view the forests felled, the cities built, the mountains levelled, the canals cut, the highways constructed, the progress of the arts, the advance- ment of learning, and the increase of population. General, your present visit to the United States is a realization of the controlling object of that wish. You are in the midst of posterity. Everywhere you must have been struck with the great changes, physical and moral, which have occurred since you left us. Even this very city, bearing a venerated name, alike endeared to you and to us, has since emerged from the forest which then covered its site. In one respect you find us unaltered, and that is in the sentiment of conti- nued devotion to liberty, and of ardent affection and profound gratitude to 154 HENRY CLAY. your departed friend, the Father of his Country, and to you and your illustri- ous associates in the field and in the cabinet, for the multiplied blessings which surround us, and for the very privilege of addressing you, which I now exercise. This s'entiment, now fondly cherished by more than ten mil- lions of people, will be transmitted with unabated vigor, down the tide of time, through the countless millions who are destined to inhabit this conti- nent, to the latest posterity." The popularity of Mr. Clay, the na- tionality of his views, and above all, his constant devotion to public life, marked him out, distinctly as Andrew Jackson himself, in the line for the Presidency. In the election of 1824 both were for the first time in the field, John Quincy Adams, and Crawford, of Georgia, being the other candidates. Clay was nominated by his friends in Kentucky, and other western States. The electoral vote was ninety-nine for Jackson, eighty-four for Adams, forty- one for Crawford, and thirty-seven for Clay—the votes of Ohio, Missouri, Kentucky, and four from New York. No one having the necessary majority, the choice, according to the provision of the Constitution, was to be made by the House of Representatives from the three highest. Mr. Clay was conse- quently excluded, but he held the con- trol of the election in the vote of Ken- tucky, which was cast for Adams, and consequently against Jackson, Crawford being removed from the arena by a fatal illness. This preference of Adams by Clay was considered a violation of party allegiance by his democratic friends, and naturally rendered him odious to the disappointed Jacksonites. whose principle, controlled by the iron will of their chief, was always to be un- sparing to their political opponents. The storm rose still higher when Mr. Clay accepted office under Adams as Secretary of State—an error of pol- icy, as he afterwards admitted, for it drew upon him a charge of bargainings and corruption, of being bought over to the interests of the candidate whom his vote had elected, by this prize of office. Conscious of his own integrity in the matter, he said, when the admi- nistration he had served had long passed away, he' had " underrated the power of detraction and the force of ignorance." If the detractors had stopped to consider, they might have found honorable grounds for his pre- ference. He had already placed him- self in a certain antagonism to Jackson by his speech in 1819, in the House, in favor of rebuking the assumptions of power by the military chieftain in the Seminole war; and though his course on that occasion was purely patriotic, with no unfriendly feeling to the man, his judgment of his qualifications for the Presidency could not fail to be in- fluenced by the issue. He doubtless also looked upon Adams as one more likely to pursue his own favorite pol- icy of internal improvements and do- mestic manufactures. As for any bar- gain in the case, it was disproved by Clay's avowed preference of Adams to Jackson before the occasion arose. Nothing could be more natural than that Mr. Adams should, on his own account, seek to support his adminis- HENRY CLAY. 155 tration by the services of such a man as Mr. Clay, in the office of Secretary of State. For the time, however, the enemies of the new secretary had the ear of the public. An occasion arose in the sec- ond year of the administration which brought the matter to a personal issue. We have seen Mr. Clay's advocacy of the independence of the South American Republics. In accordance with his old views, he was now bent upon a further association with their cause in the pro- motion of a great cis-Atlantic Ameri- can policy in the appointment of a de- legation to the congress at Panama, which was invited by the Mexican and Central American representatives at Washington. John Randolph, whose genius had often been in opposition to Mr. Clay, opposed the measure with the full force of his argument and in- vective. In a speech in the Senate he went so far as to throw out an intima- tion that the " invitation" to action proceeded from the office of the Secre- tary of State, and in an allusion of great bitterness, denounced the union of Adams and Clay as " a coalition of Blifil and Black George, a combin- ation, unheard of till then, of the puri- tan with the blackleg." The venom of the attack, pointing a charge of fraud with such cunning emphasis, brought from Mr. Clay a challenge. It was accepted by Randolph, and the duel was fought on the banks of the Potomac. The first fire of neither took effect, though both shots were well aimed. At the second, Mr. Clay's bul- let pierced his antagonist's coat. Ran- dolph, as he had all along intended, though he was diverted from this course in the first instance, fired his pistol in the air, upon which Mr. Clay advanced with great emotion, exclaim- ing, " I trust in God, my dear sir, you are untouched; after what has occurred, I would not have harmed you for a thousand worlds." * It was a duel which should not have been fought; there was no hate between two such chi- valrous opponents, who understood one another's better qualities, and the joy at the harmless termination of the affair was sincere on both sides. Years after, when Randolph was about leaving Washington for the last time, just before his death, he was brought to the Senate. " I have come," he said, as he was helped to a seat while Clay was speaking, " to hear that voice." The courtesy, burying long years of political controversy, was met at the conclusion of his remarks with his accustomed magnanimity by the orator. " Mr. Randolph, I hope you are better, sir," he said, as he ap- proached him. " No, sir," was the reply ; " I am a dying man, and I came here expressly to have this interview with you." The sun of that brilliant existence, a checkered day of darkness and splendor, went not down upon his wrath. It was the spring of 1833 when this memorable incident occurred, the period when Mr. Clay was advo- cating the compromise of the tariff, to save the country from what appeared to him impending civil war. Ran- dolph, in one of his county Virginia speeches, had previously pointed to the 1 Garland's Life of John Randolph, II. 260.—Benton's Thirty Years' View, I. 76. 156 HENRY CLAY. Kentucky orator for this service. " There is one man," said he, " and one man only, who can save this Union: that man is Henry Clay. I know he has the power; I-believe he will be found to have the patriotism and firm- ness equal to the occasion." 1 Previously to that, however, a new administration was to enter on the scene. Mr. Clay, having filled the office of Secretary of State with emi- nent usefulness to the country, particu- larly in the management of the foreign questions of trade and negotiation which arose, retired with the ill-fated Adams to make way for the victorious hero of New Orleans. The retirement of the secretary, however, in face of ,the new power, was not without its consolations in the tributes of his friends and the public. On his way to his home at Ashland—he had married on his first arrival in the country, and had now a rising family around him— he was received everywhere with en- thusiasm. The citizens of Lexington, following the example of other towns on his route, gave him a complimentary banquet. Like honors were paid the politician in retirement, on occasion of a family visit to New Orleans, at that city and along his route. Powers like his, how- ever, were not long to rest unused in the service of the State. At the close of 1831 he was elected to the Senate, and, about the same time, nominated for the Presidency by the National Re- publican Convention at Baltimore. In the Senate he advocated the recharter of * Garland's Randolph, II. 362. the United States Bank, which was car- ried, and then vetoed by the President. He also set forth at length the principles of his American system of Protection, in the discussion on the tariff, which end- ed favorably to his policy. Some amendments were made, relieving non- protected articles, but the concession did not satisfy the growing hostility of the South. The South Carolina Nulli- fication resolutions passed in November, 1832, were followed by the famous Proclamation of Jackson in December, and the Force Bill in the Senate of the ensuing January. At this moment, realizing the prediction of Randolph already cited, Clay in February intro- duced his Compromise bill, providing for a gradual reduction of the obnox- ious tariff. It was accepted in the emergency by all parties in the country and the threatened storm passed over. In the mean time the Presidential election had occurred, demonstrating an extraordinary advance in the popu- larity of the omnipotent Jackson. The contest was between him and Clay, the latter receiving, out of two hun- dred and eighty-eight, but forty-nine votes—those of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Delaware, Mary- land and Kentucky. Thus, strongly fortified, Jackson commenced his sec- ond term, inaugurating his new rule. by his much discussed act, the removal of the deposits from the Bank of the United States. It created a storm of opposition, as a violent, unconstitu- tional act, which found vent in the Senate in Mr. Clay's resolution of cen- sure, introduced at the opening of the new Congress, and with some modifica- HENRY tion adopted in the following March; the famous resolution which became the subject of Mr. Benton's slow and pertinacious hostility till he triumphed in the passage of his Expunging Act. Not even the eloquence of Clay, exert- ed to the last, could resist the well ordered drill of the Jackson parlia- mentary forces. Previously to the winter session of 1833, Mr. Clay made a visit to the northern cities of the sea- board, extending his journey as far as Boston. It was one continued popular triumph. Had he occupied the Presi- dential chair he could have received no more attention. There was always something in the man which inspired the enthusiasm of the people. In 1835 Mr. Clay was enabled to render a signal service to the country by the interposition of his report as chairman of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, checking the prompt measures of Jackson for the recovery of the debt due from France, and giving that nation an opportunity of reconsidering its legislation—a delay which resulted in the payment of the debt, in place of a fierce and expensive war. A third time did Mr. Clay thus perform the part, in Congress, of the great pacifica- tor. On the conclusion of his senator- ial term he was again chosen, and con- .tinued in the office to the completion of the new period in 1842. Harrison meanwhile had come into office, havin^ received the nomination of the Harris- burg Convention over Clay, who was a popular candidate, and Mr. Tyler had, in a short month, fallen heir to the Presidency. The whig party, led by Clay, was for a time in the asceud- ii.—20 CLAY. 157 ant, but its measures were steadily re- sisted by the new President. It would be unjust to the memory of Henry Clay, in the briefest narrative of his career, not to pause at his sol- emn, affecting leave-taking of the Sen- ate. It was inspired throughout by feeling and manly courtesy, and, deli- vered with his graceful elocution, affected his audience to tears. No act of the kind was ever performed with more genuine emotion. The rich na- ture of the man, ardent, lofty, sympa- thetic, was poured forth in one contin- ued strain of touching eloquence. He spoke of his long public duties, of the trials and rewards of his career, of the motives which had nerved him and of the kindness with which he had been received. His tribute to Ken- tucky was an outburst of gratitude which the State should cherish among her proudest records. " Everywhere," said he, " throughout the extent of this great continent, I have had cordial, warm-hearted, faithful and devoted friends, who have known me, loved me, and appreciated my motives. To them, if language were capable of fully expressing my acknowledgments, I would now offer all the return I have the power to make for their genuine, disinterested, and persevering fidelity and devoted attachment, the feelings and sentiments of a heart overflowing with never-ceasing gratitude. If, how- ever, I fail in suitable language to ex- press my gratitude to them for all the kindness they have shown me, what shall I say, what can I say at all com- mensurate with those feelings of grati- tude with which I have been insnired 158 HENRY by the State whose humble representa- tive and servant I have been in this chamber ? I emigrated from Virginia to the State of Kentucky now nearly forty-five years ago: I went as an or- phan boy who had not yet attained the age of majority; who had never recognized a father's smile nor felt his warm caresses; poor, penniless, without the favor of the great, with an imper- fect and neglected education, hardly sufficient for the ordinary business and common pursuits of life; but scarce had I set my foot upon her generous soil when I was embraced with paren- tal fondness, caressed as though I had been a favorite child, and patronized with liberal and unbounded munifi- cence. From that period the highest honors of the State have been freely bestowed upon me; and when, in the darkest hour of calumny and detrac- tion, I seemed to be assailed by all the rest of the world, she interposed her broad and impenetrable shield, repelled the poisoned shafts that were aimed for my destruction, and vindicated my good name from every malignant and unfounded aspersion. I return with indescribable pleasure to linger a while longer, and mingle with the warm- hearted and whole-souled people of that State; and when the last scene shall forever close upon me, I hope that my earthly remains will be laid under her green sod, with those of her gallant and patriotic sons." His apology for any offence he might have committed in the heat of debate was uttered as he only could utter it, when he turned for a moment to the contemplation of the nobler struggles CLAY. of eloquence the Senate had witnessed. In conclusion, he invoked " the most precious blessings of heaven " upon all and each, and " that most cheering and gratifying of all human rewards, the cordial greeting of their constituents, ' Well done, good and faithful servant.' And now," he ended, " Mr. President and senators, I bid you all a long, a lasting, and a friendly farewell." The farewell was honestly taken, but it was not to be long or lasting. He returned home, visited New Orleans again in the winter, and, as formerly, was called upon to address the public in advocacy of the measures with which he was identified. He was again looked to as a candidate for the Presidency, with the most earnest anticipations of his success. He was nominated at Baltimore by the Convention; Mr. Polk was arrayed in opposition to him on the Texas annexation question, and he was a third time defeated. His course was a manly one. He had spo- ken out frankly on the Texas issue, as involving a war with Mexico, and his prediction came to pass. He had the proud satisfaction of saying, "I had rather be right than President." The vote stood one hundred and seventy for Mr. Polk and one hundred and five for Mr. Clay—the large votes of Penn- sylvania and New York being gained by small majorities. The entire popu- lar vote stood for Polk, 1,336,196 ; for Clay, 1,297,912, with a small vote for Birney, the abolition candidate—so near did Mr. Clay come to the Presi dency and fail of reaching it. His friends, the large party which he repre- sented, would have rallied upon him in CLAY. 159 1848, but the party movers had been taught the value of expediency, and the magic of a military reputation. Clay was strong on the first ballot in the Convention, but General Taylor received the nomination, and was borne into the office, like Harrison, soon to yield it to the universal Conqueror. Mr. Clay, during this time, was liv- ing in comparative retirement at Ash- land, engaged in the occasional practice of his profession, and receiving the visits of his friends. He had a sin- gular proof of their kindness in the unexpected payment of a mortgage on his estate. It became known that he was involved by the loan of his name. A subscription was taken up in the chief Atlantic cities, and at New Or- leans, and the full amount—more than twenty-five thousand dollars—deposit- ed to his credit in the Northern Bank of Kentucky. Other evidences of kindness poured in upon him, consola- tory to his years and trials—for he was now to reap the bitter fruit of the Mexican war, certainly not of his plant- ing, in the death of his son Henry, at the battle of Buena Vista. About this time, carrying out a resolve pre- viously formed, he attached himself to the ' Episcopal church, was baptized and confirmed and partook the sacra- ment. In 1849, having been elected for the full term, he was seated again in the Senate of the United States. His Compromise Resolutions of 1850, touch- ing the new territorial questions aris- ing . out of the Mexican war, were the last great parliamentary efforts of his career. He proposed that Califoruia should be admitted without restriction as to the introduction or exclusion of slavery ; that " slavery not existing by law, and not likely to be introduced into any territory acquired by the United States from the republic of Mexico, it was inexpedient for Congress to provide by law either for its intro- duction into, or exclusion from, any part of said territory ; and that appro- priate territorial governments ought to be established by Congress in all of said territory not assigned as the boun- daries of the proposed State of Cali fornia, without the adoption of any restriction or condition on the subject of slavery;" that " it is inexpedient to abolish slavery in the District of Co- lumbia, while that institution contin- ues to exist in the State of Maryland, without the consent of that State, without the consent of the people of the District, and without just compen- sation to the owners of slaves within the District; but that it is expedient to prohibit within the District the slave trade, in slaves brought into it from States or places beyond the limits of the District, either to be sold there- in as merchandise, or to be transported to other markets, without the District of Columbia." In another resolution he declared more effectual provision should be made for the restitution and delivery of persons held to service or labor in any State, who may escape into any other State or Territory in the Union, and that " Congress has no power to prohibit or obstruct trade in slaves be- tween the slaveholding States; but that the admission or exclusion of 160 nENRY CLAY. slaves, brought from one into another of them, depends exclusively upon their own particular laws." Such, with a stipulation for the debt and bounda- ries of Texas, were the provisions with which Mr. Clay sought to put at rest the formidable agitation which arose out of the slavery question. The ad- mission of California, the adjustment of the Texas debt, the organization of the Territories of New Mexico and Utah, the prohibition of the slave trade in the District of Columbia, and the Fugitive Slave Law, were all in ac- cordance with these recommendations. In the Congress of 1850-51, under the Presidency of Mr. Fillmore, Mr. Clay was in his seat, battling for his old issues of the tariff and internal im- provements. In the following year he returned once more to the Senate, too ill and enfeebled to take any active part in its proceedings. The consump- tion which was wearing out his life soon confined him to his room, where his last act partaking of a public na- ture was his reception of the Hunga- rian patriot, Kossuth. He compliment- ed the zealous orator on his fascinating eloquence, " fearing," he said, "to come under its influence, lest his faith might be shaken in some principles in regard to the foreign policy of this govern- ment, which he had long and constantly cherished." The principles which he feared might be endangered were those recommended by Washington's Fare- well Address, advising no interference beyond the influence of our example with the internal difficulties of Europe. " Far better,1' he said, " is it for our- selves, for Hungary and for the cause of liberty, that adhering to our wise, pacific system, and avoiding the dis- tant wars of Europe, we should keep our lamp burning brightly on this wes- tern shore, as a light to all nations, than to hazard its utter extinction amid the ruins of fallen or falling republics in Europe." The brief remaining record is of the sick chamber, the wasting of bodily strength, the solicitude of friends, the ministrations of religion, of which this noble hearted man, accustomed to rule Senates and control the policy of the nation, was as penitent, resigned, hum- ble a participant as any in the thronged myriads whom the eloquence of his voice had ever reached. He died, the aged patriot, at the full age of seventy- five, at his lodgings in the National Ho- tel of Washington, " with perfect com- posure, without a groan or struggle," June 29, 1852. In the announcement of his death to the Senate, his colleague, Mr. Joseph R. Underwood, touched upon his patri- otic services lightly, for it was not ne- cessary to recall them in that assembly, and dwelt upon the many genial quali- ties of the man, his courage and cour- tesy, the strength with which he would contend, the ease with which he might be conciliated, his fine business tact, his " nice, discriminating taste for or der, symmetry and beauty," the world wide range of his sympathies, extending from home, friends and country; his winning eloquence. " His physical and mental organization," said this speaker, giving expression to the recollections of thousands, " eminently qualified him to become a great and impressive ora- HENRY CLAY. 161 tor. His person was tall, slender, and commanding; his temperament ardent, fearless and full of hope; his counte- nance clear, expressive and variable— indicating the emotion which predomi- nated at the moment with exact simili- tude.1 His voice, cultivated and modu- 1 The person of Mr. Clay was thus described by his biographer, Mr. Colton, in 1845: " Mr. Clay is a tall man, six feet and one inch ; not stout, but the opposite ; has long arms and a small head; always erect in stand- ing, walking or talking; in debate, still more erect; has a well shaped head, and a dauntless profile; an uncom- monly large mouth, upper lip commanding, nose promi- nent, spare visage, and blue eyes, electrical when kindled; forehead high, sloping backward in a curvilinear line, that bespeaks the man ; hair naturally light, and slow to put on the frosts of age ; withal; displaying a well-formed person and imposing aspect, with which, it is supposed, an amateur or connoisseur in human shape and counte- nance would not be likely to find much fault." lated in harmony with the sentiment he desired to express, fell upon the ear like the melody of enrapturing music. His eye beamed with intelligence, his gestures and attitudes were graceful and natural. These personal advan- tages won the prepossessions of an au- dience, even before his intellectual powers began to move his hearers; and when his strong common sense, his pro- found reasoning, his clear conceptions of his subject in all its bearings, and his striking and beautiful illustrations, united with such personal qualities, were brought to the discussion of any question, his audience was enraptured, convinced and led by the orator as if enchanted by the lyre of Orpheus." JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN. Tins eminent statesman, like his con- temporary, Andrew Jackson, was of Irish parentage. His grandfather, James Calhoun of Donegal, with many of the inhabitants of that northern portion of the country a Presbyterian in faith, came to America in the year 1733, bringing with him his son Patrick, a boy six years old. The family first landed in Pennsylvania, were then set- tled for a time in Wythe County, in the western region of Virginia, whence they were driven by the Indian dis- turbances attendant upon the opening of the old French war, to emigrate fur- ther, to South Carolina. In this pro- vince they established themselves at a spot which became known as the Cal- houn settlement, in the Abbeville dis- trict on the upper waters of the Savan- nah, then a remote frontier territory. This southern removal took place in 1756, after the defeat of General Brad- dock, when Virginia lay open to Indian hostilities. It proved in the end an exchange of a single peril for others far more formidable. In South Caro- lina the family were destined to en- counter not merely the Indian in the fierce contests with the Cherokee, in which Patrick Calhoun gained a name among the resolute border heroes of that wild warfare, but the savage Bri- ltt ton and the deadly civil struggle of their own land. The upper country on the Savannah, bordering on Georgia, was the scene, during the Revolution- ary war, of fierce and protracted con- flicts, fought out, not in the great issues of single battles; but in the uninter- rupted, murderous strife of constant invasion. In the years, however, inter- vening between the two struggles, the Calhoun family managed to make good their position in their settlement, so that they were enabled to maintain it against all opposition, though at a fearful cost. Patrick Calhoun, in 1770, married Martha Caldwell, of Virginia, also of Irish Protestant parentage. Three of her brothers were victims oi sufferers in the Revolutionary contest. One was murdered by the Tories by the side of his burning dwelling; ano- ther fell fighting for his country at Cowpens; a third was imprisoned a long time by the English at St. Au- gustine. This horrid strife was just closing in the lingering of the conflict in South Carolina, already determined by the surrender at Yorktown, when John Caldwell Calhoun, the youngest but one of a family of five children, was born at the family settlement, March 18, 1782. The unsettled state of the ! £ <^> Xwn subsequent achieve- ments. It was while in his sopho- more year, during a vacation at home, that the thought of thus benefiting his brother was seriously taken up by him. A whole night was passed in bed between the two youths in con- sultation on the subject, neither clos- ing his eyes; but daylight brought the decision with it, and it was in consequence of the earnest appeal of Daniel that Ezekiel was taken from the plough and placed under the tute- lary care of the beneficent clergyman, Samuel Wood. Thence he passed to college, and we shall see how hand- somely his brother seconded his advice by contributing to his support while there. Immediately on graduatrng, Daniel entered the law office of his father's neighbor, Thomas W. Thompson, a man of some note in his day as a mem- ber of the State legislature, and a Sen- ator in Congress, but he was presently called off from his legal studies by the necessity of making some pecuniary provision for himself, and in this strait accepted the offer of a school at Frye- burg, in Maine. He was led to this step by what was then, to him, the munificent salary of three hundred and fifty dollars a year, " no small thing," he says, " for I compared it not with what might be before me, but what was actually behind me"—a proper method, by the way, of estimating one's for tunes, which would lead to a more gen eral content. In addition to this he continued to get something more of consequence by copying deeds for the registry of the newly created county of Oxford. As exact penmanship was always a troublesome labor to him, we DANIEL may estimate his diligence. Thirty years, he afterward said, had not taken the ache of that exercise out of his fin- gers. His first vacation, in May, 1802, was passed in carrying his quarter's salary to his brother at Hanover, thus devoting his first earnings to an act of fraternal friendship. He left Frye- burg in the autumn, and resumed the study of the law with his father's friend, Mr. Thompson. Like Story, he began with the apex of professional ap- plication, Coke upon Littleton, and such early and obscure authorities, and was grievously disheartened by the process, till luckily, one day, falling upon Espinasse's law of Nisi Prius, he found that he could understand what he read. He always, he said, felt great- ly obliged to that gentleman for his intelligible labors. At the proper time Webster as a law student did not shun the more laborious literature of the profession. He was meanwhile assist- ed at Salisbury by his father's limited income as judge of the Court of Com- mon Pleas for the county. His brother Ezekiel having now gra- duated, after eking out his support through three years of college life, which he made to do the work of four, by winter school teaching, it had be- come necessary, writes Daniel, for one of us to " undertake something that should bring us a little money, for we were getting to be ' heinously unpro- vided.' " The younger brother accord- ingly set off for Boston, secured a- teacher's place in that city for Ezekiel, who in turn invited the elder thither with the promise of pecuniary assistance, I WEBSTER. 177 while he prosecuted his law studies. In this way these brothers labored for one another. Daniel accordingly pro- ceeded to Boston, with the intention of making his way into the law. He had no letters of introduction, and the future ruler of the Boston bar failed in his first attempts to gain admission to an office to study. He however made a vigorous attempt with an eminent man who had been employed in Eng land in the diplomatic service of the country, and who rose to be governor of Massachusetts, Christopher Gore. In the interview the youth was thrown upon his best address, and succeeded in securing the coveted opening. A good library was now accessible to him, with an opportunity which he availed himself of, of attending the higher courts. He read diligently, and made notes of his observations. In 1805 he was admitted to practice in the Suffolk Court of Common Pleas. It was not, however, without a relinquishment of immediate benefit which cost him an effort. Not long before the completion of his legal studies, an office fell va- cant in his father's court, which he was selected to fill. It was a clerkship with an income of fifteen hundred dol- lars a year. Here was wealth for the family to be clutched at with eager- ness. His father thought it a great prize gained, and so did the son, who was hastening to enter this " opening paradise.." when he encountered the ad- vice of Mr. Gore. This learned coun- sellor and man of experience took the matter very coolly, said it was undoubt- edly a complimentary offer, and that 178 DANIEL WEBSTER. he should acknowledge it with all civ- ility—in other words, his monitor wisely pointed out to him the steady path and sure rewards of his profession, in preference to the immediate but un- certain tenure of office. " Go on," was his memorable advice, worthy, in these days of office-seeking and its melan- choly adjuncts, of being written in let- ters of gold on our page—" go on and finish your studies: you are poor enough, but there are greater evils than poverty; live on no man's favor; what bread you do eat, let it be the bread of independence; pursue your profes- sion, make yourself useful to your friends, and a little formidable to your enemies, and you have nothing to fear." Fortified with this invigorating coun- sel, the youth went down to his father and somewhat startled the kind old gentleman, in the first flush of the pro- mised acquisition, by declining it in favor of his future prospects. Was the boy's talk empty flattery, or was it prophecy ? The father, in his reply, seemed uncertain. " Well, my son," said he, and it was all that he said on the subject, " your mother has always said that you would come to something or nothing, she was not sure which; I think you are now about settling that doubt for her." The first return of the youth for this paternal solicitude, when he reached his admission to the bar,- was settling himself by the side of his father, in the neighboring village of Boscawen, in the practice of his pro- fession. He thus solaced," by his com- pany, the last year of that parent's life. Two years and a half were spent in this limited field of legal practice, when he removed to Portsmouth, relinquish- ing his local business to his brother, who was then commencing a career at the bar, which soon led to great distinction in his State, and would, doubtless, have made him as well known to the nation at large, had his life been prolonged. At Portsmouth, Daniel married, in 1808, Miss Grace Fletcher, the daugh- ter of a clergyman of valued 'New England lineage, and there he con- tinued to reside till 1817. In this enlarged sphere, he appears to have met with immediate success, entering at once, not indeed upon a very lucra- tive practice, but sharing the honors of the bar of New Hampshire with some of its most distinguished adepts. He was employed chiefly on the circuit of the Superior Court, where, as leading counsel, he frequently became the antagonist of Jeremiah Mason, then in the height of his vigor. The emu- lation of the young lawyer with this distinguished counsellor, with whom h*e was often associated as well as in opposition, was blended with the warm- est friendship. He often recurred to this period in after life, and when it became his lot, many years later, to perform the final act of courtesy, in pronouncing a eulogy on the decease of his friend, it was in no feigned or guarded words that he spoke. Re- strained by "proprieties of the occa- sion," he would not, he said, in the course of his noble tribute, give utter- •ance to the personal feelings which rose in his heart, in recalling " a sincere, affectionate and unbroken friendship, from the day when I commenced my DANIEL WEBSTER. 179 own professional career to the closing hour of his life. I will not say," he added, "of the advantages which I have derived from this intercourse and conversation, all that Mr. Fox said of Edmund Burke; but I am bound to say, that of my own professional disci- pline and attainments, whatever they may be, I owe much to that close attention to the discharge of my duties, which I was compelled to pay for nine successive years, from day to day, by Mr. Mason's efforts and arguments at the same bar; and I must have' been unintelligent, indeed, not to have learned something from the constant displays of that power, which I had so much occasion to see and to feel." Mr. Webster's residence, at Ports- mouth, saw his introduction into public life. Passing over the usual prelimi- nary experience of service in the State legislature, he was at once, in Novem- ber, 1812, elected by the Federal party, to which he was attached, to the Con- gress of the United States. On taking his seat, in May, 1813, he was appointed by the speaker, Henry Clay, on the important Committee of Foreign Af- fairs. War with England had just been declared, and the news of the repeal of the obnoxious French De- crees and English Orders in Council, which had so grievously injured the commerce of the country, and deeply irritated the mind of the nation, had just come to hand. It was in offering a resolution, in reference to the Berlin and Milan Decrees, calling out the motives of the contest, that Webster, early in the session, delivered his maiden speech. It was listened to, I among others, by Chief Justice Mar- shall, who predicted the future impor- tance of the orator, destined, he wroto to a friend, to become " one of the very first statesmen in America, and perhaps the very first." No full report of the speech has been preserved, but suffi- cient of it is known to justify the con- clusion of Mr. Edward Everett, who sums up its merits, in language, as he intimates, applicable to the whole course of the orator's subsequent par- liamentary efforts. He speaks of the " moderation of tone, precision of state- ment, force of reasoning, absence of ambitious rhetoric and high flown lan- guage, occasional bursts of true elo- quence, and, pervading the whole, a genuine and fervid patriotism." When- ever he spoke, these were his character- istics, which at once gained him the respect of the wisest judgments in the House, which at that time held an unu- sual number of eminent men. Though opposed to some of the prom- inent measures of the administration of Madison, he was not its factious oppo- nent. He was ardent for the mainte- nance of the rights of his country, though he differed with the party in power as to the best means of securing them. He thought the force of the nation was weakened by attempts at invasion on the frontiers, and maintained that a well manned navy was a better defence for the seaboard than an embargo which strangled a commerce that other- wise would only be open to assault. In fine, Webster exhibited thus early that moderation of statesmanship, which marked his subsequent course. In the language of his friend and eulogist 180 DANIEL WEBSTER. whom we have just cited : " It was not the least conspicuous of the strongly marked qualities of his character as a public man, that at a time when party spirit went to great lengths, he never permitted himself to be infected with its contagion. His opinions were firmly maintained and boldly expressed; but without bitterness from those who dif- fered from him. He cultivated friendly relations on both sides of the House, and gained the personal respect even of those with whom he most differed." It is a lesson not to be lost sight of by politicians, or any who would serve the country where its diverse interests are in hostile array. Mr. Webster was reelected to Con- gress in 1814, and the war being now ended, entered with zeal into the measures of reorganization of the mate- rial interests of the country. His pro- fession at home, too, was making larger demands upon his attention, while his private affairs had suffered by the de- struction of his house and property in a conflagration at Portsmouth. This, with the general progress of his for- tunes, determined him upon taking up his residence in Boston, a measure which, of course, withdrew him from his New Hampshire constituency, and his seat in Congress, while this tempo- rary absence from Washington enabled him to occupy himself in several im- portant professional cases. Foremost among: them, the first of a series mem- orable in the annals of the bar, was his final argument before the Supreme Court, at the seat of government, in defence of Dartmouth College against the interference of the State legislature. His maintenance, on that occasion, of the inviolability of corporate rights, followed by the decision of the Court, pronounced by Chief Justice Marshall, established collegiate and other pro- perty on an unassailable foundation. The fervor of his appeal, as he pro- nounced this lofty argument for the college in which he had been educated, is said to have affected the sensibilities of his audience—an audience not accus- tomed to much personal agitation. But we see nothing of this in the severe Spartan brevity of the legal points of the argument as preserved in his writ- ings, though we may well credit it on the testimony of Mr. George Ticknor who tells us, "many betrayed strong emotion, many were dissolved in tears." This final hearing of the question took place in 1818, two years after Mr. Webster had made his home in Boston. It was followed by other cases of equal professional distinction, but the great Dartmouth question, marking his entrance upon the Supreme Court of the nation, is the great land- mark of his legal career. In the revision of the constitution of Massachusetts, in 1820, Mr. Web- ster was chosen one of the delegates from Boston, and the observation made by his biographer, Mr. Eve- rett, is worthy of note, that "with the exception of a few days' ser- vice, two or three years afterward, in the Massachusetts House of Repre- sentatives, this is the only occasion on which he ever filled any political office under the State government, either of Massachusetts or New Hampshire." He DANIEL WEBSTER. 181 rose rapidly in law and politics to the highest positions. His speeches in the Convention on " Qualifications for Of- fice," in which, while maintaining the sanction of religion, he advocated the remission of special tests of religious belief, the " Basis of the Senate," sup- porting a property representation in the apportionment of electoral districts, according to their taxation, and the "Independence of the Judiciary," are included in his collected works. It was in this same year, 1820, that Mr. Webster delivered the first of those anniversary and occasional discourses, which, equally with his forensic and jDolitical exertions, gave him his great popular reputation. He had, indeed, previously delivered various addresses, but his Plymouth oration, on the first settlement of New England, gave im- portance to these efforts, and has raised a department of oratory, in his own hands and that of others of distin- guished merit, to a high and distinctive place in the literature of the country. This discourse was pronounced on the twenty-second of December, two hun- dred years after the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers. Opening, as was his wont, with a few dignified general re- flections, looking into the philosophy of common truths applicable to his subject, he proceeded to present the cause of emigration, which he found in religious fervor and love of indepen- dence ; the peculiarities of the settle- ment as distinguished from other in- stances of colonization, reviewing the colonies of Greece and Rome, and their social and military principles, and then descending, to the trading establish- n.—23 ments of modern times; after that, taking up the retrospect of the century just ended, with the progress of New England through the Revolution in political and civil history, he proceeded with some observations on the nature and constitution of government in the country. The general diffusion of wealth, with its interests and responsi- bilities, and the provision for educa- tion, he found to be the motive and safeguard of republican institutions. He closed with an invocation worthy the best days of ancient oratory. " Advance then, ye future generations ! We would hail you, as you rise in your long succession, to fill the places which we now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence where we are passing, and soon shall have passed, our own human duration. We bid you welcome to this pleasant land of the fathers. We bid you welcome to the healthful skies and the verdant fields of New England. We greet your accession to the great in- heritance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings of good government and religious liberty. We welcome you to the treasures of science and the delights of learning. We welcome you to the transcendent sweets of domestic life, to the happiness of kindred and parents and children. We welcome you to the immeasurable bles- sings of rational existence, the immor- tal hope of Christianity, and the light of everlasting truth." Other passages might be cited from this discourse, in proof of the speaker's great capacity for oratory. His descrip- tion, near the commencement, of the day of Marathon, and of the fears and 182 DANIEL WEBSTER. hopes inspired in the breast of the tra- veller, whom he carries back in imagi- nation to the pregnant moments of the decisive contest, whom he fancies trem- bling for the destiny of civilization, in his overwhelming anxiety, "as if it were still uncertain, doubting whether he may consider Socrates and Plato, De- mosthenes, Sophoclesv and Phidias, as secure, yet, to himself and the world." Still more impressive, perhaps, is his picture, with its subtle undercurrent of home application, of Rome childless in the midst of her colonies, with no son of hers succeeding when the parent state should totter and fall. We read of Rome, but our thoughts are on Eng- land and America. " It was not given to Rome," is the language of this sub- lime theme, " to see, either at her ze- nith or in her decline, a child of her own, distant, indeed, and independent of her control, yet speaking her lan- guage and inheriting her blood, spring- ing forward to a competition with her own power, and a comparison with her own great renown. She saw not a vast region of the earth peopled from her stock, full of states and political com- munities, improving upon the models of her institutions and breathing in fuller measure the spirit which she had breathed in the best periods of her ex- istence ; enjoying and extending her arts and her literature; rising rapidly from political childhood to manly strength and independence; her off- spring, yet now her equal; uncon- nected with the causes which might affect the duration of her own power and greatness; of common origin, but not linked to a common fate; giving ample pledge that her name should not be forgotten, that her language should not cease to be used among men ; that whatsoever she had done for human knowledge and human happiness should be treasured up and preserved; that the record of her existence and her achievements should not be obscured, although, in the inscrutable purposes of Providence, it might be her destiny to fall from opulence and splend u*; although the time might come when darkness should settle on all her hills; when foreign or domestic violence should overturn her altars and her temples; when ignor- ance and despotism should fill the places where laws and arts and liberty had flourished; when the feet of bar- barism should trample on the tombs of her consuls, and the walls of her Senate-house and Forum echo only to the voice of savage triumph." In passages like these, and through- out the orations of Webster, the subor- dination of language to matter will be noticed; we have ever the most impor- tant thoughts and impressive utterances in the plainest words. Mr. Webster again entered Congress in 1823, sacrificing, doubtless, large pe- cuniary returns from his profession to the service of the State. His legal ar- guments were, however, only interrupt- ed, not relinquished; he found time to debate in the Capitol, and plead in the Supreme Court, and certainly no regret is to be expressed that he lis- tened to the counsel of friends, and the more imperative call of his own inter- ests to political life. Commanding statesmanship was his forte and passion, DANIEL WEBSTER. 183 and he lived and breathed freely in the higher atmosphere of government. The first question which prominently engaged his attention in the House of Representatives was the state of Greece, then engaged in her life struggle with the Ottoman power. The topic had been brought before Congress in the messages of Monroe, and although lit- tle more was to be done than utter an eloquent expression of opinion on the floor of Congress, that little, in Mr. Webster's utterance, became a voice of prophecy. His speech on the Revolu- tion in Greece, delivered in January, 1824, was an emphatic declaration of public law and right between the op- pressor and oppressed, and its declara- tions at this moment, where not over- ridden by insuperable claims of expe- diency, are sanctioned by the practice of the great courts of Europe. Free governments, it is now getting to be understood, as the policy of the great Italian movement witnesses, are the guaranties of prosperous international intercourse. Despotism, and not free- dom, is now understood to be the dan- gerous incendiary torch, and the prin- ciples of this decision will be found in the speech of Mr. Webster. The next year gave him occasion for another public exercise of his oratory, in the ceremony of laying the corner stone of -the Bunker Hill Monument. Lafayette was present at the delivery of the address, and the accessories in every way were of the most imposing character. The orator again seized the vital elements of his subject. Half a century had elapsed since the spot had been consecrated by the blood of its defenders. Mr. Webster, after paying due honor to the military struggle, turned to the peaceful triumphs of government and arts during the period, in conclusion striking the key note of his earlier and later efforts in his plea for harmony and union. " Let our con- ceptions," said he, " be enlarged to the circle of our duties. Let us extend our ideas over the whole of the vast field in which we are called to act. Let our object be our countiy, our whole country, and nothing but' our country." Eighteen years afterward, on the completion of the monument, he was again called upon as the orator of the day. He had in the meantime risen to the high position of Secretary of State ; years and family changes had made their mark upon his life; but they had not abated, they had only im- parted a deeper tone to his eloquence. His review of the elements and pro- gress of colonial life was worthy of the master historian, and show how well he would have succeeded in this mode of composition, had he turned his atten- tion to it. He had eminently an histo- ric mind. Every day events presented themselves to him in their causes and consequences with a certain procession- al grandeur. He always looked to moral influences, and here found them written legibly in the material granite. " We wish," he said, in his first oration, " that this column, rising toward hea- ven among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce n all minds a pious feeling of dependence and gra- titude. We wish that the last object to the sight of him who leaves his na- 184 DANIEL WEBSTER. tive shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise! let it rise till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit." In the same spirit in his second discourse he says: " The powerful shaft stands motionless before us. It is a plain shaft. It bears no inscriptions, fronting to the rising sun,- from which the future antiquary shall wipe the dust. Nor does the ris- ing sun cause tones of music to issue from its summit. But at the rising of the sun and at the setting of the sun, in the blaze of noonday and beneath the milder effulgence of lunar light, it looks, it speaks, it acts to the full com- prehension of every American mind and the awakening of glowing enthu- siasm in every American heart." A eulogy on Adams and Jefferson, pronounced in Faneuil Hall in August, 1826, was the next of those popular discourses delivered by Mr. Webster, ranking with his Plymouth and Bun- ker Hill orations. The simultaneous death of these two great fathers of the state, on the preceding fourth of July, had deeply affected the mind of the country, and expectation was fully alive to the charmed words of the orator. In the course of this address occurs the description of eloquence often cited, commencing, " true eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech," and ending with the idea of Demosthenes, " in ac- tion, noble, sublime, godlike action." Here, too, occurs the famous feigned oration so familiar in the recitations of schoolboys, put into the mouth of Ad- ams—words written with the emphasis and felicity of Patrick Henry—" Sink or swim, live or die, survive 01 perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote. ... It is my living seitiment, and by the blessing of God it shall be my dying sentiment, Independence now and Independence forever." Mr. Webster had been continued, by new elections, in the House of Repre- sentatives—in some of them his vote was almost unanimous—when, in 1827, he was elected to the Senate of the United States. It was while on the journey to the Capitol to take his seat, at the close of the year, that his wife became so ill that he was compelled to leave her under medical treatment in New York. He speedily rejoined her, and in the month of January she breathed her last. Those who knew her well have recorded her virtues. She was of great amiability. Judge Story wrote of her " warm and elevat- ed affections, her constancy, purity and piety, her noble disinterestedness and excellent sense," while a feminine hand, Mrs. Lee, has recalled similar traits of character. At the time of this calam- ity her husband was forty-six. He had many honors yet to reap, but youth and early manhood, with their fresh hopes and incentives, did not cross that grave. It was not long after, in the spring of 1829, that he was called to suffer another sorrow in the sudden death of his brother Ezekiel, who fell in full court at Concord, even while he was standing erect, engaged in speak- ing—stricken down in an instant by disease of the heart. " Coming so DANIEL WEBSTER. 185 soon after another awful stroke," he wrote to a friend, * it seems to fall with double weight. He has been my reliance through life, and I have de- rived much of its happiness from his fraternal affection." His public duties were before him, and to them he turned. In the Senate, at the close of this year, 1829, com- menced that celebrated debate on Mr. Foot's resolution on the sale of the public lands, which led to the passage at arms between Robert Y. Hayne, the senator from South Carolina, and Mr. Webster, who was looked up to as the champion of New England. The ques- tion involved a matter of delicacy between the two parties of the coun- try—Jackson had then recently ousted Adams in the Presidency—in their re- lations to the West. Mr. Foot was from Connecticut, and the supporters of the Administration endeavored to set New England in an unfriendly at- titude to the emigration to the new States. Mr. Hayne, a young man of brilliant talents, rapid and effective in onset, took part in the debate, and bore with severity upon New England, and personally upon Mr. Webster. There were two speeches on each side by the rival orators. The second by Mr. Webster is usually considered his greatest parliamentary oration. There were three objects, says Mr. Everett, to accomplish in this answer. Person- alities were to be repelled, the New England States vindicated, and the character of the government as a poli- tical system maintained against theories of nullification. The speech was de- livered on the 26th and 27th of Janu- ary. As published in the author's works, it occupies seventy-two large, solidly printed octavo pages, yet it is said to have been listened to with un- broken interest. " The variety of in- cident," we are told, " and the rapid fluc- tuation of the passions, kept the audi- ence in continual expectation and cease- less agitation. There was no chord of the heart the orator did not strike as with a master hand. The speech was a complete drama of comic and pathetic scenes; one varied excitement—laugh- ter and tears gaining alternate vic- tory." The account is well support- ed by intelligent eye-witnesses, but the calm, unimpassioned reader must not look for all these emotions in his perusal of the printed pages. He must remember how much depend- ed upon the occasion, the studiously aroused parliamentary crisis, the rising agitation between the North and the South, and above all, the personal em- phasis of the speakers. Hayne's tal- ents were of no common order; he was ingenious, inventive, full of mat- ter, copious in language, easy and im- pressive in action. Mr. Webster, though some years his senior, was in the prime of life, with all that interest attaching to his appearance, his raven hair, dark, deeply set eyes, olive com- plexion, and general force and compact- ness which no physical weakness of his later days ever wholly deprived him of. Even his dress was carefully se- lected. He appeared in the blue coat and buff vest, the costume of the Rev- olution—an apparel often worn by him on subsequent oratorical occasions. He stood forth as a representative man, a 186 DANIEL WEBSTER. pledged combatant in the arena; and he was every way equal to the occa- sion. Stripped of what was acciden- tal, enough remains in his speech to secure admiration. Its best remem- bered passages will always be its enco- mium of Massachusetts, and its closing appeal, as the orator shrinks from " the dark recess," and shudders at " the pre- cipice of disunion." Rising grandly to imagery truly Miltonic, he exclaimed, " While the Union lasts we have high, exciting, gratifying prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that in my day, at least, that curtain may not rise! God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies* behind ! When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glori- ous Union; on States dissevered, dis- cordant, belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood. Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather be- hold the gorgeous ensign of the repub- lic, now known and honored through- out the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, or a single star obscured, bearing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as ' What is all this worth ?' nor those other words of delu- sion and folly, l Liberty first and Union afterwards ;' but everywhere, spread all over in characters of living light, blaz- ing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens that other sentiment, dear to every true American heart, Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and insepar- able." When the progress of the nullifica- tion doctrine in South Carolina brought matters to a crisis with the government, Mr. Webster was again called upon to elucidate the constitutional history of the country in answer to the arguments of Mr. Calhoun. It was at the season of President Jackson's Proclamation, a moment of intense public excite- ment. A second time the New Eng- land orator was placed in a conspicu- ous position to assert a great national principle, and how well he maintained it let the voice of Madison, the father of the Constitution, answer. In ac- cepting a copy of the speech, the ven- erable sage wrote from Montpellier, " Your late very powerful speech crushed ' nullification' and must has- ten an abandonment of 'secession.'" This support of the cause of the Presi- dent placed the orator high in the re- gards of the administration, and we have seen it intimated that overtures of a seat in the Cabinet were made him. There was good reason for this cordiality of feeling toward one who supplied the argument by his previous speeches for the noted Proclamation; but the course of Congressional life soon brought the parties at variance. The President's action towards the Bank of the United States called forth various speeches from Mr. Webster, who stood opposed to what he consi dered an assumption of power, by that high officer, not conferred by the DANIEL WEBSTER 187 Constitution. The orator's arguments on this head were fully presented in his reply in the Senate to the Presiden- tial * protest,' objecting to the censure which had been passed, and fully set- ting forth the pretensions of the Gov- ernment. As an incidental ornament to his discourse, Mr. Webster in this speech introduced that allusion to Eng- land, the extent of her power and au- thority, which has become in all lati- tudes " familiar as a household word." He is urging the necessity of sustain- ing a principle, and appeals to the course of our Revolutionary fathers. " On this question of principle," said he, " while actual suffering was yet afar off, they raised their flag against a power to which, for purposes of foreign conquest and subjugation, Rome, in the height of her glory, is not to be com- pared ; a power which has dotted over the surface of the whole globe with her possessions and military posts, whose morning drum-beat, following the sun and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth with one conti- nuous and unbroken .strain of the mar- tial airs of Englaid." The next event which calls for notice in this account of Mr. Webster's career, is his visit to England in the spring of 1839. He was not long absent, but had the best Opportunities of observa- tion in the welcome he received in the highest quarters. His journey was ex- tended to Scotland and France. He was always fond of agriculture, and the model farming of Great Britain had much of his attention. He spoke on this subject at the celebration at Oxford. On his return he became deeply en gaged in the political campaign which resulted in the election of General liar rison to the Presidency as the successor of Van Buren, and in return for his services was appointed Secretary of State in the new administration. He found, in the discharge of the duties of this office, many important questions waiting for adjustment, and it was his good fortune to conduct the nation with honor through the vexed bounda- ry questions with England, which, at one time, seemed seriously to threaten hostilities. There were other matters of weight with foreign nations which he was called upon to negotiate, which are amply illustrated in his published diplomatic correspondence. Mr. Web- ster continued in office about two years under President Tyler, deferring party considerations to the public welfare in his negotiations. When these were happily adjusted he resigned. An in- terval of leisure from affairs of state was divided between his engagements in the services of his whig party and the demands of his profession. In 1845 he is again in the Senate, and had occasion to oppose the Mexican war, which he disliked in its inception. though he patriotically voted supplies to the army. A journey to South Ca- rolina two years later, proved the hold he had upon the popular sympathy and intelligence. It was looked upon as a step to the Presidency. He had long served his party, and was entitled to its rewards. Expediency, however, fatal to so many servants of the public, came in the way, and General Taylor, the popular hero of the^war, was pie- 188 DANIEL WEBSTER. ferred before him. On the early suc- cession of Vice-President Fillmore to the office, Mr. Webster again became Secretary of State in 1850, and held the position to his death. A new Pre- sidential election afforded his party one more opportunity of rewarding him by a nomination, but it was given to General Scott, and the old political hero, with a sigh at the ingratitude of party, continued to discharge the du- ties of his office to the last. The re- lease was not long in coming. It came to him in the autumn of 1852, at his retirement at Marshfield, where some of the happiest hours of his later life had been spent in the enjoyment of the pursuits of agriculture, the refresh- ments of rural life, and the intimacy of his family and chosen friends. He died on the morning of Sunday, the 24th October, 1852. Of the impression made upon the whole community by that event, it will be difficult to convey an adequate idea to another generation. During the later years of his life, Mr. Webster was much before the public. His voice had been heard in our large cities, and in many of the rural parts of the land, counselling in politics and national affairs; there was scarcely a liberal interest in which he had not taken part, in local and historical gatherings, agricultural meetings, open- ings of railroads, anniversaries of his- torical societies. Spite of the subtle inroads of disease, age sat lightly upon him, and the wear and tear of three score years and upwards had not done their frequent disheartening work, in impairing the energy of his mind. Its springs were as yet unbroken ; assured position, and the ease of doing readily what he had done so often, perhaps gave greater pliancy to his movements. All that he said was uttered with point and energy, and his powers were with him to the end. He had lived in the company of great thoughts and great ideas, and their solace was not denied him, when the spirit, on the eve of its parting flight, most needed refreshment. The first voice from his dying chamber to the public was communicated, in terms singularly worthy of the occa- sion, by a friend, Professor Felton, of Harvard. " Solemn thoughts," was the language of this startling bulletin, which appeared in the "Boston Cou- rier," of October 20, only four days before the final event, " exclude from his mind the inferior topics of the fleet- ing hour; and the great and awful themes of the future now seemingly opening before him—themes to which his mind has always and instinctively turned its profoundest meditations, now fill the hours won from the weary lassitude of sickness, or from the public duties, which sickness and retirement cannot make him forget or neglect. The eloquent speculations of Cicero on the immortality of the soul, and the admirable arguments against the Epi- curean philosophy, put into the mouth of one of the colloquists in the book of Nature of the Gods, share his thoughts with the sure testimony of the Word of God." Many anecdotes are recorded of those last hours. It is fondly remem- bered, at Marshfield, how he caused his favorite cattle to be driven by his win- dow when too feeble to leave his room DANIEL WEBSTER. 189 —and among the traditions of that dying chamber, are treasured his affec- tion for his friend, Peter Harvey, and others with him, and the gentle conso- lation of some stanzas, which he had recited to him from that mournful requiem, the sad cadence of human life, the undying Elegy of the poet Gray. Conscious to the very end, he calmly watched the process of dissolution, and the last syllables he listened to were the sublime words of the Psalmist, " Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." His last words were, " I still live." By his own directions, his remains were en- tombed by the side of his first wife, and the children of his early days, in the old family burying ground on his estate, at Marshfield. His grave bears his name, and the text selected by him- self, "Lord, 1 believe, help thou my unbelief." We should far transcend the limited space at our command, were we to attempt to notice the many tributes to the memory of Daniel Webster. The press, the pulpit, the bar, colleges, senates, cities, had the^ir commemora- tions, and poured forth their eulogies. With the exception of Washington and Franklin, more, perhaps, of a per- sonal character has been written about Webster, than of any of our public men. His life had been passed in the eye of the people, and a certain pub- licity naturally followed all that he said or did. In his strength and in his weakness, in all the minutiae of his daily life, h? was well known. All men who live much before the public, are necessarily something of actors; we all act our parts; he was constantly presenting his best. There was a cer- tain greatness, as we have remarked, natural to the man, spite of his fail- ings. His ordinary conversation had an air of grandeur. His look was full of dignity. His plain speech in his orations, in which simple strong Saxon greatly abounds, was an index of his matter and prevailing moods. He sought no effects which did not spring from the truthfulness of his subject. Rhetoric was his forte, but he used it sparingly in illustration of the sober groundwork of reason. In the happy phrase t>f his friend, Mr. Hillard, his eloquence was "the lightning of pas- sion running along the iron links of argument." The full value and signifi- cance of his political career, wi'h that of his great brethren in the Senate, remains yet to be adjusted in history, but his friends may fearlessly leave the apportionment of fame to posterity. But whatever the rank of Webster may hereafter be with the historian, the biographer will never lack material for a story of elevating interest in the narrative of his life, from the cradle to the grave. n.—24 THOMAS HART BENTON. Of the class of working politicians of tl e country, the many men em- ployed in the organization of party and the practical business of legisla- tion, few have so risen above the rank of their fellows as the late Senator Benton. It is the fortune of these per- sons to occupy a large share of the public attention without being greatly distinguished; they are much oftener seen and heard than the limited set of people above them, the originators of their conceptions, the Clays, Cal- houns, Websters, if the country is happy enough to possess such: to these fame is given, but the others must be contented with gratitude. Mr. Benton was through a long career a highly useful politician and in many things a representative; but it was only in the later portion of his career that the interest began to attach to him which is centered upon a great statesman. The illustrious triumvirate whose names we have mentioned may have thrown his merits into the shade ; but we suspect that his worth grew with time, and that no man was more indebted to experience. " A progres- sive improvement in his oratory," says a writer in the opening number of the " Democratic Review," in 1837, " has been very evident within the last few 190 years, his taste being punned from some bad habits of style, by which it was formerly disfigured. He may be said literally, according to the well known maxim of Cicero, to have made himself an orator, having had to strug- gle against the apparently natural dis- advantage of an incorrect and false taste. We have heard the remark made by one of his friends, that his best speech will not be delivered for ten years yet to come." The estimate was well taken, and the prediction, we believe, was fulfilled to the letter, as his speeches grew in force and interest to the last. Thomas Hart Benton was born in the State of North Carolina, near Hills- borough, in Orange County, March 14, 1782. His ancestors are spoken of with respect for their services in the Revolution when that portion of the country became the theatre of war; and the family of his mother, who bore the name of Hart, in particular has the distinction of taking part in the first venturous settlement of the region to the westward, with which the subject of our notice was to become so promi- nently identified. His father died when he was eight years old, but how far his early development was affected by the event we are not informed. a^ ■a/suUpointing by (Jwppr'l m ffcjivss&ssiu, of 'tfapufi/K-'hrrs Jt;!msnu.'Fi\ & C.c; Ribhfiha;:. N:r.v"YE;i l< V THOMAS HART BENTON. 19J The article in Appleton's Cyclopaedia, which, though brief, is the fullest ac- count we have met with of the life of Benton, speaks of his education as im- perfect, while we are told that he was for some time at a grammar school, and afterwards at the University at Chapel Hill. He was not, however, a gradu- ate of the institution, in consequence of the removal of his mother to Ten- nessee, to settle on a tract of land be- longing to his father's estate. In this new home he studied law, and rose rapidly in the profession. He was elected to the legislature, where he served only a single term, during which, continues our authority, " he procured the passage of a law reform- ing the judicial system, and of another giving to slaves the benefit of a jury trial, the same as white men." At this time, too, he became intimate with Andrew Jackson, who had been raised to the bench of the Supreme Court of the State, and was Major Ge- neral of the State militia. Benton, at- tracted by the bold, frank, engaging nature of the man, and further secured in his allegiance by various acts of sym- pathy and kindness on the part of one who might well stand, in his superior position, in the rank of patron to the youthful new-comer to the State, had been appointed one of his aids, and rendered important service to him in getting the Tennessee volunteers into the field at the outset of the great chieftain's militaiy history. When this force was first organized, Benton was with it, holding the rank of colo- nel, a designation by which he was subsequently known through the whole course of his public career. They were destined to be devoted friends in many a future arduous political struggle as they had started in life in close inti- macy ; but this friendship was first to suffer an extraordinary interruption. The " feud with the Bentons " supplies the subject of one of the most striking chapters of Mr. Parton's biography of the hero of New Orleans; and to that biography the story of it properly be- longs, since Jackson was both the ag gressor and the chief sufferer. It is sufficient here to allude to it as a brutal rencontre, growing out of a ridiculous duel, in which, while Benton was away negotiating for the payment of the Tennessee troops at Washington, to relieve his friend from pecuniary res- ponsibility, Jackson had borne the part of second to the antagonist of his bro- ther, Jesse Benton. The case appears to have been exaggerated and misrep resented to Colonel Benton, who re- turned to Nashville denouncing his former friend in the bitterest terms. Jackson was hurt and annoyed, and determined to inflict personal chastise- ment upon Colonel Benton, and was about attempting to put his resolve in execution in the doorway of a hotel in Nashville, when his movements were arrested by a shot from Jesse Benton, which took effect in his shoulder and prostrated him on the instant. Colo- nel Benton, who had a temperament, when roused, hardly inferior to that of " Old Hickory," blustered and de- nounced, and broke the sword of his antagonist in the public square. The bitterest hate, not unnaturally, sprung up between the friends- of Jack- L92 THOMAS* JI ART BENTON. son, who lay weltering in his blood, and the infuriate young lawyer. In a letter written by the latter, cited by Mr. Parton, he says, " I am literally in hell here ; the meanest wretches under. heaven to contend with—liars, affidavit makers and shameless cowards. . . . The seal ping-knife of Tecumsey is mercy compared with the affidavits of these villains. I am in the middle of hell, and see no alleviation but to kill or be killed; for I will not crouch to Jackson, and the fact that I and my brother defeated him and his tribe, and broke his small sword in the public square, will forever rankle in his bosom and make him thirst after vengeance." The two friends, thus summarily con- verted, by their reckless conduct, into the deadliest foes, did not meet again for ten years, when they found them- selves together, fellow members on the floor of the United States Senate. Meanwhile Colonel Benton, in this September, 1813, when the unhappy scenes we have just alluded to occurred, returned to his residence in Franklin, Tennessee, to receive shortly after the appointment of lieutenant colonel in the regular army. The war, however, was now approaching its end, and he had no opportunity of active service. He consequently, when peace was de- clared, resigned his commission, and removing to Missouri, established him- self in this seat of his future political authority at §t. Louis. He engaged in the practice of the law, and an apti- tude for political life introduced him to the editorship of a newspaper, the " Missouri Inquirer." The course of politics in this new occupation proved scarcely smoother to him than thp rough life that he had abandoned in Tennessee. He engaged, we are told, in frequent disputes, accompanied by various duels, in one of which he killed his opponent, Mr. Lucas, "an event he deeply deplored, and all the private. papers relating to which he destroyed.11 It was the period of the memorable struggle for the admission of Missouri into the Union, in the discussion of which he bore a part, and as a defender of the Territory, supported its slavery constitution. On the conclusion of the protracted controversy he took his seat in the United States Senate as one of the first representatives of the new State. Thenceforth for thirty years he con- tinued to hold that responsible posi- tion, strengthening himself yearly by his studies and growing intimacy with Congressional life and friendships with many of the most eminent men of the country, till he rose to be one of the most active and influential members of that body. The record of the period which he published in the last year of his life, entitled " Thirty Years' View ; or, a History of the Working of the American Government for Thirty Years, from 1820 to 1850," exhibits his course on every leading political question which arose during that important era. It contains his speeches—those which he thought best worth preserving—and various honorable tributes to the public men with whom he was associated, and glowing personal notices of his friends. Nothing is more pleasing in these remi- niscences than his expressions of grati- tude to those by whom he patterned THOMAS HART BENTON. 193 himself, from whom he took counsel and received encouragement at the be- ginning of his career. In his noble eulogy of Nathaniel Macon, of North Carolina, he says, " I have a pleasure in recalling the recollections of this wise, just and good man, and in writing them down, not without profit, I hope, to rising generations. Mr. Macon was the real Cincinnatus of America, the pride and ornament of my native State, my hereditary friend through four gen- erations, my mentor in the first seven years of my senatorial, and the last seven of his senatorial life ; and a feel- ing of gratitude and of filial affection mingles itself with this discharge of historical duty to his memory." Again, ^Tiring of the retirement of Rufus King, he says, " I felt it to be a privi- lege to serve in the Senate with three such senators as Mr. King, Mr. Macon, and John Taylor of Carolina, and was anxious to improve such an opportunity into the means of benefit to myself. With Mr. King it required a little sys- tem of advances on my part, which I had time to make, and which the urba- nity of his manners rendered easy. He became kind to me; readily supplied me with information from his own vast stores, allowed me to consult him, and assisted me in the business of the State, of whose admission he had been the great opponent, whenever I could sat- isfy him that I was right." More than all this, Mentor counselled and Tele- machus took in good part a suggestion which might have ruffled a less really sensible recipient. He advised him of a defect growing out of his tempera- ment when heated by opposition, of his taking " under these circumstances an authoritative manner, and a look and tone of defiance, which sat ill upon the older members," advising him " to mo- derate his manner." True ability can always be estimated by its capacity of receiving instruction, come from what quarter it may, and Benton's teachable disposition enabled him gradually to become one of the smoothest, most ele- gant, equable speakers in the Senate. His course at first, as indeed it was the great cause of his life ever after- wards, was identified with the inter- ests of the West. The reduction of the price of lands to emigrants, the preemption rights of actual settlers, the maintenance of the vast territorial limits, the improvement of means of communication to the Pacific were favorite objects for which he toiled and labored ; and, partaking as they do of living practical interests will be remem- bered in his favor when many of the noisy debates of his senatorial career, upon which the public hung eagerly at the time, shall be forgotten. He tells us that the first seed of that passion for opening channels of trade across the continent, and thence to the great Eastern marts of the old world, to which so much of the time of his later years was devoted, was sown in his mind by " the philosophic hand of Mr. Jefferson," who, even before Lewis and Clark had traversed the western terri- tory at his instigation, had directed Ledyard to this promising scene of ex- ploration. In 1824 Benton brought in a bill for opening a road into New Mex- ico, partly traced through foreign terri- torv, to facilitate the rising commerce 194 THOMAS HART BENTON. with that region. His lucid explana- tions of its value, assisted by prece- dents of the authoritative administra- tion of Jefferson, whom he consulted on the subject at Monticello, secured its passage, and the road, he wrote thirty years afterward, when the politi- cal and commercial character of the country in question had undergone such important changes, " has remained a thoroughfare of commerce between Missouri and New Mexico, and all the western internal provinces ever since." From that day to the time of his death he was active in all that related to new channels of western communication; his exertions receiving a fresh impulse in the successive explorations and dis- coveries, which he greatly promoted, of his son-in-law, Colonel Fremont. His advocacy of a central line of rail- way communication extending directly westward from Missouri by the passes surveyed by Fremont, was plied not only by his writings, but by various public oratorical statements in leading Atlantic cities. The most important political phases of what we may call the middle career of Colonel Benton's senato- rial life, that portion which embraces the Presidencies of Jackson and Van Buren, are presented in connection with questions of banking and the cur- rency. His support of Jackson in his warfare against the United States Bank was constant and unwearied, and raised him to the rank of a debater of the first class. The old " feud " which had separated the two men, violent as it was, with its horrid accessories, was felt to be accidental, and they grew to- p-ether in a mutual respect and cordial- ity of feeling, which lasted to the dying moments of the General at the Hermitage, and has been fondly perpe- tuated in the writings of the survivor. One signal service, dear to the heart of the old chieftain, probably nobody but Benton would have had the zeal and perseverance to carry out. We allude to the famous "Expunging Resolution" passed in 1837, removing from the record of the Senate its resolution of 1834, condemnatory of the President's course on the removal of the deposits. For three years he battled this question in the Senate; announcing his inten- tion, at the very outset, immediately on the censure being taken, to remove the hated sentence from the journal; reviving his declaration from time to time; taking every opportunity of as- sailing the obnoxious resolve. Like old Cato, of Rome, who ended every speech, with the expression, " I am also of opinion that Carthage should be blotted out," Benton never forgot his Expunging Resolution. He followed it up with every resource of historical, parliamentary and constitutional argu- ment, and when argument was at an end, his strong words of condemnation and remonstrance were never wanting. " Let this resolution for the condemna- tion of General Jackson," said he in 1835, the year after its passage, "be ex- punged from the journal of the Senate. Let it be effaced, erased, blotted out, obliterated from the face of that page on which it never should have been written. Would to God it could be expunged from the page of all history, and from the memory of all mankind !" THOMAS HART BENTON. 195 At length his hour of triumph came. The democratic vote in the Senate had been increased by the new elections, and in the last session of Jackson's ad- ministration was sufficiently strength- ened to carry the measure. The reso- lution of censure had been originally adopted by a vote of twenty-six to twenty; it was cancelled by a vote of twenty-four to nineteen. With this majority at command, Benton proudly approached the consummation of the act upon which he had set all his pow- ers of mind and will. Rising from tech- nical Congressional argument to a vin- dication of the great measures of Jackson's administration, he closed his third great speech on the subject with the memorable sentence which has passed into the political vocabu- lary—" And now, sir, I finish the task which, three years ago, I imposed on myself. Solitary and alone, and amidst the jeers and taunts of my opponents, I put this ball in motion. The people have taken it up, and rolled it forward, .and I am no longer anything but a unit in the vast mass which now pro- pels it." In his " Thirty Years' View," Ben- ton has dwelt upon the closing act which was arranged for the sixteenth of January. His forces were well drilled for the final vote, and that there might be no disappointment fn their meeting it, he caused unusual prepara- tions to. be made for holding the mem- bers together during the protracted night sitting, for it was intended that there should be no adjournment after the resolution was called until it was passed, and it was known that it would not pass without comment from tne great orators who had always defended the original act. " Knowing," he writes, " the difficulty of keeping men steady to their work, and in good hu- mor, when tired and hungry, the mover of the proceeding took care to provide, as far as possible, against such a state of things; and gave orders that night to have an ample supply of cold hams, turkeys, rounds of beef, pickles, wines and cups of hot coffee, ready in a cer- tain committee-room near the Senate Chamber by four o'clock in the after- noon." The debate was opened and wore on through the day with long speeches from the whigs, who were bent on delay, with the hope that in some way the measure would miscarry. Night came on, the supper room was in operation with its powerful rein- forcement of the animal spirits of the combatants, who resorted to it in small detachments, as they could be spared. In the words of the arch conspirator himself, " it became evident to the great opposition leaders that the inevit- able hour had come: that the damna- ble deed was to be done that night, and that the dignity of silence was no longer to them a tenable position." Thus driven to the wall, Calhoun ad- vanced and began by denouncing the proposed measure as a violation of the Constitution, which required the jour- nals to be " kept," and not to be de- stroyed. If one sentence, why not the whole ? He then combated the act as an expression of the will of the people, referring it to " a combination of pat- ronage and power." Finally, admitting the toils by which he was surrounded, 196 THOMAS HART BENTON. he expressed his abhorrence of the dic- tation, which he compared with the coercion of the Roman Senate in the days of imperial despotism. Henry Clay, the mover of the original reso- lution, also spoke, ending with an eloquent lament over the violated rights of the Senate. "The deed," said he, " is to be done—that foul deed which, like the blood-stained hands of the guilty Macbeth, all ocean's waters will never wash out." Webster followed, as the vote was about being taken, more moderate in language, but with a lofty feeling of pride, if not of contempt, as he con- templated w'hat he thought an idle desecration. " We collect ourselves to look on," he said, " in silence, while a scene is exhibited which, if we did not regard it as a ruthless violation of a sacred instrument, would appear to us to be little elevated above the charac- ter of a contemptible farce." The vote was then taken, the result announced, and the secretary ordered to execute its intent. He accordingly introduced the original manuscript, and, agreeably to instructions which had been arranged beforehand, proceeded to surround the sentence with a square of black lines, and to write across its face the words, " Expunged by order of the Senate." In the conclusion of the narrative, Ben- ton takes some credit to himself for his firmness in checking " a storm of hisses, groans and vociferations," which arose over his head in the gallery. We have traced this proceeding with some particularity, as well because it was one which, perhaps more than any other, up to that time, made Ben- ton widely known to the public, as for its illustration of the inveterate per- sistency of the man. Capable of en- durance, in the enjoyment of robust health, and a stout physical frame, he possessed a strength of will which no labor could weary or force of opposi- tion overcome. He was a diligent stu- dent, well read in the subjects which he discussed, and thoroughly trained as an orator in their disposition and use. His friendship for Jackson was a passion. Probably the Senate will never again witness such an instance of personal devotion as Benton exhi- bited in the patient tenacity and con- quering fidelity of his Expunging Re- solution. The passage of the bill for equaliz- ing the value of gold and silver, and legalizing the tender of foreign coin of both metals, which brought about a revival of the gold currency, was one of the measures connected with the bank agitation which was urged by Colonel Benton with his customary research and ability and a full share of his usual pertinacity. His persistence in the cry for gold is still remembered in the popular designation given to him of " Old Bullion." In the crisis which followed the bank embarrass- ments in 1837, he shared, with Jackson and Van Buren, the popular compli- ments of the copper political cent coun ters or tokens bearing such inscriptions as "I take the responsibility," "The Constitution as I understand it," " Ben tonian currency," "Mint drop." The Colonel himself pleasantly alludes to some of these demonstrations in his " Thirty Years' View, where he speaks THOMAS HART BENTON. 197 of the matter. " Gold," he says, as a first fruit of the bill, " began to flow into the country through all the chan- nels of commerce: old chests gave up their hoards: the mint was busy, and in a few months, and as if by magic, a currency banished from the country for thirty years overspread the land and gave joy and confidence to all the pur- suits of industry." This was one side of the picture: on the other was an outcry, which he attributes to the Bank influence, of officious persons alarming the ignorant with gilt counters and counterfeits, while the coin itself " was burlesqued in mock imitations of brass or copper, with grotesque figures and ludicrous inscriptions—the ' whole hog,' and the ' better currency,' being the favorite devices. Many newspa- pers expended their wit in its State depreciation. The most exalted of the paper money party would recoil a step when it was offered to them, and beg for paper. The name of ' gold hum- bug' was fastened upon the person supposed to have been chiefly instru- mental in bringing the derided coin into existence; and he, not to be abashed, made its eulogy a standing theme—vaunting its excellence, boast- ing its coming abundance, to spread over the land, flow up the Mississippi, thence. through the interstices of the long silken purse, and to be locked up safely in the farmer's trusty oaken chest." In the last sentence the orator repeats some of those glowing expres- sions which were bandied about at the time by political editors with the fre- quency of watchwords. He was not at all the man to be disheartened by n.-—25 caricature; on the contrary, he was likely to accept it as an indication of popularity ; for no one thinks it worth while to travesty a thing in which the public takes no interest. It would be of little value here to attempt to trace minutely the future political course of Colonel Benton, which must be studied by those who would understand the matter, in his numerous speeches and those of his contemporaries in the political history of his times. It may be enough gene- rally to state that he defended the financial measures of Mr. Van Buren's administration in his advocacy of the Sub-Treasury; that he bore a distin- guished part in the discussion of the Oregon boundary question, taking the moderate ground which was finally adopted; that he was much looked to by President Polk in the conduct of the Mexican war, when it was pro- posed to confer upon him the rank of lieutenant general, that he might have control of the entire military move- ment; and that in the subsequent slavery agitation he stood opposed to the southern views of Mr. Calhoun, which were brought into the politics of his own State of Missouri. A con- tested election in 1850, in which he himself took the field with his accus- tomed ardor, delivering a series of speeches which attracted great atten- tion by their force and spirit, ended in his defeat and withdrawal from the Senate. After two years' absence he was returned to Congress in 1852, when he again brought himself into the heat of the political conflict by his course on the Kansas-Nebraska bill, to ART BENTON. 193 THOMAS H. which, as a maintainer of the Missouri Compromise, he was resolutely opposed. It was his fate in Missouri to be over- thrown by coalitions. The whigs, uniting with his enemies, had thrown him out of the Senate; the American party now deprived him of reelection in the House. In 1856 he was once more a candidate for office as governor of Missouri, and again his presence was felt throughout the State and country in his speeches in the canvass; but party divisions, as before, told against him, and he was a third time defeated. In the Presidential election of the same year he exhibited his personal independence in his adherence to the fortunes of Mr. Buchanan in pre- ference to those of his son-in-law, Fremont. This rough spirit of inde- pendence which he exhibited, gained him the regard of the community outside the circle of his own par- tisans, and it was felt that few more formidable political antagonists existed than "Old Bullion." He knew inti- mately all the arts and devices of poli- tics, and the strength and weakness of political candidates; his memory was extraordinary; his zeal, when it was enlisted, was unbounded, and his com- mand of language had acquired new powers with his years. Happily for the permanency of his reputation he devoted his last years to the work of political history and bio- graphy. We have already alluded to his " Thirty Years' View " of his sena- torial life—a book admirably planned to keep in memory his long series of oratorical labors. There is certainly no modesty in the book which leads the author to curtail the account of his own exploits; while, on the other hand, few statesmen have ever so generously celebrated the merits of their contemporaries in the same walk. There is a general ease and amenity in its pages, the apparent indication of an unruffled mind. As another example of the author's well known resolution and perseverance, it may be mentioned that while the second volume of this extensive work was in preparation, a fire occurred in his house, and his manuscripts and books perished in the flames, when his first act was a letter to his publishers, in which he stated the extent of his loss; that his labor would be doubled ; but that he would " go to work immediately and work incessantly." Not content with this laborious un- dertaking, he immediately entered upon another, in his preparation of an "Abridgment of the Debates of Con- gress from 1789 to 1856," a most im- portant aid to the study of American political history, extending to fifteen royal octavo volumes. He had evi- dently determined to die in harness. His last moments were given to the dictation of the concluding portions of this "Abridgment," when he was unable to raise his voice above a whis- per. Disease had been for some time making its advances upon his vigorous constitution, but leaving his mental faculties unimpaired. He knew the na- ture of the struggle, and manfully met the issue. He died at Washington, April 10, 1858. BE HIM mmm §Hp j^B ffltf&y' $KM m 1* ^ Jfe i-gpSSS^N" %ffiS3&8t&SBffite J. J fA*. n cr>—c liar. I JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. Jajvies Fektmore Cooper was born at Burlington, New Jersey, September 15, 1789, the descendant, on the father's side, of an English family which had been for more than a hundred years settled at that place. His mother, the daughter of Richard Fenimore, of New Jersey, was of Swedish descent. His father, a man of mark in his generation, Judge William Cooper, had become possessed, a few years before his son's birth, of a large tract of land in the neighborhood of Otsego Lake, in the State of New York, and thither, hav- ing established the first settlement at the spot, he carried the child when he was but a few weeks old. The boy was thus brought up from riis earliest days amidst the scenery and surround- .ed by the associations of frontier life. The place was well calculated to edu- cate the disposition of a youth natur- ally inclined to a bold, manly career. " His childish recollections," says his accomplished daughter, Susan Feni- more Cooper, in a delightful series of sketches of the author and his works recently published, " were all closely connected with the forests and hills, the fresh clearings, new fields and homes on the banks of the Otsego. It was here his boy's strength was first tried in those sports to which grey- headed men, amid the cares of later life, delight to look back. From the first bow and arrow, kite and ball, to later feats in fishing, riding, shooting, skating, all were connected with his hio-hland home. It was on the waters of the Otsego that he first learned to handle an oar, to trim a sail. Healthy and active, he delighted in every exer- cise of the kind—a brave, blithe-heart- ed, impetuous, most generous and up- right boy, as he is remembered by those who knew him in childhood.'1 This was the out of door life, and doubtless .the real education of the youth, far more potential in laying the foundations of the future man than anything there to be taught within- doors, if we except the influence of character and domestic life in his noble home. The village schoolmaster, how- ever, plays his part in the boy's history. We hear of him, good master Oliver Cory—dignifying the scene of his labors with the title of an Academy, and training his pupils in religion as well as in more earthly learning. The school had its exhibitions, when the orations of the great men, out of Shakspeare, were declaimed by boys arrayed in " the local militia uniforms, blue coats faced with red," a costume, however, not more ridiculous than* that 199 200 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. of Garrick himself in these persona- tions, who dressed the parts in the wig and fashion of the time. On one of these occasions young Cooper, a boy of eight, recited the Beggar's Petition " in the character of an old man, wrapped in a faded cloak and bending over his staff." Nor was the youth entirely without a knack of literature. He was fond of the reading of romances, " Don Be- lionis of Greece " among the number, which made so great an impression on him that it led to the project of a work of the kind, which he was to compose in concert with a boyish comrade, the son of the village editor. The two friends undertook to get the work up in the printing office, dictating to one another as it proceeded. Of course it did not go very far. A more success- ful effort was a doggrel ballad on the " Burning of Buffalo," which he penned for a strolling singer, who. carried it about the country with considerable benefit to his humble fortune. From Master Cory the youth was transferred to the maturer scholarship of the Rev. Mr. Ellison, an English clergyman of repute at Albany, who received a few pupils in his family, and there he was prepared for college. He entered Yale at the age of thirteen, shortly after the death of his instructor. He was in the same class with the poet Hillhouse, and shared the supervision of the model President Dwight. Three years passed at such a seat of learning must have stamped many an image of literature upon the mind of an ingenu- ous youth, though it was to be some time before the tree bore much of this species of fruit. His tastes and tempei were for active life, for following out on a larger * 'Sphere the inclinations which he had acquired in the free woodland life on the Otsego. The navy was his choice, and, as a prepara- tory discipline, he left college for a brief apprenticeship to the science as a sailor before the mast. A voyage to England about the year 1805, and thence to the Mediterranean, introduced him not only to the hardships of the sea, but to that political world of Eu- rope and those maritime relations with the mother country, which were to en- gage so much of his attention in after life. He regularly entered the navy as a midshipman, and was for several years engaged in its active duties, at one time in the sloop of war Wasp, and at another in the construction of some vessels on Lake Ontario. He resigned his commission upon his mar- riage, in 1811, with Miss Susan De Lancey, a young lady of one of the leading families in the old settled county of Westchester, in the State of New York. He then established him self with his bride in a cottage in the neighborhood of Mamaroneck, in that region, with a prospect before him of rural life and employments. His first entrance upon his literary career was somewhat accidental. It was his habit, in the cultivated society of his home, to read aloud to his family the new books for which America was then almost exclusively indebted to the London publishers. The works of Sir Walter Scott, as they arrived, made a great impression, Avhich we can hardly appreciate amidst the multifa- JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 201 rious objects and claims upon our attention of the present day. In the cottage at Angevine, as Mr. Cooper's residence was called, in compliment to the old Huguenot occupants of the place, we may be sure the Waverley series was dropped into an appreciative circle. There was leisure for admira- tion and a disposition to enjoy; with that impulse in the chief reader, derived from a keen perception of life, and a youth itself not unskilled in personal adventure and deeds of daring. The influence of Scott on such a mind must have been great; but it was not to the author of Waverley that the first .im- pulse of Cooper toward a literary life was directly due. Some less successful writer set him on the track. He was once reading a novel of the old domes- tic school of English life, when he threw the book down in disgust with the exclamation that he could write a better than that himself. He was challenged to the performance of the work. He sat down to make the effort, and the first chapters of his novel of " Precaution " were the result. He was encouraged to continue it by his friends; it was soon concluded, and thus, at the age of thirty-one, in 1820, Mr. Cooper became an author. A more unlikely man at that time to devote himself to the labors of the pen was not to be found. " Hitherto," says his daughter, " no man could have shown himself farther from any inclina- tion for authorcraft. He was not one of those people who like the feeling of foolscap, the sight of pen and ink; who indulge secret partialities for note- books, diaries and extracts. His port- folio was wholly empty—scarcely, in- deed, provided with letter paper for an occasional correspondent." So much the better, perhaps, for the vividness of his perceptions and the freshness of his efforts when he at once struck into his new path. He did not, however, hit it at once, though he was not long in finding the true bent of his genius. " Precaution " was an imitative book— the scene was laid in England and the incidents and manners were the worn materials of English fiction. The inci- dents were those of the hall and the par- sonage; the whole was pronounced respectable but not forcible, and was generally attributed to a lady's pen. It had a fair reception, and the honor of an early English reprint. It is still printed in collections of the author's works, but would probably have long since passed into oblivion with the many books of its kind, had it not been succeeded by the vigorous series of volumes herald- ed by the " Spy." This novel, the appearance of which marks an era in our American litera- ture was separated by only a year from its predecessor, "Precaution;" yet what a different work! How unlike its eager activity and keen woodland atmosphere in the New World, to the faded drawing-room scenes of the Old ! There was no mistaking this for the work of a female hand. It was a genius kindred to that of Scott, but unlike, as was fitting, in its adaptation to new scenes and situations. The author was not the man to rest content with the reputation of reproducing the materials of English- novel-writing, however suc- cessful he might be thought in the 202 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. work. He turned to his own soil, to the patriotic legends of his country, to the impulses which he had received by her lakes and mountains, and from the lips of her aged patriots. The leading character of the book, Harvey Birch, was suggested by a narrative which the author heard from Chief Justice Jay, of the Revolution, sitting one summer afternoon on his broad piazza at Bed- ford, where Mr. Cooper and his family were privileged visitors. "The dis- course," the novelist himself tells us, " turned upon the effects which great political excitement produces on charac- ter, and the purifying consequences of a love of country, when that sentiment is powerfully and generally awakened in a people." Out of this sentiment, and the slight thread of narrative with which it was accompanied, grew the "Spy," the prompt, vigorous creation of a man of genius, seeing with his own eyes and recording his own unborrowed impressions. It is a book of action, of ingenious contrivances, of force and in- tenseness of mind, alive with hones^ natural emotions, a warm patriotism and a kindling love of nature. Its suc- cess was great and immediate, both at home and abroad. The friends of the author in New York society were taken by surprise ; but they soon learned to recognize the man they had among them in his new capacity, as book after book came forth tp confirm the disco- very of his powers." The composition of the " Spy" was something of a curiosity. " So little," says the writer, in the preface to his revised edition, " was expected from the publication of an original work of this description at the time it was w. it- ten, that the first volume was actually printed several months before the au- thor felt a sufficient inducement to write a line of the second. As that second volume was slowly printing, from a manuscript that was barely dry when it went into the compositors' hands, the publisher intimated that the work might grow to a length that would consume the profits. To set his mind at rest, the last chapter was actu- ally written, printed and paged several weeks before the chapters which pre- cede it were even thought of." To the "Spy," in 1823, succeeded the " Pioneers," in which the author drew upon the associations and inci- dents of his early home on the Otsego. The work abounds with fresh pictures of nature, manly, original characters, and foremost among them the universal- ly known Leatherstocking, that ideal sof- tened stoic of the woods, combining the best instincts of his race with a nobility of character worthy the most exalted lineage. While the events Of the story are purely fictitious, the scenery and manners are literally and truthfully de- scribed, and many of the personages rest more or less upon actual charac- ters, while all are true to the preva- lent types of the country. In his own account of the book the author admits Leatherstocking to be a pure creation, but claims for the rest in general a fidelity to actual life. " The great proprietor resident on his lands, and giving his name to it instead of receiv- ing it from his estates, as in Europe, is common over all New York. The phy- sician, with his theory rather obtained JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 203 than corrected by experiments on the human constitution; the pious, self-de- nying, laborious and ill-paid missionary, the half-educated, litigious, envious and disreputable lawyer, with his counter- poise a brother of the profession, of better origin and of better character; the shiftless, bargaining, discontented seller of his ' betterments;' the plausi- ble carpenter, and most of the others, are familiar to all who have ever dwelt in a new country." We have alluded to the impulse of the works of Sir "W alter Scott in giv- ing direction to the powers of Mr. Cooper. His next book, a pure novel of the sea, in a walk which he was to make entirely his own, singularly enough had its motive in an acci- dental conversation at the table of a friend over the last production of the author of " Waverley." The " Pirate " had just appeared, and everybody was talking of its wild, romantic scenes and sea flavors, breathing so freshly of the northern coasts .of Scotland. Lands- men were so impressed with its nauti- cal display that they doubted whether Scott, the gentleman, who had passed his life in the society of Edinburgh, and who, it was to be supposed, knew no more-of the ocean than what was visible from the shore, could be its au- thor. Cooper, with his accustomed resoluteness and independence of tone, was disposed to gratify somewhat this extraordinary admiration. His expe- riences in the navy had made him crit- ical, and without denying the general force and spirit of the picture, he pro- nounced the seamanship of the book defective. The friend with whom the conversation began, the late Mr. Charles Wilkes, a gentleman of great worth and eminent literary accomplishment, the promoter of every liberal enter- prise in New York in his day, thought the Waverley treatment quite sufficient. The ardent temper of Cooper, as mani- fested in the production of his first novel, was put to the proof, and he de- termined to write a novel which should, if possible, justify his opinions. He resolved to produce a book " which, if it had no other merit, might present truer pictures of the ocean and ships than any that are to be found in the 1 Pirate.' " The friends whom he con- sulted looked doubtfully on the under- taking. " One would declare that the sea could not be made interesting ; that it was tame, monotonous, and without any other movement than unpleasant storms, and that, for his part, the less he got of it the better. The women very generally protested that such a book would have the odor of bilge wa- ter, and that it would give them the maladie de mer. Not a single indivi- dual among all those who discussed the merits of the pi eject, within the range of the author's knowledge, either spoke or looked encouragingly." Spite of these prognostics, however, the book, like its predecessors, was a decid- ed hit. The well-chosen machinery, the introduction of an historical interest in the naval hero of the American Re- volution, Paul Jones, and above all, the genuine salt flavor of the scenes, with heroic Long Tom Coffin and his associates, and the nautical accuracy with which they were described, giving confidence to readers, even where it JOt JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. could not be fully appreciated, secured the general approbation. " There could be no doubt," says Miss Cooper, " as to its success. All that interest which the writer had believed it possible to throw round a naval narrative was fully aroused; the opinion declared some months earlier at the table of Mr. Wilkes was proved to be correct. The pictures placed before the reader were drawn with s© much spirit and poetical feeling, with so much clearness and fidelity, as to command attention and fill the public mind for the mo- ment. The success of the book in Eng- land was also decided. Ere long, indeed, the tale was translated into French and German and Italian, in spite of the many technical difficulties of the subject—a most convincing proof of the interest of the work; the flag; of the little Ariel was carried tri- umphantly into the Bay of Biscay, aye, nto the classic waters of the Mediter- ranean." The " Pilot" was published at the end of the year 1823—the au- thor thus, in the short space of three years, having given to the world three original works of fiction in distinct walks of composition: a romance of the Revolution, the peculiarly Ameri- can story of frontier settlement, and the tale of the ocean, the precursor of a long succession of nautical fictions from his own and other pens. " Lionel Lincoln," Mr. Cooper's fourth novel, appeared in 1825. In its subject matter, a tale of the leaguer of Boston, it belongs to the same class as . the " f-py," and was intended by the author as one of a series of novels of the Revo- lution, written to illustrate the history of each of the original thirteen States. It has been generally considered less successful than some of the author's other productions, the interest of the main character, an American loyalist officer, not being carried to a sufficient height; but it has scenes and charac- • ters creditable to the writer's heart and the boldness of his resolution in en- countering difficulties. An elaborate, carefully prepared presentation of the battle of Bunker Hill is one of the per- manent attractions of the book. A tour in the summer of this year, 1825, gave birth to yet another produc- tion, the " Last of the Mohicans," which ranks with the foremost of the author's works of fiction. Leatherstocking, in this work, reappears upon the stage at an earlier period of his life, however, than in the "Pioneers;" and unlike most reproductions by a novelist of a favorite character, his second entrance was as successful as his first. The deli- neations of forest life and the scenery about Lake George, or, as the author then for the first time called that beau- tiful body of water, Lake Horican, increased his hold upon his readers. The composition of the book was inter- rupted by an attack of fever, at- tended with delirium, but the author's mind remained true to his work. In the midst of his illness he roused himself to dictate a sheet of seemingly incoherent notes, which became the basis of one of the most powerful chapters. He had hardly recovered from this illness when he was engaged in the composition of the " Prairie," urged, thus his daughter tells us, to renewed JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 205 activity by the derangement of his financial affairs, in consequence of the unexpected loss in the settlement of his father's estate, and embarrassments arising from debts incurred from no extravagance of his own, but from his benevolence in becoming responsible for the obligations of others. To expe- dite his work he resorted to the use of coffee as a stimulant, the only instance in which, in his long literary career, he employed any resource of the kind. " The effect on' his nerves," we are told, " was not good, and the coffee was given up after a short time." In fact, Mr. Cooper was a man of great simpli- city of habits, not an ascetic, ^indeed, but of a healthy, vigorous temper, liv- ing much according to the plain dic- tates of nature. There are indications of this honesty in his writings, which bear no appearance of late hours or forced products of the brain. An off- hand, unsophisticated character may be read in them all, without vinous enthu- siasm or affectation of any kind. Their language is the speech of a sincere, straightforward man. Before the " Prairie" was finished, the author sailed with his family for Europe, to reside abroad for some years. He left with the plaudits of his coun- trymen ringing in his ears, and was received in Europe as an author of established reputation, who had honor- ably won a high position. He took up his residence at Paris, and there, " in the third story of the old Hotel de Ju- mieges, in the faubourg St. Germain, a building which is now occupied by the nans of the adjoining convent of St. Maur," the last chapters of the " Prairie " n.—26 were written. Its successful descrip- tions of western scenery were penned without visiting the regions where the scene was laid. Again Leatherstocking appeared, now in his last years, and again with the old effect, " dying as he had lived, a philosopher of the wilder- ness, with few of the failings, none of the vices, and all the nature and truth of his position." The new work did not lack its admirers. One of the noblest eulogies pronounced upon it is by the au- thor's friend, Mr. Bryant, the poet, whose sympathies were all with its theme. " I read it," says he, " with a certain awe, an undefined sense of sublimity such as one experiences on entering for the first time upon those immense grassy deserts from which the work takes its name. The squatter and his family— that brawny old man and his large- limbed sons, living in a sort of primi- tive and patriarchal barbarism, sluggish on ordinary occasions, but terrible when roused, like the hurricane that sweeps the grand but monotonous wil- derness in which they dwell—seem a natural growth of those ancient fields of the West. Leatherstocking, a hun- ter in the " Pioneers," a warrior in the " Last of the Mohicans," and now, in his extreme old age, a trapper on the prairie, declined in strength but unde- cayed in intellect, and looking to the near close of his life, and a grave under the long grass, as calmly as the laborer at sunset looks to his evening slumber, is no less in harmony with the silent desert in which he wanders. Equally so are the Indians, still his companions, copies of the American savage some- what idealized, but not the less a part L>06 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. of the wild nature in which they have their haunts." Mr. Cooper's second sea novel, the " Red Rover," succeeded the " Prairie." It was written in the summer of 1827, at a delightful suburban residence, oc- cupied with his family by the author at the village of St. Ouen, in the neigh- borhood of Paris, on the banks of the Seine—a choice spot, in happy contrast, with its simple rural pursuits and amusements, to the wild waste of wa- ters on which the author now sent forth his imagination in the construction of a tale of rare power and beauty. The " Red Rover" is a bold conception of character, involving sudden vicissi- tudes of action, and for breadth and effect, and interest in its personages, ranks with the happiest of the writer's creations. " It is as completely a book of the sea," says the filial pen which we have already cited, " as the l Mohicans' is a tale of the forest. The whole dra- ma is almost entirely enacted on the ocean. The curtain rises in port; but the varied scenes, so full of nautical in- terest and succeeding each other with startling rapidity, are wholly unfolded on the bosom of the deep. It is be- lieved that there is scarcely another book in English literature so essentially marine in spirit. It is'like some mate- rial picture of the sea, drawn by a mas- ter hand, where the eye looks abroad over the rolling waves, where it glances at the sea-bird fluttering amid the spray, and then rests upon the gallant ship, with swelling canvas, bending before the breeze, until the land behind us, and the soil beneath our own feet are forgotten. In the "Rover," the different views of the ocean in majestic movement are very noble, while the two vessels which carry the heart of the narrative with them, come and go with wonderful power and grace, guid- ed by the hand of one who was both pilot and poet in his nature." Before the publication of his next novel, Mr. Cooper gave to the world a didactic work of a patriotic character, intended to represent to his new Euro- pean audience the working of Ameri- can institutions' at home ; for it was a characteristic of the novelist to be always actively employed with what was around him. He was not a self- pleasing man, satisfied with the dreams of his study or the creations of his imagination, but a man among men, of earnest, practical utilities. It was this sense of life, indeed, which gave force and reality to his mental creations. The book in which he embodied his views was entitled, " Notions of the Americans, by a travelling Bachelor," the first of several in which the living contemporary manners of his country- men are topics of discussion. It was in reference to this work that the lines of the poet Halleck were written, in the opening of his poem " Red Jacket:" "Cooper, whose name is with his country's woven, First in her files, her Pioneer of mind— A wanderer now in other climes, has proven His love for the young land he left behind; "And throned her in the senate-hall of nations, Robed like the deluge rainbow, heaven-wrought Magnificent as his own mind's creations, And beautiful as its green world of thought; "And faithful to the Act of Congress quoted As law authority, it passed nem. con.; He writes that we are, as ourselves have voted, The most enlightened people ever known. JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 20V "That all our week is happy as a Sunday In Paris, full of song, and dance, and laugh ; And that, from Orleans to the Bay of Fundy, There's not a bailiff or an epitaph. "And furthermore, in fifty years, or sooner, We shall export our poetry and wine; And our brave fleet, eight frigates and a schooner, Will sweep the seas from Zembla to the Line." From France Mr. Cooper passed to Switzerland, where he resided during the summer of 1828, at Berne, at a country-house in the vicinity of the city, and as the winter approached crossed the Alps, and made his home for a time at Florence; for in these migrations he literally carried his home with him, establishing himself in quar- ters of his own, and, while fully avail- ing himself of the resources of the country, preserving at the same time his old domestic habits. His family grew up around him under his own roof, and the labors of his pen were pursued at leisure. In the Casa Rica- soli, at Florence, which he made the seat of a generous hospitality, Mr. Cooper wrote his novel, the " Wept of Wish-ton-wish," which he had planned in Switzerland, a tale of old Connecti- cut Puritan life, of a capture by the Indians, the fate of the white maiden, adopted into the tribe, the story of her parents' deprivation, and of the return of the daughter, an Indian wife and mother, to her long lost civilized home. The incidents were well suited to the author's powers, which were always happily employed in Indian adventure and the portrayal of the natural affec- tions. From Florence the novelist migrated by way of Leghorn, in a coasting voy- age, to Naples. Establishing himself again for the summer, in a most pictu- resquely situated habitation at Sorren- to, commanding a most extensive view of a region of undying classical interest. The house which he occupied had the traditional reputation of having been occupied by the poet Tasso. There, in the study and enjoyment of the sea and land beneath his eye, the greater portion of the "Water Witch" was written, the scene being laid " in Ame- rican waters, on the shores of Staten Island, while the time chosen was the period shortly after the English had taken possession of New- Amsterdam— the Dutch element of the colony figur- ing largely in the book." . There was some difficulty about printing the booh at Rome, whither the author removed at the setting in of winter, and he was compelled to adjourn this advantage, preparatory to sending copies to Eng- land, France and America, till his arri- val the next season at Dresden. At Rome Mr. Cooper mingled with the better society always to be found there, and employed himself in a liberal study of the antiquities of the place. He passed thence to Venice by the States of the Church, and from Venice to Germany, returning to Paris in time to witness the stirring scenes of the Revolution of 1830, which placed Louis Philippe on the throne. He was in conference with Lafayette at this crisis, and proposed to him a plan of government, in the establishment of Henry V., which would have combined royal authority with popular constitu- tional securities. He was also engaged in the defence of his country from a 208 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. charge made in the "Revue Britan- nique," that the government of the United States was one of the most ex- pensive in existence. This led to some controversy, which was not suffered materially to divert the mind of the author from his more regular pursuit of novel-writing. The " Bravo," a tale of Venice, was given to the world in 1831, and received with various degrees of favor. It is certainly creditable to the writer's talent for romance writing, that he was charged with having imi- tated a popular work of Monk Lewis in this production, when he had never read the book which it was said he had copied. His next novel was the " Heidenmauer," which, like the " Bra- vo," had a political design. It was speedily followed by the " Headsman," the scene of which was laid in Switzer- land, the result of a second visit to that country in the summer of 1832. Not long after this, in 1833, the author re- turned to America after a residence abroad of seven years, the incidents of which he afterwards made his country- men familiar with in a series of delight- ful books of travel, abounding with vivid descriptions of men and things, shrewd observation and ingenious re- flection, entitled, " Sketches of Switzer- land," and " Gleanings in Europe, France and Italy." On his arrival in America, Mr. Coo- per, who was naturally a resolute dis- putant, fell into a controversial vein which for a time interfered with that enjoyment of his writings which the hearts of his countrymen were always ready to accord. At this time of day it is hardly worth while to dwell upon these passages, though they engrossed too large a part of the author's atten- tion, and entered too deeply into his writings to be ignored in his biogra- phy. In his once famous "Letter to his Countrymen," published soon after his return, he replied with some acri- mony to the newspaper attacks upon his reputation, always, perhaps, an im- politic course, and in his case to be sin- cerely lamented, for it was felt to be a great mind giving importance to little things. The spirit of controversy, too, got into his works of the imagination, and his next three novels, the " Moni- kins," and "Homeward Bound," and " Home as Found," published between the years 1835 and 1838, were strongly tinctured with this argumentative sati- rical humor. Its exercise exposed him to much censure at the time, but it is generally conceded that his course was an independent one, and that he had at heart the good of his countrymen. It led him, however, into a protracted conflict with the journals, ending in a series of libel suits instituted by him against the defamatory newspapers, which he conducted with great energy, and in which, we believe, he was uni- formly victorious. In the midst of these altercations, which undoubtedly for awhile obscured the just literary fame of the author, Mr. Cooper came before the public with his "Naval History of the United States." It was published in 1839, was well received, and remains a standard work in the American library. The author's practice in narrative gave him a great advantage in the vivid recital of naval actions, while his punctilio JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. .. 209 and exactness in all matters relating to the order and discipline of the sendee imparted to the work its critical cha- racter. An important addition to this work was published by him some years later, in his series of "Lives of distinguished Naval Officers." There is an unpretending, manly tone in all these productions which is very hap- pily in accordance with the spirit and requisitions of the subject. No warmer appreciator of the essential traits of American character in its better deve- lopments ever lived than Mr. Cooper. He was eminently fitted for the work of biography and history, and had he devoted himself more particularly to these departments would no doubt have achieved a reputation hardly infe- rior to that which he secured in his special field. From these somewhat distracting pursuits, the novelist, who had now es- tablished his home at Cooperstown, at the old hall built by his father on the Otsego Lake, returned to his early suc- cesses in fiction in the production of a novel, the " Pathfinder," built up on the associations of the favorite " Last of the Mohicans." Reminiscences of his adventures as a midshipman on the shores of Lake Ontario were blended with his inventions, and the whole proved a most harmonious, pleasing picture of forest life—an impression upon the public mind which after the appearance of an intermediate novel, "Mercedes of Castile," was seconded by another work, which appeared shortly after, not a whit inferior, the " Deerslayer." The chivalric Indian of the old Leatherstocking type appears in these works surrounded by groups of characters naturally drawn, with a chastened enthusiasm, particularly in the female personages, which, as usual with the author's delineations of the sex were models of delicacy and purity. The scene of " Deerslayer " was laid on the Otsego Lake, at an early period, when the land was as yet clothed with its primeval woods. " Deerslayer " re- presents the youth of the chivalrous Indian hero who figures in so many of the author's novels. It was the last book in which he was introduced, but the first, in the order of his history, to be read in following his fortunes. Mr. Cooper, having now reestab- lished his fame by two productions of imposing merit in the old field of In- dian adventure on land in this second or after-period of his literary career, turned his attention with like success to his other domain of the sea. The " Two Admirals," and " Wing and Wing," assured the public of his una- bated powers in this direction also. Other works rapidly followed, tales of land and ocean—" Wyandotte, or the Hutted Knoll;" " Afloat and Ashore," and its sequel, " Miles Wallingford;" " The Crater, or, Vulcan's Peak ;" " Oak Openings, or, the Bee-hunter;" " Jack Tier, or, the Florida Reef;" "The Sea Lions, or, the Lost Sealers"—carrying us to icy, Antarctic regions; a distinct series, bearing the names, " Satanstoe," " The Chain-bearer," and " The Red- skins," written with a political purpose in illustration of and opposition to the New York anti-rent doctrines of the day, and last of the extended proces- sion of novels, "The Ways of the 210 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. Hour," which had also a social and political bearing. The work last mentioned appeared in 1850, in the author's sixty-first year, and he was yet planning new achieve- ments in literature. His failing health, however, began to warn his friends that the end was approaching, though it was difficult to bring home the idea of any interruption of that vigorous, manly career which had kept on so bravely in its long work of profit and instruction. Even while he was dying, part of the manuscript of an unfinished book from his pen, a social history of "The Towns of Manhattan," illustrative of his favorite Westchester County and its family histories, was in the printer's hands. But the inexorable messenger who interrupts all earthly labor sus- pended the work in its progress, and the author was summoned from his books, and family, and friends. The immediate cause of his death was a dropsical affec- tion. He expired on the eve of his sixty-second birthday, at his family seat at Cooperstown, September 14, 1851. He was a man of a warm-hearted, generous nature, robust and stalwart, mentally and physically; of a healthy temperament, seeing the world through no ideal medium, sensitive in his per- ceptions, hardy and resolute in his re- solves. He had something more than most men of the combative in his dispo- sition, but it did not impair the integ- rity of his motives, the worth of his friendship, or the purity of his patriot- ism. In literature his character was of eminent service to his country, which needed such a guide, and such a cham- pion of her claims to originality. No one has done more for the fame of the nation, especially on the continent of Europe, than James Fenimore Cooper. His works have been translated and read in well-nigh all living languages, and have created an interest in the country in the minds of those who could not be readily approached by any other means. To his own people he has left not only the ever attractive series of his works, but the not less valuable example of his earnest, manly character. His eulogy has been admir- ably pronounced by Bryant; the inci- dents of his life yet waiting a matured biography, have been affectionately set forth by his daughter—and the conge- nial pencil of the artist Darley has fol- lowed with loving devotion and kin- dred power, the creations of his genius. s&r/F.#t WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. The Virginia Harrison family, of which the President of the United States was descended, is traced to a colonial ancestor in the middle of the seventeenth century. A son of this early inhabitant gave birth to Benja- min Harrison, who established the line at the family seat at Berkeley, Charles City County, on James River. He was a lawyer, speaker of the House of Burgesses, and much esteemed in the colony, where he exercised a liberal influence by his virtues and hospitali- ty. His grandson of the same name was the signer of the Declaration of Independence, and father of the Presi- dent. The family had always taken an active part in public affairs, propor- tioned to its growing wealth and im- portance, and the young Benjamin, who was early left to the care of the estate, was not disposed to avoid this responsibility. He took his seat in the House of Burgesses, before he reached the legal age, and became at once marked out by his firmness and ability as a political leader. He was one of the committee appointed in IT64 to prepare an address to the king, and memorials to parliament on the resolu- tions of the House of Commons, prepa- ratory to the Stamp Act. When the first independent convention of dele- gates met at Williamsburgh, ten years afterward, when the mismanagement of parliament had ripened the country for revolt, he was sent a member of the first Continental Congress, which met in Philadelphia. He was also a mem- ber of the second Virginia assembly of delegates at Richmond in 1775, which took the active measures placing the county in a state of self-defence and resistance. He at first regarded these steps as premature, but speedily acqui- esced in the vote of the House. He was again returned to the second and more important General Congress at Philadelphia. An anecdote is related of him at this time in connection with John Hancock. When the spirited Boston leader showed some reluctance or diffidence in accepting the Presi- dency on the retirement of Peyton Randolph, Harrison, who was standing by him, is said to have seized him in his arms and placed him bodily in the chair, with the exclamation, "We will show Mother Britain how little we care for her, by making a Massachusetts man our president, whom she has excluded from pardon by a public proclamation."x Another story 1 Life of Harrison. Sanderson's Biography of the Signers. 211 212 WILLiAM HENRY HARRISON. is narrated involving a similar allusion to his powerful figure, in his remark to Elbridge Gerry, his very opposite, in a slender, spare person, at the signing of the Declaration. " When the hanging scene comes to be exhibited," said Har- rison, as he raised his pen from the instrument, " I shall have all the ad- vantage over you. It will be over with me in a minute, but you will be kicking in the air half an hour after I am gone." Anecdotes like these, of such a man, show no levity of disposi- tion in conflict with the serious duties in which he was employed, but they do show an animation and good heart in the cause which needed every sup- port of physical temperament as well as mental resolve. Our fathers fought with cheerfulness as well as resolution. Harrison continued in Congress ac- tively employed in its various employ- ments till the close of 1777, when he only transferred his political duties to his native State. He was speaker of the House of Burgesses till 1782, in- cluding the disastrous period of the invasion of Virginia, and was then twice elected governor. He was again called from private life to sit in the State Convention, of the Constitution, to which he gave his influential sup- port, and was more or less engaged in public life to his death, in 1791. William Hemy Harrison was his third »on. He was born at Berkeley, the family residence, February 9,1773; s<> that he came into the field of active life with the new generation which succeeded the Revolutionary era. His education was well provided for under the care of the family friend, the finan- cier Robert Morris, and at Hampden Sidney College in Virginia, whence he turned to the study of medicine. He had acquired some knowledge of the profession in the office of a physician of Richmond, and was about to pursue his studies with the celebrated Doctor Rush, at Philadelphia, when his father's death occurred, and, with some reluc- tance on the part of his family, he chose for himself a military life. He was aided by General Henry Lee in obtaining a commission as ensign in the 1st regiment of United States in- fantry, and as the government had then an Indian war on its hands in the Western Territory, he at once, at the age of nineteen, found himself engaged in active service. Passing but a few days in Philadelphia, he hastened to his regiment, stationed at fort Wash- ington, the site of the present Cincin- nati, where he joined the remains of the broken forces of St. Clair, just escaped from the disastrous engagement at the Miami villages. It was thus that he was introduced to a region with which he became thoroughly identified, and his popularity in which, long after the scenes of war were over, carried him triumphantly into the Presidential chair. The ill fortune which had befallen St. Clair was calculated to rouse the warlike spirit of the generous youth; and it had its lesson of caution and preparation in dealing with the In- dians, which was not lost upon subse- quent campaigns. When Major-Gene- ral Wayne took the field, in the sum- mer of 1793, Harrison, now holding the rank of lieutenant in his regiment, WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 213 was appointed his aid. In the brilliant engagement at the Rapids of the Miami, he distinguished himself by his valor, and secured from Wayne special men- 'tion in his dispatch of the victory, as " one who rendered the most essential service, by communicating my orders in every direction, and by his conduct and bravery exciting the troops to press for victory." The battle on the Miamis was fought August 20, 1794, and a year afterward, with various in- termediate demonstrations and negoti- ations brought forth its peaceable fruits in Wayne's treaty of Greenville, which closed the war. Harrison was then, at the age of twenty-three, with the rank of Captain, placed in command of Fort Washing- ton, where he about the same time was married to the daughter of John Cleves Symmes, whose name is so honorably distinguished in the history of the western settlements, and particularly as the founder of Cincinnati. The young -officer held this post till 1797, when he sent in his resignation, with the intention thereafter, says his bio- grapher, Montgomery, " of devoting his time to the peaceful and more conge- nial pursuits of agriculture." He was speedily, however, withdrawn from these quiet anticipations to public du- ties, in his appointment by President Adams as secretary of the Northwest Territory, then under the government of St. Clair. When the Territory be- came organized, and was qualified to send a delegate to Congress, Harrison was chosen its first representative in 1799. He distinguished himself in this body by his activity and success in secur- n—27 ing to settlers the privilege of purchas- ing the public lands in small quantities, and in measures favoring their preemp- tion rights and modes of payment. On the division of the Territory, Harrison was withdrawn from Con- gress to discharge the duties of the first governor of the newly formed Territory of Indiana, which included the present States of Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin. This was in 1801, and the whole region now so populous numbered only five thousand people, scattered over the whole country, ex- posed to the dangers of frontier life and the unsettled relations with the Indians. " With such difficulties," says his biographer, "it was no less "a mat- ter of duty than of necessity that he should be clothed with the amplest independent powers. Amongst those of a civil as well as political nature conferred upon him were those jointly with those of the judges, of the legisla- tive functions of the Territory, the ap- pointment of all the civil officers within the Territory, and all the military offi- cers of a grade inferior in rank to that of general; commander-in-chief of the militia; the absolute and uncontrolled power of pardoning all offences; sole commissioner of treaties with the In- dians with unlimited powers, and the power of conferring, at his option, all grants of lands." Harrison held this proconsular office for sixteen years, dur- ing which he saw the country steadily increasing in strength and prosperity; though his career, experienced and pru- dent as it was, proved not without dif- ficulties with the Indians, rising at length to open warfare. 214 m WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. The struggle, known as the battle of Ttppecanoe, which took place on the seventh of November, 1811, involved various elements of preparation on the part of the savages, some of which im- part to their conduct of the war an inte- rest with, which there will always be a certain degree of sympathy. The effort of a falling race to regain its authority under a leader like Tecumseh, assisted by the fanaticism of his brother the Prophet, is raised out of the rank of the ordinary Indian fighting propensities. The Indian chief was a hero of no ordi- nary class. To the virtues of the war- rior in arms, he united many of those moral qualities so powerful in strength- ening the courage of the soldier. He was self-denying, forbearing, and even compassionate. Born in the centre of Ohio, he represented the races immedi- ately west of the Alleghanies, whom he appears early to have sought to unite against the whites. Consistently with his character for sincerity he de- clined to attend Wayne's council of peace at Greenville. His great effort was to bring the scattered tribes to act in concert. For this purpose he estab- lished, in 1808, an Indian settlement at the Tippecanoe River, a tributaiy of the Wabash, in Indiana, whither, with the aid of the Prophet, he brought together a considerable number of recruits to his mingled political and superstitious teaching. The "Wabash Prophet," as he was called, was at first considered a simple visionary. Jefferson, then in the Presi- dency, took this view of him, and thought little harm would come of his preaching the simple austerities of their forefathers j to a race not remarkably disposed to ab- stinence and self-denial. His success, however, and the activity and declara- tions of Tecumseh, with the imminent English war at hand, aroused the anxie- ty ' ties of the people of the Territory, and when positive ground was taken by the Indian leader at the conference of Vin- cennes against the progress of the treat- ies by which Harrison was extending the authority of the whites, it was found necessary to assume a decided mi- litary stand. The governor therefore at length, in October, 1811, advanced his forces, composed of regulars and militia, officered by experienced western leaders, toward the Indian settlement presided over by the prophet on the Tippecanoe. Moving forward cautiously with a force of nine hundred men, he reached a sta- tion about a mile and a half from the town, where a military encampment was formed, when some conferences were commenced with the foe. It was evi- dent that the purposes of the Prophet were hostile. Harrison arranged his men in order to receive the assault, which was made by the Indians early on the morning of the seventh of Novem- ber. It was in fact a night attack, though commenced after four o'clock, a drizzling rain, and the season Of the year favoring the darkness. The onset was made with vigor, on all sides of the encampment, which was gallantly de- fended, with considerable loss of life by the rifle companies at their several sta- tions. The camp was thus resolutely held, and kept unbroken, till daybreak, when new military dispositions were made, and a charge at the point of the bayonet, put the Indians to the rout. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 215 " With this success," says Mr. Dawson, in his account of the battle,1" the engage- ment was ended; both parties appeared to have satisfied the expectations of 'their friends. The steady, undeviating courage of the American troops elicited great commendation; while Governor Harrison, speaking of his savage ene- my, says 'the Indians manifested a ferocity uncommon even with them.' In this, however, they were inspirited by the religious fanaticism under which they acted—the Prophet, during the action, being posted on a neighboring eminence, singing a war-song; and in faint imitation of. Moses in the wilder- ness, directing his people by the move- ments of his rod." The forces engaged in this battle were probably about equal. The Americans lost some sixty officers and men killed, or who died of their wounds, beside the wounded sur- vivors, and the Indian loss was sup- posed to have been greater. The attack upon the American camp was urged and directed in the absence of Tecumseh, by the Prophet, who promised in virtue of his soothsaying insight, an easy victory. The result was that he altogether lost credit with the tribes, whom he had inveigled to his town by his necromantic appeals. When the battle was fought, Tecumseh was on a journey to the Southern In- dians, whom he was stining up to his warlike enterprises. He reached the Wabash on his return in time to wit- ness the first effects of the discomfiture of his followers, and it is said, so great was his indignation toward his brother, 1 Battles of the United States, II. 13-81. the Prophet, that on his attempting to palliate his fool-hardy conduct, he seized him by the hair and threatened his life. The.disaster had broken up his long entertained hope of an Indian confede- racy against the white man. The game, however, was not quite up yet. The desperation of the Indians was taken advantage of by the British authorities on the frontier, to engage them in the war with America. In May, 1812, Te- cumseh openly joined the British stand- ard at Maiden. On the eighteenth of the following month war against Great Britain was formally declared by Con- gress. The campaign of Hull in Canada, opened with brilliant promise in his in- vasion of the country, speedily to be checked by his inefficiency and to ter- minate in his ignominious surrender of Detroit. This disaster, of a sufficiently afflictive character, so far however, from intimidating the western defenders, called them to new exertions, and vo- lunteer forces were raised in large num- bers in Ohio and Kentucky. There was at first some conflict of authority as to the command of the troops of the latter State, which, for the purpose of placing Harrison at their head, con- ferred upon him the brevet commission of Major-General, while the Secretary of War, ignorant of this movement, assigned the command to General Win- chester. The difficulty, however, was speedily solved by the appointment of General Harrison by the President, in September, commander-in-chief of the Western Department, when the left wing of the army was assigned to Gene- ral Winchester. Harrison himself took 216 WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. ' i his position in what the British con- quests had now made the frontier, the northerly portion of Ohio bordering on Michigan, and made his headquarters at Upper Sandusky. The new year 1813, opened with a movement on the part of Winchester, now established at the rapids of the Maumee to protect the outlying settle- ments in Michigan on the Raisin River, a territory virtually in possession of the British. For this purpose Colonel Lewis was dispatched with a force over the frozen waters of the adjacent por- tion of Lake Erie to Frenchtown, from which the enemy Avere driven with great gallantry. This action occurred on the eighteenth of January. On the twenty-second, the victors in the mean- time having been joined by Winchester with a small body of troops, an attack was made upon the American position by Colonel Proctor, who had issued forth from the neighboring Maiden, only eighteen miles distant, with a con- siderable party of royal troops, several pieces of artillery, and a formidable band of six hundred Indians. The camp was taken unprepared; such re- sistance as could be offered at the mo- ment was made, but the American defeat was complete. Such was the cruelty of the Indian allies and the merciless conduct of the British com- mander, that the action, an indelible disgrace to the British arms, passes in history as the massacre at the River Raisin. Both the officers, Lewis and Winchester were captured; of about a thousand American troops engaged, but thirty-three escaped, nearly four hundred were killed or missing, and the rest taken prisoners. General Har- rison, though he disapproved of the more than questionable attempt at hold- ing a position like Frenchtown in the face of the superior foe, did all that he could to save the fortunes of the array by hastening thither with recruits; but the action was fought and the disaster completed before he reached the scene, All further onward movements were of course, for the time, unavailing, and the commander-in-chief intrenched his forces at the Rapids of the Maumee, constructing there a fort, named in honor of Governor Meigs, of Ohio. The next important event of the war in this quarter was the attack on this fort in the spring, by a force led by General Proctor, of over two thousand men, more than one half of whom were Indians, and of the rest above five hun- dred were regulars. He made good his landing on the river two miles below the fort; but he had this time a more diligent commander than Winchester to encounter. Harrison, who anticipated an attack, had hastened from a recruit- ing mission to Cincinnati, to superintend the defence. The fort was defended by its elevated position and the usual pro- tection of works of that kind, of pick- ets and block houses. As a further protection against the pieces of artillery which the besiegers were bringing to bear upon it, a heavy embankment was carried across the works which sheltered the troops from the enemy's fire. The batteries of the assailants were opened on the first of May, and continued with energy for four days with little effect, when the arrival in the vicinity of Ken- tucky reinforcements under General WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 217 Clay, which Harrison had originally sent for, gave the commander the oppor- tunity to plan a concerted attack upon the besiegers. It was made by a sally from the fort and two divisions of Clay's troops at different points with various success; but the result was the virtual discomfiture or defeat of the British. The fighting of that fifth of May, proved the superiority of the Ame- ricans and a few days after the seige was abandoned. We here meet again with the Indian leader, Tecumseh, who proved himself a skillful combatant in the day's work, and who, we may mention, had exhibited his prowess in the campaign in Michi- gan at the expense of a detachment of Hull's command previous to his sur- render. A story of this chieftain's in- terposition in saving some of the pri- soners taken by the British in this action before Fort Meigs, is creditable to his humanity, while the necessity for such interposition adds another item to the fearful account against Proctor for his treachery and cruelty at the River Rais- in. While a dispute was raging be- tween the Potawatami.es and the more merciful Miamis and Wyandots, as to the fate of the captives, the work of scalping and slaughter having been al- ready wreaked on some twenty defence- less victims, Tecumseh came upon the spot flourishing his hatchet, and it is said burying it in the head of a chief en- *gaged in the bloody work, commanded them, for shame to desist. "It is a dis- grace," said he, "to kill a defenceless prisoner:" and his order was obeyed.1 1 Dawson's Seige of Fort Meigs. Battles of the United States. The loss of the Americans in the seige and the action was greater than that of the British; but we are to consider in the number of the slain those perfidi- ously murdered by the savage allies of the enemy. Proctor, at any rate, was unable to stand before the American forces now thickening around him. Thus relieved of the presence of the enemy, General Harrison waited the effects of Perry's movements on the lake below. Once in command of Lake Erie, the British occupation of Michigan he felt would now be abandoned. The interim between this time and Perry's victory which opened the way to the ex-" pected conquests was honorably marked by Major Croghan's gallant defence of Fort Stephenson, against another attack of Proctor. That action was fought on the first of August; on the tenth of September, Perry defeated and captured the whole British squadron. Harrison who had been impatiently waiting this result, now rapidly matured his meas- ures for the reconquest of the country overrun by the British. Employing the smaller vessels taken from the enemy to transport a portion of his forces, now powerfully recruited by the Kentucky volunteers, Harrison effected a landing on the Canadian shore, on the twenty- seventh of the month, and advancing to Maiden, found it abandoned by the British and its fort and storehouses de- stroyed. Proctor, with all his royal forces accompanied by Tecumseh with his Indians, had retreated within the peninsula along the line of the Thames, which empties into Lake St. Clair. General Harrison, leaving detachments of his force at Sandwich and Detroit, 218 WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. now regained, pushed on with a com- pany of about a hundred and forty re- gulars, Colonel Richard M. Johnson's mounted Kentuckians, and Governor Shelby's volunteers, also Kentuckians, after the retreating foe. Lewis Cass and Commodore Perry were with him as volunteer aids. The whole force amounted to about three thousand five hundred men. For some distance along the river the troops were accompanied by the smaller vessels of the fleet. The progress of the Americans along the route was of the most exciting character as they drove in the enemy from the defence of the bridges which lay in their way. On the fifth of Octo- ber they came up with the British forces of Proctor drawn up in the vicinity of the Moravian town. He had some eight hundred regular troops and about two thousand Indians. They were posted in front of the road and in an open wood flanked by the river on one hand and a swamp on the other. The Indians adjoined the swamp on the enemy's risrht. The attack was made on the front by the mounted Kentuckians, whose charge at once threw that portion of the foe into utter confusion, driv- ing through their ranks and assailing them from the rear. Colonel Johnson, meanwhile, was engaged in a stubborn conflict with the Indians, who, directed by the skill of Tecumseh, reserved their fire to tell with deadly effect upon the advancing column. Johnson was wounded, but his Kentuckians were not to be dismayed. Dismounting from . their horses they plied their rifles with great effect against the Indians who stood their ground well, but being un- supported by their British employers. were soon compelled to retreat. Proc- tor himself had already taken to flight, Tecumseh was slain in the battle, the most illustrious victim of the day. The number of chivalrous leaders engaged in the American ranks, men who were then or afterward became greatly cele- brated, Johnson, Cass, Perry, Shelby, is noticeable, while more than a quarter of a century later, " The battle of the Thames" was to be one of the" watch- words of victory for its General in a great political contest. The effect of this successful termina- tion of the contest following upon Per- ry's naval triumph—a success enhanced by the embarrassments and failures of the early part of the struggle—upon the West, can hardly be appreciated, at the present day. It was a release from danger and from fear, from a remorse- less foe and the scalping knife of the savag;e. With Tecumseh fell the last Indian enemy known to a great region of the West. Henceforth we are to follow his successful adversary through the paths of civil life. General Harri- son was not engaged in the later occu- pations of the army. He was in effect driven to retirement by the arrange- ments of General Armstrong, the Sec- retary of War, by whom he was, under some adverse influence or other, virtu- ally suspended in his command. When he was omitted in the plan of the next year's campaign, he resigned the com- mission which he held as major-general, and its accompanying emoluments. He now resided at his farm at North Bend, on the Ohio, near Cincinnati, which henceforth,' in the intervals of WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 219 public occupation to which he was fre- quently called, continued his residence. He was in Congress from 1816 to 1818, a member of the House of Representa- tives, and from 1824 to 1828 a member of the Senate. Between these dates he sat in the Ohio Senate. In 1828 we find him appointed by President John Quiney ' Adams, Minister Plenipoten- tiary to the Republic of Columbia. He reached Bogota, the seat of his du- ties, in February of the next year, and was received with favor, but he had hardly entered upon the mission when President Jackson coming into office, he was recalled. Resuming again his agri- cultural pursuits at North Bend upon his return, he was occasionally called upon to deliver public addresses and speeches, of which several were printed. One of these, which was republished during his canvass for the presidency, was a discourse before the Philosophical and Historical Society of Ohio, in 1837, in which he took the aborigines of the State for his text. He had some talent for composition and was fond of illus- trations drawn from ancient history. In 1836, General Harrison was a can- didate for the presidency in opposition to Van Buren. Though the strength of the Whig party which he represented, was somewhat divided, he received seventy-three electoral votes, a sufficient test of his popularity to bring him into the field again at the next election. The elements of opposition had in the meantime gained force; the countiy was suffering under an extraordinary financial depression; there was discon- tent on all sides. General Harrison re- ceived the nomination of twenty-two states at Harrisburg, and was triumph- antly borne into the presidential chair. A peculiarity of the canvass was the popular good will, which eagerly seiz- ing hold of the "log cabin" and " hard cider" as emblems of the simplicity of his early western life, turned them to political account. "Log cabins" were set up in villages and towns through- out the country, at which hard cider or its more comfortable equivalents were freely dispensed. Carried rapidly on- ward in the popular enthusiasm, he re- ceived the electoral vote of twenty of the twenty-six States, and two hundred and thirty-four electoral votes against only sixty given to Mr. Van Buren. The inauguration of President Harris son at Washington, took place on the 4th of March, 1841; on the same day of the following month he breathed his last. The active duties of his responsi- ble station, the exacting pretensions of office seekers who beset a new president, the pressure of the previous canvass, may have all contributed to the severity of the shock which deprived him of life. He was sixty-eight years old, a time of life when any great change of habit may easily destroy the constitution; when a simple cause may shake a wea- ried frame. A slight cold which he took by exposure to the rain was fol- lowed by sudden prostration; a diar- rhoea set in, and after an illness of but a few days he expired. His last words, heard by his physician, Dr. Worthing- ton, were as if addressing his successor, " Sir, I wish you to understand the true principles of the government. I wish them carried out. I ask nothing more." In announcing the event to the public, 220 WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. the members of the Cabinet, of which Daniel Webster was at the head, wrote: "The people of the United States, over- whelmed like ourselves, by an event so unexpected and so melancholy, will derive consolation from knowing that his death was calm and resigned as his life had been patriotic, useful, and dis- tinguished; and that the last utterance from his lips expressed a fervent desire for the perpetuity of the constitution and the preservation of its true princi- ples. In death, as in life, the happiness of his country was uppermost in his thoughts." The personal qualities of General Harrison had much to do with his ele- vation to the presidency. His life was marked by a union of moderation with good fortune and substantial success in public affairs. He was prosperous as a commander where others failed; he was identified with the growth and prospe- rity of a powerful region of the repub- lic; he had made few enemies though he had been the subject of hostility, and he had been too long retired from public life to awaken any new preju- dices. His military reputation, after the precedent of Jackson, was doubtless in his favor; but a belief in his good sense and his integrity, with the expecta- tions of the times, in a change of policy, were the elements of his success. Paxntsdlr.- Alonzo Caappel L&*? Ctr # WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. The life of this distinguished histo- rian exhibits not only the career of a successful man of letters in the produc- tion of a series of books of universal interest among; all civilized communi- ties; but it is remarkable for the con- quest, under peculiar privations, of diffi- culties in the pursuit of knowledge.sel- dom in like circumstances surmounted or even attempted to be surmounted. Mr. Prescott's great historical works were written, for the most part, by him while he was in a state of partial blind- ness, and the labor required was such that for purposes of study and composi- tion he might be considered wholly de- prived of sight. For a good portion of his long-continued toil he was obliged to rely on an assistant for reading and pre- senting his materials, exactly as Milton was dependent on his daughters. He had not the felicity of Milton in those years of profound and extensive study which had accumulated such vast trea- sures in his mind before the organ of sight was extinguished. But he had one advantage, it may be said, in wealth and leisure, which placed the literary trea- sures of the world at his disposal and gave him the command of the services'of intelligent secretaries. These were, how- ever, aids which depended altogether upon the resolution to employ them; for n.—28 wealth and leisure are oftener found means of self-indulgence, especially when physical disability offers so good a plea, than incentives to extraordinary exertion. The literary activity of Pres- cott would have been remarkable in a man of full health with every benefit of fortune; in his case a double debt of gratitude is due from his readers for whom, with strict parsimony, he hus- banded every moment of his time and every possible use of his powers. William Hickling Prescott was born at Salem, Massachusetts, the residence of his father, May 4,1796. His family was one of the most ancient and honored in the State, his immediate ancestors for four generations having been persons of distinction. His great-grandfather was a councillor of the old Colony Go- vernment; his grandfather was the memorable defender of Bunker Hill; his father, also named William Prescott, a lawyer and judge of high character, has been pronounced by competent au- thority, " one of the wisest and best as well as one of the ablest men that New England has produced." His mother was the daughter of Thomas Hickling, of whose character it is enaugh to say that he was appointed by Washington Consul at St. Michaels, and that he held the office for nearly half a century LING PRESCOTT. 222 WILLIAM HICK! The early years of Prescott were passed at Salem, but at twelve he came with his parents to Boston, and had the benefit in his education of the instruc- tion of the Rev. Dr. Gardiner, an Episco- pal clergyman of Boston, a good scholar and positive character of the old school. He entered Harvard at fifteen, the usual age, and graduated in regular course in 1814. It was while he was a student at Cambridge that the acci- dent occurred which so materially af- fected his eyesight. He" was sitting at table in the college hall when a school- mate threw a crust at him across the board. It struck his eye, and this slight cause was the occasion of his subse- quent difficulties. He entirely lost the use of the injured eye and the other became in consequence sympathetically affected, and so impaired that he could use it, at the best of times afterwards, only in the most guarded manner. He would, we are told, had it not been for this disaster, have engaged in his father's profession, the law; but the injury he had received rendered this impossible. He endeavored in every way to remedy it, by the relaxation of foreign travel and consultation with eminent Euro- pean oculists, who could afford him no aid. It was characteristic of the man that in this strait he deliberately chose a calling which he might pursue as his health permitted. In a letter which he wrote and which has been published by his friend the Rev. George E. Ellis, he says, speaking of his college acci- dent and his interrupted reading, "I consequently abandoned the study of the law upon which I had entered; and, as a man must find something to do, J determined to devote myself to letters, in which independent career I could regulate my own hours with reference to what my sight might enable me to accomplish." After two years travel in England, France and Italy, on his return home he devoted himself to a thorough pre- paration for historical studies in a dili gent cultivation of his faculties and a thorough course of study of ancient classical literature and the modern Ian guages of France, Italy and Spain. He had Gibbon before him as his great ex- emplar, that author's Autobiography, a kindling incentive to an ingenuous youth bent on the pursuit of letters, as he himself tells us, stimulating the strong passion for historical writing which he had early conceived. " I pro- posed," he says in the letter just cited, " to make myself a historian in the best sense of the term and hoped to produce something which posterity would not willingly let die." In a memorandum book, as far back as the year 1819 (he was then in his twenty-third year) " I find," he continues, "the desire inti- mated; and I propose to devote ten years of my life to the study of ancient and modern literature—chiefly the lat- ter—and to give ten years more to some historical work." The design was literally and faith- fully carried out. The occasional pa- pers which he published in the North American JReview during this advanced period of literary pupilage bear witness to the range and happy selection of his studies. They include critical and de- scriptive articles on Italian Narrative Poetry, the Poetry and Romance of the WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. 223 Italians, Moliere, Cervantes, Irving's " Conquest of Granada"—the last, writ- ten in 1829, significant of the direction his mind had already taken. Its open- ing sentences are filled with frequent suggestions of his historic enterprise as he glances at the requisitions of the finished historian. He not only sees the inevitable requisites of truth and fidelity, but is quite awake to the lighter graces and artistic demands. "Mixed up," says he, "with the drier details, he must display the various powers of a novelist or dramatist, throw- ing his characters into suitable lights and shades, disposing his scenes so as to awaken and maintain an unflagging interest, diffusing over the whole that finished style, without which his work will only become a magazine of mate- rials for the more elegant edifices of subsequent writers." The historical theme which he chose for the main exercise of his powers was the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, an admirably selected subject leading the way to a mine of literary wealth worked before and since by many emi- nent writers, but by none more profit- ably than by himself. It was his first care in preparation for this work to sur- round himself with an ample store of original authorities. Fortune, happily, had placed it in his power to satisfy this prime necessity of his labors. His studies, his correspondence and friend- ships had given him peculiar facilities, which he availed himself of to the utmost. But while his materials were being collected for him at Madrid, his eye was so severely tried by his studies that on the arrival of these Spanish authorities, he was quite unable to use them. It was several years before he was again in a situation to read. " I well remember," he wrote subsequently, " the blank despair which I felt when my literary treasures arrived from Spain and I saw the mine of wealth lying around me which I was forbidden to explore." It was not in his nature, however, to despair. He was already prepared to encounter the hardships of a partial deprivation of sight; nor did his courage fail him at the prospect of total blindness. The heroic effort of Milton was before him, which appears always to have cheered his heart. A remark of Dr. Johnson in his life of the great poet, to the effect that the composition of a history from various authors " when they can only be con- sulted by other eyes, is not easy, nor possible, but with more skillful and at- tentive help than can be commonly obtained," he tells us "first engaged my attention in the midst of my em- barrassments, and, although discourag- ing at first, in the end stimulated the desire to overcome them." A happier instance of the benefit of a chance-sown reflection—and the writings of Johnson, who always looked tenderly to human interests, abounds with such—can hard- ly be found in literature. The young author set himself reso- lutely to the work of overcoming the difficulty. "The ear," as he said, "was to do the work of the eye." He began experimentally with a reader who knew no language but English, who com- menced reciting to him the history of Mariana in tones which he was gradu- ally taught to accommodate to his hear- 224 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. er's perceptions. It was unsatisfactory enough at first as they groped their way through the darkness, but "in a few weeks the light became stronger; and cheered," Mr. Prescott tells us, " by the consciousness of my own improve- ment, when we had toiled our way through seven quartos, I found I could understand the book when read about two-thirds as fast as ordinary English." A more accomplished assistant was then engaged to lead, if we should not rather say, be led, by the author through this dreary track of investigation. After some years spent in this "tortoise-like progress," listening to the crabbed de- tails, selecting the most valuable points, dictating them to the amanuensis and again listening to the repeated reading of them till the whole was stored for use in the author's mind, ready to be engrossed in a chapter of his narrative, he had recourse to a method which enabled him to help himself. Thierry, the French historian of the Norman Conquest, also deprived of sight, had advised him to cultivate dictation, but he usually preferred a method which he had found in use in London in the beneficent efforts for the ameliora- tion of the condition of the blind. As described by himself, this simple ap- paratus consisted of "a frame of the size of a sheet of paper, traversed by brass wires, as many as lines are wanted on the page, with a sheet of carbonated paper, such as is used for getting duplicates, pasted on the reverse side. With an ivory or agate stylus the writer traces his characters between the wires on the carbonated sheet, mak- ing indelible marks, which he cannot see, on the white page below." It was "a treadmill operation," he says, subject to many " whimsical distresses," and the characters traced had something of the nature of hieroglyphics, but he found this writing-case his " best friend in his lonely hours," and with its aid he penned the many successive volumes of his histories. Before, however, his first work, the "Ferdinand and Isabella," was completed, his sight was so far re- covered as to enable him to revise the manuscripts which he had thus pre- pared unseen. In 1837, the work was committed to the press. Its reception at once, at home and abroad, stamped the author as a popular writer with the masses and an acquisition to the learned circles of the world. It has been translated into Spanish, Italian and German, and passed into a universal literary currency. Its merits were not to be mistaken. A spirit of calm, judicious investigation, supported by unwearied industry and research; with a constant regard to the artistic opportunities of the ever vary- ing theme; all borne along on a style of remarkable ease and clearness, were not to be overlooked in a rising histo- rian who came to fill a much lamented gap in the best stored libraries. Mr. Everett relates an anecdote of the pos- sessor of such a collection who was loud in his praises. " Calling one day," says he," on the venerable Mr. Thomas Gren ville, whom I found in his library, the second in size and value of the private libraries of England, reading Xeno- phon's 'Anabasis' in the original, 1 made some passing remark on the beauty of that work. ' Here,' said he, WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. 225 holding up a volume of 'Ferdinand and Isabella,' ' is one far superior.'"* Yet such was the modesty of the author that, after he had finished the work, he hesi- tated as to its publication. Content with the gratification of having written the book, of his triumph over extraordi- nary difficulties, he said to his father " that he should place it on his shelf and leave it for those who come after him." The work, it should be mentioned, was printed for his own use, that he might be able to correct it, in large type in quarto. In the same spirit with the remark to his father, he consulted Mr. Jared Sparks as a consummate master of historic studies, placing the volumes in his hands for perusal. He was, of course, met with an expression of admi- ration at the beauty and interest of the work. This the cautious mood of the writer questioned as a tribute of friendly feeling, and asked anew," Do you think it should be published ?" " Why not ?" was the reply; to which the author ex- pressed his doubts of success in the remoteness of the subject and his fear that his execution of it would not prove sufficiently attractive. The judgment of his father, it is said, determined his resolution to publish. Without placing too much stress_upon anecdotes of this kind, which frequently savor of affecta- tion, we may believe the emotion in this case to have been real and that it would have cost the author no sacrifice of vanity to have withheld his book from the public. Yet we can hardly suppose him unconscious of its value; he, un- doubtedly, with the greatest intellects, 1 Mr. Everett's Remarks on Mr. Prescott before the Massachusetts Historical Society. experienced a pleasure in the exercise of his faculties, and was quite too well con- scious of the means which he so dili- gently employed to be ignorant of re- sults. Besides, there is in the minds of the best authors a stronger satisfaction in the sense of ability, the faculty to do something which demands genius and effort, the self-approval of accomplishing it, than in the accidental returns of favor from the public. Vanity must be re- warded on the instant, but genius, self inspired, can wait. Mr. Prescott's second work was a natural sequence to his first. He had already been carried in his labors to the western hemisphere, and two of the most brilliant episodes of history, in the discoveries and conquests of Mexico and Peru, lay before him. Again rein- forced by a copious stock of new mate- rials, he approached his task with a stimulus of original research denied to -his predecessors in the field. The Royal Academy of History at Madrid placed at his disposal the extensive man- uscript collections of the indefatigable historiographer Munoz, and of its presi- dent, Don Vargas Ponce, while the living head of that body, the eminent Navarrete, made him a like sharer of his labors. From Mexico itself, from Naples and from Great Britain, he obtained like important aid. Thus fortified he approached his captivating subject. He had hardly completed this preparation, however, when he learnt that the topic had already engaged the attention of Washington Irving, who may be said to have fairly taken possession of this his- toric ground in America by his " Life of Columbus." The story filled with gal- 226 WILLIAM HICK] lantry and enterprise and deeds of thrilling adventure must indeed have been attractive to the pen to which Spanish themes of knightly daring al- ways presented a peculiar fascination. That Mr. Irving readily yielded to his brother in letters was in a noble spirit of courtesy worthy of the association; for he had not only his eye upon the tempting narrative but had made some progress, we believe, in collecting the requisite material. But whatever he had undertaken in this direction he cheerfully relinquished the whole; and well did he entitle himself to the hand- some compliment which Mr. Prescott paid him in his allusion to this instance of magnanimity. "It was not," says he, in his preface to the " Conquest of Mexico," " till I had become master of my rich collection of materials, that I was acquainted with this circumstance; and, had he persevered in his design, I should unhesitatingly have abandoned my own, if not from courtesy, at least from policy; for, though armed with the weapons of Achilles, this could give me no hope of success in a competition with Achilles himself. But no sooner was that distinguished writer informed of the preparations I had made, than, with the gentlemanly spirit which will surprise no one who has the pleasure of his acquaintance, he instantly announced to me his intention of leaving the sub- ject open to me. While," gracefully added the writer, " I do But justice to Mr. Irving by this statement, I feel the prejudice it does to myself in the una- vailing regret I am exciting in the bosom of the reader." The " Conquest of Mexico" was pub- ING PRESCOTT. lished in 1843, and its companion his tory, the " Conquest of Peru," appeared in 1847. The general attractiveness and splendor of the subject, the abun- dant opportunity for picturesque de- scription in geography, natural history, the quaint civilization of the countries, and above all the blending of biography with history in the military adventures of the two heroes Cortez and Pizarro, the whole tinctured by the wonder and enthusiasm of the old Spanish authori- ties, gained probably for the author many new admirers even for his more sober political and state discpiisitions. The flowing ease of his style, his choice selection of circumstances and careful arrangements of his stage scenery were well bestowed, and the result was, as before, a work of lasting interest. The field of Spanish adventure in America being thus fairly divided with equal honors, between Irving and Pres- cott, the latter turned to the more intri- cate but not less imposing procession of events in Europe. Passing over the reign of Charles V.—though he subse- quently added notes and an appendix to the life of that monarch by Robert- son, presenting the newly discovered details of his career in retirement after his abdication—he devoted himself assi- duously to his last great undertaking, the " History of the Reign of Philip II." Two volumes of this work were issued in 1855, and a third was still wet from the press in the beginning of 1859, when, on the twenty-eighth of January of that year, the author was suddenly called from his earthly labors. Critics were busy analyzing his noble work and sounding his praies, when their WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. 227 pens were summoned to write his obitu- ary, and to the eulogy of the author was added new admiiation of the man. So quietly and moderately had Mr. Pres- cott lived, in devotion to his family and friends and in the engrossing pursuit of his historic studies, that it has sel- dom happened that one so well known by fame and cherished in his writings had furnished so little of personal anec- dote to bring his life familiarly home to his readers. There was no deter- mined seclusion in this, for he appears always to have been affable and easy of approach. It arose from his earnest, continuous occupation in his work as the chosen labor of his life, from which he turned neither to the right nor the left. His attention was never dis- tracted by politics or society, which bring men into mixed relations with the public; he was free from the vanity of obtruding himself. The world knew him only through his writings. The death of Mr. Prescott, though the blow fell suddenly, was not alto- gether unexpected; at least he had the previous warning a few months before of a first attack of paralysis. When he was again fatally stricken by this dis- ease, it came upon him in the enjoyment of apparent health as he was engaged in his usual occupations. A friend who saw him a few days before his decease, was struck with his cheerfulness and eager interest in matters of literature. So that those who loved him were re- conciled to his departure, " taken away by a noiseless appointment and a swift angel."* 1 Address of the Rev. Dr. Frothingham before the Massachusetts Historical Society. The devotion of Mr. Prescott to his chosen pursuits was singular. The care of his family and the social demands upon one of his position in society being taken into consideration, it was extraordinary. Of course it could only be attained by the most punctilious self-denying me- thod. It is perhaps not difficult for one gifted with a taste for writing, to em- ploy many hours of the day in compo- sition; but to associate this pleasing occupation with the requisite industry of the great historian extorting his mat- ter from the dry records and obscurities of strange foreign dialects; to be met at every turn by doubt and perplexity; to turn wearied from the labor of re- search to the hardly less exacting de- mands of grouping, arrangement, and— in Mr. Prescott's case—of careful dicta- tion or a mode of writing quite out of the way of the usual facilities, may well demand our admiration. One of his secretaries has given us an interesting picture of his entire method—introduc- ing us, as it were, to the secrets of his workshop. He is speaking of the year 1847, when the author was beginning his work on Philip II. " Systematical in all his habits," says his secretary, "his daily mode of life was regulated by an exact division of time, to which he adhered punctiliously. He rose early, waked by an alarm clock, whose summons he never disobeyed. Ascertaining by the thermometer the state of the temperature out of doors, he clothed himself accordingly, putting on so many pounds of clothing, more or less, according to the weather. His coats, vests, and pantaloons, were all marked with their weight in pounds 2-28 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. and ounces. He walked for half an hour before breakfast, generally, I think, going over the same route each day— that is, walking to a particular spot and then turning back. He always walked alone, if he could without discourtesy, disliking to have any companion in his rambles, because while walking he oc- cupied his thoughts in composition. After breakfast his wife read to him for an hour, during which time he shaved and made his toilet for the day. The book selected for this hour was always one of light literature—generally a no- vel. He was very fond of novels, and thought they stimulated his imagina- tion and contributed to the animation and picturesqueness of his style. But nothing could tempt him to give more than an hour to such reading. When the hour expired, the reading stopped, not to be resumed till the next day, no matter how interesting the book or exciting the story. At the time I speak of, he was reading, in this way, the novels of Dumas and Eugene Sue— ' Monte Christo,'' The Mysteries of Pa- ris,' and 'The Wandering Jew.' At the end of the hour the book would be laid down, even in the midst of the most intense chapter. He confessed he relished highly these romances, though he laughed at their extravagance, com- paring them to the * Arabian Nights,' and saying that they were composed on the principle of carrying out in Western scenes and characters the au- dacious wildness of Oriental invention. He delighted also to have Dickens read to him, and when sitting for his por- trait to Healy, and afterwards to West (the artist who painted the well-known portrait of Lord Byron), he took me with him to read 'The Old Curiosity Shop.' "The novel-reading in the morning ended always at ten, and Mr. Prescott again went out to walk for half an hour, taking a different route from that of the before-breakfast walk. At 10& my work began. I came to his house at that hour every day, except Sunday. He liked to have me punctual, and dis- liked to have me come before the time appointed. If I came after the time he would make no complaint, but would gently rebuke me by looking at his watch. He allowed ten minutes' grace for accidental detentions. For an hour and a half I read to him, or wrote for him, and then, at 12 o'clock, he sallied forth again for another walk, during which he made purchases, or attended to any business he might have in State street, where, I think, he always went at this hour. At 1 o'clock he returned and resumed the labors of the study for another hour and a half. At 2^ he dined. After dinner, Mrs. Prescott again read to him for an hour from a novel, while he smoked the solitary cigar to which he restricted himself, always choosing the mildest he could get. His numerous friends and corres- pondents in Cuba and other parts of Spanish America, kept him supplied with a curious variety of brands. If I remember rightly, he walked out again for half an hour in the afternoon, his daily stint of exercise in this way being five miles. He never failed to perform at least that amount of walking. If the weather was so stormy that he could not go out, when his set times arrived, WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. 229 he would put on his hat, boots, and gloves, take his cane, and walk briskly about the house, for the half hour or hour, as the case might be. At 6 p.m. I came to him again, and remained till 8, when the labors of the day were over. His rule was to spend five hours of the twenty-four in his study, and he never exceeded that amount." To this curious account of the day of an author may be added some more particular details of hi3 manner of histo- rical composition from the same source. He began his Philip II., for instance, by causing to be taken down from his library all the books and manuscripts relating to the subject, materials which he had previously collected by orders throughout Europe, unlimited as re- gards variety or expense. Several hundred volumes in various languages having been thus brought together in his study, he set his secretary to the work of sifting and arrangement, rank- ing his authorities in value according to their opportunities of observation and nearness to the times of which he was about to write. A careful analysis was made of the more valuable portions. The book was carefully mapped out in chapters by the author, who gave his attention to one at a time, a plan which doubtless secured the freshness and un- abated interest of the whole. As the chapters frequently included an entire section of the subject, complete in itself, the mind was not overburdened, more than in writing a review article or a short biography. Of course Mr. Pres- cott was all the time conscious of the work as a whole; but he had so disci- plined his powers as to labor with ease n.—29 and safety in parts. As the requisite manuscripts and authorities were read to him, he would occasionally dictate a note, which was written out in a large hand. He had these read to him when he had got through with his material and then had them laid before him for consultation, while he meditated over the whole. He would sit silent, ab- sorbed in this study, in his library by the hour, reflecting thus, on several days, sometimes for weeks, till he had mastered the whole in his mind. Then he would write rapidly, using his writ- ing-case ; and, as he wrote, his uncouth manuscript was copied by his secretary in a bold handwriting. When it had been read to him again and again and duly corrected, it was ready for the printer. The command of the various facul- ties necessary for such a work implied a general discipline of temper which extended into the walks of daily life. He was the kindest, most amiable of men, systematic in his charities and intercourse with his friends as in his study, a prudent economist, a libera] provider for all worthy objects. He was not one man in his books and an- other to his friends and the world; but he carried his amiability into life and no one was deceived by the graceful qualities of his pen. " In the writings of Prescott," says his brother historian, Mr. Bancroft, in his eulogy before the New York Historical Society, " his in- dividual character is never thrust on the attention of his readers; but, as should ever be the case in a true work of art, it appears only in glimpses, or as an abstraction from the whole. Yet 230 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. his personality is the source of the charm of his style; and all who knew him will say that he was himself greater and better than his writings. While his histories prove him to have felt that he owed his time to the service of mankind, everything about him marked him out to be the most beloved of companions, and the life and joy and pride of society. His personal appearance itself was sin- gularly pleasing, and won for him everywhere in advance a welcome and favor. His countenance had something that brought to mind ' the beautiful dis- dain' that hovers on that of the Apollo. But, while he was high-spirited, he was tender, and gentle, and humane. His voice was like music, and one could never hear enough of it. His cheerful- ness reached and animated all about him. He could indulge in playfulness, and could also speak earnestly and pro- foundly ; but he knew not how to be ungracious or pedantic. In truth, the charms of his conversation were une- qualled, he so united the rich stores of memory with the ease of one who is familiar with the world. In his friend- ships he was most faithful; true to them always—true to the last; never allowing his confidence to be so much as ruffled by the noisy clamors of calumny, or by rivalry, or by dif- ferences of opinion. In the manage- ment of his affairs, he was prudent and considerate: in his expenditures liberal to all about him, and to those in want ever largely generous, having an open hand, but doing good with- out observation. His affections rested early and happily on the congenial object of his choice, and the rosy light of his youth, never dimmed by a cloud, went with him all his way through life." HAND .JlMICu vr, ■ />r/t/tn. .1 '■//, ZACHARY TAYLOR. Of the modern heroes of America few stand out so simply and distinctly, so " clear in their great office," as Gene- ral Zachary Taylor. His character was of remarkable purity, distinguished by equal worth and modesty. When he suddenly became celebrated in the Mexican war, it was found that, though unknown to fame, he had deserved re- putation by his gallant conduct in 1812, and subsequently in Florida. He was known and respected in the army; but there had been no blazon of his deeds in the newspapers. He was con- tent with the performance of his duty. This was a motto and reward all suffi- cient to his mind. The type of cha- racter which distinguishes him is that of the elder worthies of the Revolution, the Schuylers, Moultries and Pinck- neys. Zachary Taylor was born in Orange county, Virginia, November 24, 1784, of a family, English in its origin, which had long been settled in the colony. His father, a man of a brave, adventur- ous turn, familiarly known among his brother pioneers as Captain Dick Tay- lor, emigrated when the child was not a year old, to the western part of the State, what was then known as "the dark and bloody ground" of Indian strife—the present Kentucky. There the boy had his training in the rude, hearty, independent pursuits of frontier life. We hear something of his school- master, the approved migratory New England pedagogue, who, when his pupil became celebrated, remembered him as "a very active and sensible boy." Of his good sense we have no doubt, for it was a quality which marked him through life; while, of his activity, there is a story related of his younger days, of his swimming across the Ohio, from the Kentucky to the Indiana shore, stemming a freezing flood in March. His entry in the army dates from that memorable period of the attack of the Shannon upon the Chesapeake, the fountain of many woes and glories in the national annals. His father, who was something of a politician, procured him the appointment from Jefferson's administration in 1808 of lieutenant in the Seventh United States infantry. He thus commenced his career in the regular service. Two years later the young man is married to Miss Margaret Smith of Maryland. Immediately upon the declaration of war with England in 1812, we find him engaged under Gen- eral Harrison in the protection of the northwestern territory against the at- tacks of the Indians. His defence, in 232 ZACHARY TAYLOR. that year, of Fort Harrison, on the Wabash, in the territory of Indiana, against an attack of the Miamis, is one of the memorable incidents of the war. This fort, built by the general whose name it bears, was situated on the upper part of the river, above the present town of Terre Haute. It was defended by pickets on three sides, with a row of barracks and a block- house at e.ther end on the fourth. Captain Taylor was left in charge of the work with a small company of men, in the words of his dispatch to General Harrison, " not more than ten or fifteen able to do a great deal, the others being either sick or convales- cent." He had warning of the threat- ened approach of a party of the Pro- phet's men—the attack belonging to that series of movements instigated by Tecumseh and his brother—and though for some time he had not considered the post tenable against a large force, he prepared to defend it to the best of his ability. On the third of September, two young men, making hay in the neighborhood of the fort, were picked off by the Indians, and the next night they came in numbers to the assault. They began by firing one of the block-houses, which endangered the whole line of barracks. Captain Tay- lor, almost disabled from a severe fever, rallied his little force of invalids to extinguish it, but the fire having communicated to a stock of whisky in the building, soon ascended to the roof, and his efforts had to be directed to the adjoining houses. The situation was desperate. In his own simple words, " Sir, what from the raging- of the fire, the yelling and howling of several hundred Indians, the cries of nine women and children, part sol- diers' and part citizens' wives, who had taken refuge in the fort, and the de- sponding of so many men, which was worse than all, I can assure you that my feelings were unpleasant." But, by his own energy, and the assistance of Surgeon Clark, the only one to aid him in the command, the roof was stripped from the next building and water from the well applied to the exposed por- tions. The line was saved, and the open space of the fire defended by a temporary breastwork. All this was done under the enemy's fire of bullets and arrows, lasting for seven hours, the flames lighting up the men at work as marks for the hostile missiles. When daylight came the fire was returned with effect, and the Indians took their departure, slaughtering the horses in the vicinity, and driving off a large stock of cattle; what with this and the stores lost in the conflagration, leaving the garrison to a diet of green corn. For this spirited defence, President Madison conferred upon Taylor the brevet rank of major. On the reorganization of the army after the peace, it was proposed to de- prive him of this rank, which he re-' sented, and would have retired to an agricultural life had not the govern- ment, by yielding, retained him in the army. He was employed in the Indian service in various ways, and in the Black Hawk war of 1832 appears in the field, taking an active part as colo- nel in the concluding battle of the Bad Axe river. His next scene of opera- ZACHARY TAYLOR. 233 tions was the Florida war, a field of greater difficulty than glory. He was ordered to this service in 1836, and in December of the following year led an expedition of about a thousand men, a few volunteers and the rest regulars, from Fort Gardiner toward Lake Oke- chobee, in the immediate neighborhood of which the enemy, some seven hun- dred strong, were encamped in a ham- mock. As the place was approached, it was found to be protected in front by a swamp three quarters of a mile in -breadth. It was "totally impassable for horses, and nearly so for foot, cov- ered with a thick growth of saw-grass five feet high, and about knee deep in mud and water." This was to be crossed to get within range of the foe, who fought from behind trees with every advantage of position. In the arrangement of the attack, the volun- teers were sent forward with directions to fall back, if necessary, while the regulars would sustain them. They advanced, were fired upon, their com- mander Colonel Gentry of Missouri slain, when they retreated. The regu- lars then made their way through the high, stiff grass, suffering heavy losses; the place of the fallen was succeeded by others, and the enemy finally driven to the lake in confusion. The action lasted from half-past twelve till three p.m. It was one of the important vic- tories of the war, it being exceedingly difficult to get the Indians to stand in battle in any numbers. Here nothing but the most tried valor could prevail against them. Colonel Taylor's loss was very heavy, both in officers, as was usual in this war, and in men. In his dispatch, he stops to express his feeling for the wounded. " Here," says he, " I trust I may be permitted to say that I experienced one of the most trying scenes of my life, and he who could have looked on it with indifference, his nerves must have been differently or- ganized from my own." , His management of this affair and general efficiency in the campaign were rewarded with the brevet rank of bri gadier-general, and shortly after with the chief command in the State, which he held till the arrival of General Macomb. General Taylor's plan was to divide the whole region into a series of military districts, each presided over by a fort or stockade, whence the tfoops might take the aggressive on occasion. He was employed in Florida two years later till 1840, when he was assigned to the command of the southwestern divi- sion of the army, and had his head- quarters at Fort Jesup, Louisiana. This brought him within the line of employ- ment in Texas, when, on the annexation of that country to the United States, it became necessary to protect her west- ern frontier from Mexican invasion. He was consequently ordered to the district in June, 1845, and immediately established his headquarters at Corpus Christi, on the west bank of the Nueces, at its mouth. There the " army of ob- servation" gradually augmented, with the progress of war alarms, to a force of nearly four thousand men, the " army of occupation," remained many months, till March of the following year, when its commander received directions to advance to the ultimate boundary, the Rio Grande. The march of seventeen 234 ZACHARY TAYLOR. days was made across the intervening desert, meeting with no opposition of consequence up to the time of arrival at the point of the river opposite Mata- moras, on the twenty-eighth of the. month. A flag-staff was immediately erected on the spot, and the American ensign raised, as the bands played the national airs "Yankee Doodle" and " The Star-spangled Banner." This vi- cinity was destined to be the scene of several formidable conflicts. We shall not trench upon the province of history to pursue the movements here with any great minuteness; but shall touch light- ly upon the main incidents of the cam- paign, which leads us over the battle- fields, of Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, to the storming of Monterey and the great struggle at Buena Vista. The place at which the army first rested was within sight of the enemy's headquarters at Matamoras, separated only by the intervening river. There having taken his station, and, as he told the Mexican authorities, in accordance with the instructions of his government, being determined to remain, the first employment of General Taylor, of course, was to provide some adequate defences—the more as he was in face of a considerable body of the foe, to whom large reinforcements, commanded by experienced generals, were already on the way, and war was no longer a matter of uncertainty. A camp was established, and the extensive work, Fort Brown, on the bank of the river, commanding the opposite town, com- menced. Point Isabel, a day's march distant in the rear, on the coast, the first harbor to the north of the Rio Grande, was the depot for supplies. General Taylor in his advance had taken possession of this place, and left a small garrison for its protection. On the twelfth of April, General Ampudia, having arrived at Matamoras with rein- forcements, and taken the command, addressed a communication to General Taylor, requiring him within twenty- four hours to retire to the Nueces while the Texas question was under discus- sion between the two governments, or accept the alternative of a resort to arms. To this the American com- mander replied, that he had been or- dered to occupy the country to the left bank of the Rio Grande till the boun- dary should be definitely settled ; that in discharging this duty, he had care- fully abstained from all acts of hostility, and that the instructions under which he was acting would not permit him to retrograde from the position he occu- pied ; and as for war, while he regretted the alternative, he should not avoid it, but " leave the responsibility with those who rashly commence hostilities." s After this the military proceedings thickened apace. The right bank of the river, above and below the camp, swarmed with the irregular troops of the enemy. Colonel Trueman Cross, as- sistant quartermaster-general, already, on the tenth, had been murdered, as he was taking his usual ride in the neigh- borhood of the camp. On the twenty- fourth a communication came from Gen- eral Arista, who had succeeded Ampudia in the command, conveying a further declaration of hostilities; and simulta- neously word reached the camp of the crossing of the enemy in considerable ZACHARY TAYLOR. 235 numbers. Captain Thornton, sent above to reconnoitre, was surprised in a plan- tation inclosure, and his little force cap- tured. Below, Point Isabel was in dan- ger of being cut off, an obvious move- ment of the enemy, which required all the vigilance of General Taylor to coun- teract. Leaving, accordingly, a sufficient garrison for the defence of Fort Brown, he set out, on the first of May, with the main body of his troops, for the relief of that important station. He arrived at the place without interruption, ac- complished his purpose in adding to its strength, and, on the seventh, invited by the signal guns of Fort Brown, which was suffering a bombardment, began his return, with about twenty- two hundred men, bringing with him two eighteen-pounders, in addition to the artillery he had taken with him, and a large train of wagous. About noon on the following day, the Mexican troops were reported in front, and were soon found occupying the road, on an open prairie skirted by a growth of chaparral. This was the field of Palo Alto, so named from the thickets rising above the general level. The Mexi- cans, six thousand in number, com- manded by General Arista, were drawn up in a single line, " artillery, infantry and cavalry placed alternately, forming a living wall more than a mile in ex- tent, of physical strength^ of steel and latent fire." * The American force was disposed by General Taylor with less regularity, but mostly in a parallel out- line. The right wing, comprising the 1 Thorpe's ««Our Army on the Rio Grande," p. 74. larger part of the force, including Ring- gold's artillery and the eighteen-pound- ers, was under the orders of Colonel Twiggs; the left was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Belknap. The train was protected by a squadron of dra- goons in the rear. Having made these arrangements, General Taylor coolly directed the men to stack their arms, march in companies, and supply them- selves with the fresh water of the ad- joining ponds in place of the brackish water with which they had been fur- nished at Point Isabel. The columns then advanced, when the engagement was commenced, shortly after two in the afternoon, by the Mexican batte- ries. This fire was promptly met by the whole American artillery, the eight- een-pounders, drawn up in the road, and Ringgold's pieces doing eminent execution. An important movement of the enemy's cavalry, fifteen hundred strong, led by General Torrejon, on the right, threatening the flank, was de- feated by the fifth infantry, the flying artillery and Captain Walker's Texan volunteers. While this was proceeding, the dry grass of the prairie took fire and swept a volume of smoke over the field, partially concealing the armies from one another. Under cover of this obscuration, the line of the enemy, which had suffered from the artillery, was reformed in the rear of its first position, and the American correspond- ingly advanced. After a pause of about an hour, the fire was reopened, the action being confined chiefly to the artillery on both sides. The superi- ority of the American fire was un- doubted ; but it was dearly purchased, 236 ZACHARY TAYLOR. by the loss of the gallant Major Ring- gold, whose name is identified with this effective arm of the service. The day closed with a brilliant attack from the enemy's right, which was met with great spirit by Captain Duncan's artil- lery. In the darkness of the evening the enemy retired to a new position, and the wearied Americans slept on their battle-field, their general spreading his blanket on the grass in the midst of the troops. The loss of the Mexicans was much heavier than that of our own forces; the commander of the former reporting two hundred and fifty-two killed,' wounded and missing, while General Taylor's dispatch numbers only seven killed, including three officers, and thirty-nine wounded—an apparent- ly small number of either army, consi- dering the strength on both sides of the artillery and the skill with which it was served on a level plain. • The next day brought the battle of Resaca de la Palma. Early in the morning the enemy had retired toward Matamoras, to a strong position at a ravine, crossed by the road and sur- rounded by a thick growth of chaparral. The approach on the highway was de- fended by a strongly posted force of ar- tillery. Thither the foe were pursued by General Taylor, who, spite of the supe- riority of numbers confronting him, ex- pressed his determination to be at Fort Brown before night. Having provided for the safety of the supply-train, he commenced the attack about three in the afternoon, by advancing a large body of skirmishers and the battery of Lieutenant Ridgely. The latter took up a position on the road. Owing to the nature of the ground, the engage- ment which ensued was of an entirely different character from that of the preceding day. The enemy were shel- tered by the ravine on both its sides. The growth in front, beside the pro- tection of the rising ground, impeded the free play of the American artil- lery. As the enemy's cannon com- manded the only accessible approach by the road, it became evident to Gen- eral Taylor, after sending forward his infantry, that however the latter might discharge their duty—and they did make, in his own language, " resistless progress"—nothing decisive could be accomplished till that fire was silenced. He consequently sent to the rear for the gallant Captain May and his dra- goons, and committed to them the work. " You must charge the enemies' batte- ries, and take them," was the general's language. " I will do it," was May's response. And, ardent as the onset of the six hundred at Balaclava, " into the jaws of death," but not so purposeless, sped the brave captain and his troop. Waiting a few moments for Ridgely at his battery, three hundred yards dis- tant, to draw the fire of the enemy's artillery, he galloped furiously over the road, followed by his company, to re- ceive the fire of the inner battery, which levelled at one discharge eighteen horses and seven men of his troop, Lieutenant Inge, one of the number, at his side. But the battery was swept of its de- fenders; and though May, unsupported by infantry, exposed as he was to a shower of grape and musketry, was compelled to retire^he fought his way out of the mass of the foe, bringing ZACHARY TAYLOR. 237 with him to the camp an eminent prisoner of war, General La Vega, a brave officer, whom he had found the last at the guns, rallying his flying sol- diers to their duty. Infantry were meanwhile ordered up, and the advant- age of the charge secured in driving the enemy from their artillery on the left. On the right a breastwork was stormed, its gun taken, and other successes achiev- ed, completing the rout in this quarter, including the capture of the general's camp, with all his official correspond- ence. The artillery battalion left to guard the train, with other forces, were now ordered in pursuit, and the flying army was driven to the river, where many perished in the attempt to escape. " In the camp of the army," says an in- teresting narrator of these scenes, " were found the preparations for a great festi- val, no doubt to follow the expected victory. The camp-kettles were sim- mering over the fires, filled with savory viands, off of which our troops made a plentiful evening meal. In the road were carcasses of half-skinned oxen. The hangers-on of the camp, while the battle was raging, were busy in their feast-preparing work, unconscious of dangers, when, on an instant, a sudden panic must have seized them, and they fled, leaving their half-completed la- bors to be consummated by our own troops."1 Seventeen hundred was the number of General Taylor's force engaged with the Mexicans. His loss was three offi- cers, Lieutenants Inge, Cochrane and Chadbourne, and thirty-six men killed; ' Thorpe's "Our Army on the Ric Grande," p. 104. n.—30 twelve officers and seventy men wound- ed. General Taylor, in his dispatch, estimated the Mexican loss, killed, wounded and missing, during the two days, at not less than one thousand men. In a dispatch from the field that night, he wrote with characteristic sim- plicity: " The affair of to-day may be regarded as a proper supplement to the cannonade of yesterday; and the two taken together exhibit the coolness and gallantry of our officers and men in the most favorable light. All have done their duty, and done it nobly." A few days, in a fuller report, he added: " Our victory has been decisive. A small force has overcome immense odds of the best troops that Mexico can furnish—veteran regiments, perfectly equipped and appointed. Eight pieces of artillery, several colors and stand- ards, a great number of prisoners, in- cluding fourteen officers, and a large amount of baggage and public property, have fallen into our hands." This decided success established the fortunes of General Taylor's Mexican campaign. Everything had been put to the hazard, and everything gained. The force which he commanded, large enough for resistance, too small, appa- rently, for conquest, invited the attack of the superior hosts. Victory ap- peared an easy matter to the Mexican general, who had the choice of the ground, and who was enabled to divide the little American army between the field and the fort. His supplies were at hand in a considerable city with a chain of'towns in its rear, reaching into the heart of the countiy. He had made every calculation for success. While he 238 ZACHARY TAYLOR. was attacking the Americans on their march by a well-planned military move- ment, the batteries of Matamoras were at work on Fort Brown. One thing only was wanting to his forces, the des- perate courage for an assault. If this nerve of the bayonet had been supplied, Arista might, with his numbers and resources, have done with ease what Jackson and his defenders at New Or- leans so bravely accomplished, and swept his enemies into the sea. But he had other stuff in his ranks. If the Mexicans at the outset were naturally confident of success, the Ame- ricans at home trembled for the fate of General Taylor's expedition, and the moral effect of his victory, in the same proportion, disheartened the one and elevated the other. The brave troops on the Rio Grande, it was felt, had re- paired the over confidence of the ad- ministration at Washington. General Taylor had achieved not only a military success, but he had rescued the country from the risk of disgrace. Nothing could have been better contrived than the unintentional conduct of the go- vernment, for the creation of a hero. The American general was placed in a position where the greatest glory was to be reached with the smallest com- mand. The Mexican army was completely disorganized at Matamoras. Their can- nonading of Fort Brown had ceased with the defeat of their army, and little was to be thought of but surrender. General Taylor was soon on hand to hasten the movement. After the duty to the dead and wounded had been performed, he proceeded to Point Isa- bel to confer with Commodore Conner, who had brought up his fleet to the assistance of the imperilled little army. The story is, that the etiquette of this meeting severely taxed the resources of the brave general's wardrobe. Long accustomed to frontier warfare and pro- tracted Indian campaigns, where there was more rough labor to be performed than military pomp to be indulged, Old Zach, as he was affectionately and fami- liarly called, had adapted his dress to the exigency of the climate and service. His linen roundabout was far better known in the camp than his uniform. Thinking, however, that something was due from the commander-in-chief of the army to the head of the navy, who was understood to be punctilious in dress, he painfully arrayed himself in the re- gulation coat, fished from the depths of his chest; while the gallant commodore, knowing the habits of the general, in an equally generous spirit of concession, clothed himself for the interview in a simple suit of drilling. After this, it is said, Old Zach returned more sedu- lously than ever to his wonted simpli- city of attire. All his habits, indeed, partook of the same plain convenience. Hardy and unostentatious in his mode of living, he was accustomed to the rough fare of the camp and an unpre- tending tent sufficed for the dignity of his headquarters. The proper arrangements having been made at Point Isabel, General Taylor hastened again to the camp over a road no longer interrupted by Arista and his host. His next movement was to take possession of Matamoras, peaceably if he could, forcibly if he must. Upon ZACHARY TAYLOR. 239 his making his preparations for the latter, the discreet course appeared preferable to the Mexicans, and the toAvn was given up, on the eighteenth of the month, to the army of occupa- tion. Arista had fled, with such of his troops as were in a condition to travel, leaving the place to the hostilities of the Americans, which proved much kinder than the tender mercies of the defenders. The summer was passed by General Taylor at Matamoras, receiving the recruits, who, summoned by the first signal of danger, were now pouring to the Rio Grande. The means of ad- vance had also to be collected, and the force organized to pursue the enemy in the interior. Monterey to the west, at the foot of the Sierra Madre, where General Ampudia, who had succeeded Arista in the command, had established himself with a considerable body of troops, was the first object of attack. Sending forward his forces by the Rio Grande to Camargo, General Taylor thence pursued his way across the desert, reaching the San Juan, in the immediate neighborhood of Monterey, on the nineteenth of September. From that moment the brave and toilsome operations of the attack, which was con- tinued for Ave days, may be said to have commenced. The town, thoroughly ca- pable of defence, was manned by a gar- rison of ten thousand men, more than two-thirds of whom were regular troops, with a defence of forty-two pieces of cannon; its outworks were important, and the most extensive preparations of barricades and batteries were made within. The entire force General Tay- lor brought against it, numbered six thousand, six hundred and seventy-five. He had no siege train, which might be thought indispensable to the work he was about to undertake, and an artillery j force of only one ten-inch mortar, two I twenty-four pounder howitzers, and i four light field batteries of four guns I each. The first observation of the town convinced General Taylor that it might be turned on its westerly side, where the only means of escape to its occupants lay in the road to Saltillo. There were important detached works on that side, but the main defences were in the citadel on the north, the river and a series of redoubts on the southerly and easterly approaches. The reConnaisance was made after General Taylor's arrival on the nineteenth ; on the twentieth, General Worth moved with his command toward the Saltillo road to carry out the plan of the com- mander-in-chief. The latter himself directed the proceedings on the east. The main points, and they were highly important ones, accomplished by Gene- ral Worth on that day of hard fighting, the twenty-first, were the occupation of the road, and the storming of the works at the heights, adjacent to the city on the west. Turning to General Taylor's special command, we find him at the same time directing an attack on the opposite side of the town, which was conducted with such gallantry, in the face of a murderous cross-fire from the forts tlmt; the streets of the city were gained, and the roof of one of its buildings taken advantage of to assail with musketry the defenders of the 240 ZACHARY TAYLOR. fort commanding this approach, which was also attacked from the outer side. Under this combination the fort fell. It was the important success of the day. In General Taylor's words, "the main object proposed in the morning had been effected. A powerful diver- sion had been made to favor the opera- tions of the second division (General Worth's); one of the enemy's advanced works had been carried, and we now had a strong foothold in the town." The loss in achieving this result, may indicate the gallantry with which it was accomplished. The number killed and wounded, in these operations in the lower part of the city that day, was three hundred and ninety-four. The next, the twenty-second, saw the com- pletion of General Worth's design in the capture of the Bishop's Palace on Independence Hill, that work being commanded by the position he had stormed the day before. General Tay- lor employed the day in relieving his troops who had passed the night on the lower side of the town, and main- taining his advantages in that quarter. It was now evident that the city, being commanded from either end, must in due time surrender. The military event of the twenty-third, the third great day of the siege, was the advance into the town of the volunteers under Gen- erals Quitman and Henderson, sup- ported by Captain Bragg's battery. From house to house, from square to square, the advance against the strong barriers was gained by musketry from the roofs, by grape-shot in the streets, to a position but a single square dis- tant from the principal plaza, where the enemy's force was mainly concen- trated. A similar advance was made into the city from the opposite side by General Worth. The work of the next day, had it been necessary to continue the assault, would hav"e been a last, short, bloody, decisive struggle. For tunately, it was spared by a capitula tion. The outcries of the townspeople, no less than the necessities of the gar- rison, compelled the surrender. On the morning of the twenty-fourth, a communication was received by Gene- ral Taylor from General Ampudia, stating that having madex the defence of which he thought the city suscepti- ble, he had "fulfilled his duty, and satisfied that military honor which, in a certain manner, is common to all armies of the civilized world." To continue the defence, he said, would only be further to distress the pop- ulation which had suffered enough already: he, therefore, proposed to evacuate the city and fort, carrying with him the personnel and materiel of war. In answer to this, a complete surrender of the town and garrison as prisoners of war was demanded; but such surrender; it was added, would be upon terms recognizing by their libe- rality " the gallant defence of the place, creditable alike to the Mexican troops and nation." The hour of twelve was appointed to determine the question. At that time the two chiefs met to arrange the terms of surrender. Gen- eral Ampudia, not satisfied with the proposition offered, insisted upon his original conditions; and General Tay- ZACHARY TAYLOR. 241 lor, who had made up his mind, was in consequence on the point of breaking up the conference, when a suggestion was offered and reluctantly accepted by him, to refer the negotiation to a body of commissioners on both sides. General Worth, General Henderson, and Colonel Jefferson Davis acted for the Americans. With some difficulty the terms were arranged. The town and citadel, with the arms and muni- tions of war were surrendered, the Mexican forces to retire—the officers with their side arms, the cavalry with their arms and accoutrements, the artil- lery with one field battery—within seven days beyond the line formed by the pass of Linconada, the city of Linares and San Fernando de Preras; and an armistice of eight weeks to be entered upon. The Mexican flag, when struck at the citadel, was to be saluted by its own battery. That ceremony was peiformed on the morning of the twenty-fifth. The American flag was unfolded, and the Mexican troops took their departure. It was a brilliant suc- cess in the taking of a town. Its cost as summed up by General Taylor in his dispatch, was twelve officers and one hundred and eight men killed; thirty-one officers and three hundred and thirty-seven men wounded. It was thought by the government at Washington that too favorable terms had been allowed the enemy in the capitulation, that their surrender should have been unconditional, and that the armistice should not have been granted. But those who made the negotiation were governed by sound motives, both of policy and humanity. They might, indeed, have completed the conquest at the plaza and taken the citadel; but it would have been at an enormous cost of life, both to victors and vanquished; much property would have been de stroyed which was saved by the nego- tiation ; nor had General Taylor a force sufficient to guard all the avenues of escape to so great a body of men. Moreover, the prospect of peace was urged by the Mexican General in con- sequence of the return of Santa Anna, which had been more than winked at, with this view, by the American gov- ernment itself, which had indeed pre- viously proffered peace negotiations. As for the armistice, the little army at Monterey was at any rate unable to move for some time, until reinforce- ments should arrive, upon any further considerable expedition into the inte- rior. It had but ten days' rations at the time of the capitulation, and had been all along deficient in wagons. So that, on many grounds, the negotiation of General Taylor was to be justified. These military successes, however brilliant as they were, were unproduc- tive of the desirable result of "con- quering a peace" from the enemy. The very humiliation which they in- flicted, only roused the spirit of the country to greater resistance, and what- ever peace intentions General Santa Anna, now placed at the head of affairs, had when he landed at Vera Cruz, he was clearly unable to carry them out while the Americans were thus constantly victorious. For the purposes of the war, it might have been good policy of the invaders to have suffered a defeat, to humor na- 242 ZACHARY TAYLOR. tional pride, and smooth the way to negotiation and concession. Defeat was not, however, a word to be found in the military vocabulary of Old Zach. He had an indomitable, unreasoning soldier's logic, which led him by a very short path to one single conclusion, that victory was the business of war; and well or ill provided with such resources as he had, in the face of whatever obstacles might be in the way, he went straight forward to that result. He made no noisy demonstrations, but took his ground boldly and fought to the end. His last battle was to crown the whole. The circumstances under which the engagement at Buena Vista was fought, render it the most memorable of the whole campaign. The government at Washington having come to the con- elusion that their system of border attack, however well pursued, would not end the war, determined to strike at the heart of the country, its capital, by its great avenue of approach, the line of Vera Cruz. In the month of November, General Scott was ordered to the Gulf of Mexico to take such measures, as in his judgment he might think proper, to carry the resolution into effect. General Taylor, in this arrangement, was to be left on the Rio Grande, with a force barely sufficient to maintain a defensive position, while he yielded to Scott, for his more bril- liant service, the best part of his troops, the tried regulars who had fought with him from Corpus Christi along the line of battles to Monterey. General Scott arrived at the Rio Grande about the first of January, 1847, and began to collect the forces for his expedition. The important divisions of General Worth, Twiggs, Quitman, and other choice troops, artillery and volunteers, were stripped from General Taylor's command, and his plan of operations' at Victoria and other advanced places in the interior entirely broken up. Nothing further was expected of him than to defend himself at Monterey, should Santa Anna, who was in great force at San Luis Potosi, extend his movements in that direction. The Mexican General, who had become aware of the plans of his foe by an intercepted dispatch, was thought more likely to turn his attention to the intended landing at Vera Cruz. He determined, however, to strike a blow with his large army, which seemed quite sufficient to sweep every Ameri- can from the neighborhood of the Rio Grande. He accordingly marched with his twenty thousand men toward the position, in the vicinity of Saltillo, of General Taylor and his bands of volun- teers. Among the latter was the new and important command of General Wool, which had just reached the scene of action from an overland march through Texas. To this officer belongs the credit of the selection of the pass where the Americans so well defended themselves: it was his fortune, being left in command at the point, to open the battle; and to him were specially entrusted some of the most important movements of the day. It was an admirably chosen ground for defence, a naiTow valley enclosed on either hand by lofty mountains, with seamed ZACHARY TAYLOR. 243 and broken ground, with the passage on the road additionally protected by a river course and deep ravine at its side. The best naturally guarded ground of the whole, where the mountain on one side and the ravine on the other ap- proached nearest each other, the Pass of Angostura, was that taken for the American stand. There, on the morn- ing of the twenty-second of February, Washington's birthday, as the enemy made his appearance, the road was defended by a battery of eight guns, supported on either hand by companies of infantry. The remaining troops were placed, in advantageous positions, on a plateau and amidst the ravines, across the whole breadth of the valley. These dispositions were made by Gene- ral Wool, General Taylor having been during the night at Saltillo, to provide against a threatened attack in that quarter. He presently came up, bring- ing with him additional troops, and assumed the command. At eleven o'clock, a summons was received from Santa Anna to surrender. "You are surrounded," was the lan- guage of this communication, "by twenty thousand men, and cannot, in any human probability, avoid suffering a rout and being cut to pieces with your troops; but as you deserve con- sideration and particular esteem, I wish to save you from a catastrophe, and for that purpose give you this notice, in order that you may surrender at dis- cretion, under the assurance that you will be treated with the consideration belonging to the Mexican character, to which end you will be granted an hour's time to make up your mind, to commence from the moment when my flag of truce arrives in your camp;" to all which considerate attention, Za- chary Taylor sent the following brief sentence—" Sir: In reply to your note of this date, summoning me to sur- render my forces at discretion, I beg leave to say that I decline acceding to your request." So the battle was in- augurated. There was some skirmish- ing in the afternoon, as the Mexicans felt their way preparatory to the action of the twenty-third. General Taylor again passed the night at Saltillo, his presence there being necessary to as- sure the defence of the place which was now more seriously threatened. Before his return to the pass, the ene- my, at daylight, had commenced their attack. It was made with great force, and with varying success. There was danger of the American position being completely turned, but by a series of skillful manoeuvres, admirably exe- cuted, and sustained by the artillery and companies of volunteers, the ene- my was driven back. An incident occurred in this re- pulse, which for its bearing upon the personal character of General Tay- lor, may be separated from the mass of details of this engagement lyin^ before us. "It was during this re- treat," says Mr. Dawson in his account of the action, "that two thousand Mexicans, anxious to escape the fire in their rear, as well as a destructive fire on their flank from the troops on the plateau, had sought shelter in the recesses of the mountains, and were huddled together in a helpless, disor- derly mass. At this moment the good- 244 ZACHARY TAYLOR ness of General Taylor's heart inter- ceded in their behalf, notwithstanding they were enemies; and he hesitated before sacrificing a single life—even that of an enemy—unnecessarily. With the merciful desire of saving life, there- fore, he dispatched Lieutenant Critten- den, his aid-de-camp, with a flag, and demanded the surrender of the party; but instead of complying with the demand, the Mexicans availed them- selves of the opportunity afforded them, and marched out of the gorge, while the troops under General Wool, under orders from General Taylor, silently looked on, without being permitted to fire a shot, or take a step to prevent their escape."1 One last effort was left to be di- rected by Santa Anna himself. Ral- lying his forces for an overwhelm- ing attack on the central plateau, he would have gained that important position had he not been met by the American artillery, the Mississippi rifles, and other companies suddenly brought into position against him. It was on this occasion that General Tay- lor, as the fortune of the day stood in the balance, coolly uttered his memora- ble advice to his artillerist, " A little more grape, Captain Bragg!" Let him tell the story in the usual simple words of his own dispatch, where we may be sure we shall hear nothing of this dra- matic point. "The moment was most critical. Captain O'Brien, with two pieces, had sustained the heavy charge to the last, and was finally obliged to leave his guns on the field—his infantry 1 Battles of the United States, II. 496. support being entirely routed. Cap tain Bragg, who had just arrived from the left, was ordered at once into bat tery. Without any infantry to support him, and at the imminent risk of losing his guns, this officer came rapidly into action, the Mexican line being but a few yards from the muzzle of his pieces. The first discharge of canister caused the enemy to hesitate; the second and third drove him back in disorder and saved the day." There were other ser- vices rendered in the final repulse, but for them and the merits of particular officers and companies in the battle, we must refer the reader to the various dispatches and military narratives of the day. Let one brief passage from General Taylor's narrative declare the spirit which ruled the gallant bands of volun- teers, nearly all for the first time under fire on that occasion. "No further attempt," he writes in his official ac- count, "was made by the enemy to force our position, and the approach of night gave an opportunity to pay pro- per attention to the wounded, and also to refresh the soldiers, who had been exhausted by incessant watchfulness and combat. Though the night was severely cold, the troops were compelled for the most to bivouac without fires, expecting that morning would renew the conflict. During the night the wound- ed were removed to Saltillo, and every preparation made to receive the enemy, should he again attack our position." The enemy, however, made no such attempt. Leaving his wounded on the way, he made good his retreat to San Luis Potosi. The few figures with ZACHARY TAYLOR. 245 which the stories of all battles end will tell better than aught else the heroism of the brave encounter. The American force engaged was three hundred and thirty-four officers and four thousand four hundred and twenty-five men, of which two squadrons of cavalry and three batteries of light artillery, making not more than four hundred and fifty- three men, composed the only force of regular troops. The Mexican forces, we have seen stated by Santa Anna himself, at twenty thousand, an esti- mate confirmed by all subsequent in- formation. The American loss was two hundred and sixty-seven killed, four hundred and fifty-six wounded and twenty-three missing. The Mexican loss was computed by General Taylor at between fifteen hundred and two thousand. At least five hundred killed were left on the field of battle. Thus closed General Taylor's connec- tion with the active operations of the Mexican War. He was for some time engaged in camp duties, when he re- quested leave of absence to attend to the duties of his plantations on the Mississippi. His home was at Baton Rouge, Louisiana, the residence also of his estimable son-in-law the late Colonel Bliss, a member of his staff during his Mexican campaigns. The battle of Buena Vista, was, as we have seen, fought at the end of February, 1847. Just two years from that time, March 4,1849, its brave and modest commander was installed as President of the United States at Wash- ington. The two events may safely be put in conjunction, for one proceeded directly out of the other. General Tay- n.—31 lor, as Senator Benton remarked, was the first President elected upon a repu- tation purely military. He had been in the army from his youth, and, ac- cording to the custom of officers of the army, had not even voted at an elec- tion. He was selected, of course, on account of his availability; yet it was an availability which did not rest alto- gether on his purely military character. " It will be a great mistake," said Dan- iel Webster to the Senate, " to suppose that he owed his advancement to high civil trust, or his great acceptableness with the people to military talent or ability alone. Associated with the highest admiration for those qualities possessed by him, there was spread throughout the community a high de- gree of confidence and faith in his in- tegrity, and honor, and uprightness as a man. I believe he was especially regarded as both a firm and a mild man in the exercise of authority; and I have observed more than once, in this and in other popular governments, that the prevalent motive with the masses of mankind for conferring high honors on individuals is a confidence in their mildness, their paternal, protecting, pru- dent and safe character." This was well said. Every word is in harmony with the popular appreciation of Gen- eral Taylor; and there are doubtless many living in Mexico, as well as in his own country, who would respond to the sentiment. The soldier who could pause in the midst of such a day as that of Buena Vista to arrest the tide of slaughter, when slaughter was self-pre- servation, with the deed of mercy we have recorded, must be entitled to no 246 ZACHARY TAYLOR. common meed of praise on the ground of humanity. But something more was added by his eminent eulogist. "I suppose," said Mr. Webster, " that no case ever happened, in the very best days of the Roman republic, when a man found himself clothed with the highest authority in the state under circumstances more repelling all suspi- cion of personal application, of pur- suing any crooked path in politics, or of having been actuated by sinister views and purposes, than in the case of this worthy, and eminent, and distin- guished, and good man."1 The circumstance that Mr. Webster was himself a candidate before the Whig convention, which nominated General Taylor for the Presidency, adds weight to these assertions. Mr. Cass was the opposing democratic candidate. The vote of the electors was one hun- dred and sixty-three to one hundred and twenty-seven. Of the qualities of his short admi- nistration of the office, let a member of the party opposed to his election speak. The late Senator Benton says: " His brief career showed no deficiency of political wisdom for want of previous 1 Remarks in the Senate on the death of General Tay- lor.—Webster's Works, p. 409. political training. He came into the administration at a time of great diffi- culty, and acted up to the emergency of his position. . . . His death was a public calamity. No man could have been more devoted to the Union, or more opposed to the slavery agitation; and his position as a Southern man, and a slaveholder—his military repu- tation and his election by a majority of the people and of the States—would have given him a power in the settle- ment of these questions which no Pre- sident without these qualifications could have possessed. In the political divi- sion he classed with the Whig party; but his administration, as far as it went, was applauded by the democracy, and promised to be so to the end of his offi- cial term. Dying at the head of the government, a national lamentation be- wailed his departure from life and power, and embalmed his memory in the affections of his country."1 General Taylor died at Washington, at the Presidential mansion, July 9, 1850, of a fever contracted by exposure to the intense heat of the sun, in attend- ance upon the ceremonies of the Day of Independence. 1 Benton's Thirty Tears View, II. T65-6. ~>y (X~ 3 rfc- tJ"~ JAMES KNOX POLK. The eleventh President of the United States was born in Mecklenburg county, North Carolina, in the vicinity of the county town of Charlotte, November 2, 1795. He was of Scoto-Irish descent, the name being said to have been ori- ginally Pollock in Scotland. Robert Polk, the first American ancestor of the family, emigrated from Ireland about the middle of the eighteenth century. He came to Maryland, and was temporarily established, with his children, on the eastern shore; thence his sons removed first to the interior of Pennsylvania, and afterward to the more permanent settlement in North Carolina. In this frontier district, in the western part of the State, border- ing on South Carolina, in the region bounded by the parallel streams of the Yadkin and the Catawba, the three sons of Thomas Polk, Thomas, Ezekiel and Charles, found a home, in the midst of a sturdy, independent popula- tion, who carried the virtues of order, sobriety, and secular and religious edu- cation to the borders of what was then the Indian wilderness. Two of these brothers, Thomas and Ezekiel, became distinguished in the early annals of the Revolution, in those measures of pro- test and resistance which placed North Carolina in the foremost rank of State patriotism. Thomas Polk was put for- ward as the leader of these indepen- dent mountaineers. He was colonel of the militia, and had been a surveyor and member of the colonial assembly. It was at his call that a convention of the citizens of the region, delegates of the militia districts, assembled at Char- lotte on the 19th of May, 1775, to deliberate on the crisis at hand. While they were assembled, it is said, news was brought by a post rider of the bloody day at Lexington. The meet- ing was stimulated to action, and ex- pressed its resolve in the famous Mecklenburgh Declaration of Indepen- dence, which curiously anticipated, in its spirit and even a portion of its lan- guage, the words of the great national instrument from the pen of Jefferson. Thomas Polk was a master-spirit in these transactions. His nephew Samuel, son of Ezekiel, was the father of the future President. He was a farmer " of unassuming pre- tensions, but of enterprising character." His'wife, who gave her family name to her son, was the daughter of James Knox, who became captain in the military service of the Revolution. In 1806, when their son James was about eleven years old, the family, tempted by the accounts of western 247 248 JAMES KNOX POLK. lands, removed across the mountains into the adjoining state of Tennessee, and settled on the banks of Duck liver. In this region, the boyhood of the future President was passed in the hardy pursuits of a farmer's life, spent in subduing the land to the pur- poses of cultivation. His health, how- ever, was not robust, and his father, thinking perhaps that less demand would be made upon his physical powers, procured him employment at first with a store-keeper. The occupa- tion was not to the youth's taste; he was of a reflective turn, fond of read- ing, and his mind had been led to study by witnessing his father's occu- pations as a surveyor. He desired to leave merchandize—his wish was grant. ed—and at the age of eighteen, he applied himself regularly to study, at first under the care of the Rev. Dr. Hen- derson, and afterward at the academy of Murfreesborough in the State, in charge of Mr. Samuel P. Black, a man of valuable classical acquirements. With these advantages and diligent applica- tion, the pupil in 1815 entered the Sophomore Class of the University of North Carolina, at Chapel Hill. He distinguished himself in his col- lege course by his punctual, earnest ap- plication and proficiency in his studies. He became the foremost scholar both in mathematics, for which he had a natu- ral liking, and in the classics. He graduated in 1818 with the highest honors, delivering the Latin salutatory oration. He was then twenty-three, some two or three years older than the great majority of the crowd who are sent out annually as bachelors of arts; but the later preparation was doubt- less an advantage to him in the greater maturity of his powers. Our college studies, in fact, would be far better pursued by older students, more tho- roughly grounded in the introductory apprenticeship to learning. The work of education, if accomplished at all, is in most cases, we are persuaded, to be begun over again by the pupil .himself after the so called university course is ended. Mr. Polk carried his duties with him into active life; they were always self-imposed, and were with him a living reality. After taking his degree, though ill health pleaded for a relaxation from his diligent application to books, we find him soon commencing the study of the law with Felix Grundy, the eminent legal pioneer of the west, then established in the fullness of his pro- fessional career at Nashville, with the additional eclat of successful statesman- ship at Washington, as a member of the committee of Foreign Relations in the war administration of Madison. Association with such a preceptor, a man of vigorous mind, who had achieved distinction by the force of his own cha- racter, must doubtless have exercised a leading influence upon a young man who had already given proof of his triumph over ordinarily adverse for- tunes. Pursuing his legal studies for two years, he was in 1820 admitted to the bar, and returned from Nashville to pursue the profession in the region of his home at Columbia. His success. based upon his thorough acquisitions and the influence of his family associa- tions, for there were numerous emi- JAMES KNOX POLK. 249 grants of his stock to the district, was so rapid that in less than a year he was acknowledged as a leading practitioner. He had already acquired fame and pro- fit at the bar, when, in 1823, he had his first introduction to political life, or rather office, as a member from his county of Maury in the State legisla- ture. A lawyer in the west at that time, and the remark may be applied more or less to the present day, was of necessity something of a politician, and we hear of Mr. Polk assisting the tradi- tionary tendencies and conduct of his family by his earnest advocacy of the democratic policy. He was often called upon to address political gatherings, and acquitted himself, we are told, with credit and favor by a plain use of argument, without resort to the taudry and meretricious ornaments in which pop alar speakers so often feel themselves called upon to indulge. The success, in fact, of his life was due to quite other qualities—to his simple, sincere, straightforward charac- ter, and the confidence those who knew him derived from his manners and conduct. Mr. Polk remained two years in the Tennessee legislature, in the course of which he had the opportunity of ren- dering important service to his early friend, Andrew Jackson, in his elec- tion to the senate of the United States. Mr. Polk, at this time, was married to the daughter of Joel Chil- dress, a merchant of Tennessee, a lady whose virtues and graces, in public and private life, in the prominent social theatre at Washington, are grate- fully held in esteem by the nation. In 1825, Mr. Polk was elected a member of congress, took his seat in December, and was continued a member of that body for fourteen years. No one du- ring this period was more completely identified with its proceedings. It embraced "the vigorous period of his life, from thirty to forty-four. He ap- peared on the floor of the House of Representatives, the representative, in all their integrity and severity, of the creed of strict construction which had grown out of the doctrines of the old Republican Jeffersonian party. He was opposed to the recharter of the Bank of the United States, to a protective tariff, to wasteful expenditures in inter- nal improvements; he advocated econo- my in the government. In all questions arising from the discussions, he was a zealous, persistent supporter of his party. In 1827, he was placed on the committee of foreign affairs; and jlu- ring the administration of General Jackson, as head of the committee of ways and means, rendered the Presi- dent the most important assistance in his vigorously conducted war against the United States Bank. His other more prominent position in the House was as speaker, to which he was elected at the opening of the session in 1835, and again at the session of 1837, with the conclusion of which he retired from congress, declining a reelection. The four years, during which he pre- sided over the deliberations of the House, were marked by strong political excitement, and the duties of the office had grown, with the increase of con- gress, to be of a more arduous charac- ter. Through all discussions, however, 250 JAMES KNOX POLK. Mr. Polk pursued his steady, calm, in- flexible course, always present, the most punctual man in the House, task- ing his powers, it seemed to the stranger looking on the excited scene, beyond his strength, educing order out of chaos, dividing the knotty questions of debate with the skill and impartiality of an acute mind well practised in parlia- mentary logic. The importance of the position has been more than once shown, since Mr. Polk's discharge of the office, in the protracted struggles at the commencement of new sessions of the House in the equal division of parties. It must always be regarded as a most distinguishing honor for any man, and the ability and energy of Mr. Polk will be honorably remembered in its annals. That Mr. Polk himself held a no less high sense of the dignity of his position may be gathered from the language in which he took leave of the House on the adjournment of that body in 1839. His brief review of his duties presents an extraordinary picture of duty faith- fully performed and as honorably ap- preciated. " When I look back to the period," was his language, " when I first took my seat in this House, and then look around me for those who were at that time my associates here, I find but few, very few, remaining. But five members who were here with me four- teen years ago, continue to be members of this body. My service here has been constant and laborious. I can perhaps say what but what few others, if any, can, that I have not failed to attend the daily sittings of this House a single day since I have been a member of it, save on a single occasion, when pre vented for a short time by indisposi- tion. In my intercourse with the mem- bers of this body, when I occupied a place upon the floor, though occasion- ally engaged in debates upon interest- ing public questions and of an exciting character, it is a source of unmingled gratification to me to recur to the fact, that on no occasion was there the slightest personal or unpleasant colli- sion with any of its members. Main- taining, and at all times expressing, my own opinions firmly, the same right was fully conceded to others. For four years past, the station I have occupied, and a sense of propriety, in the divided and unusually exciting state of public opinion and feeling, which has existed both in this House and the country, have precluded me from participating in your debates. Other duties were assigned me. " The high office of Speaker, to which it has been twice the pleasure of the House to elevate me, has been at all times one of labor and high responsi- bility. It has been made my duty to decide more questions of parliamentary law and order, many of them of a com- plex and difficult character, arising often in the midst of high excitement, in the course of our proceedings, than had been decided, it is believed, by all my predecessors, from the foundation of the government. This House has uniformly sustained me, without dis- tinction of the political parties of which it has been composed. I return them my thanks for their constant support in the discharge of the duties I have had to perform. ... I trust this l JAMES KNOX POLK. 251 high office may in future times be filled, as doubtless it will be, by abler men. It cannot, I know, be filled by any one who will devote himself with more zeal and untiring industry to do his whole duty, than I have done." Mr. Polk had hardly reached his home in Tennessee after his retirement from Congress, when he engaged in a diligent canvassing of the State as a can- didate for governor at the approaching election. He was untiring in his devo- tion to his object, and so successful was his energy, that he gained the election over his opponent, the incumbent of the office. His inaugural address, deli- vered at Nashville in October, 1839, a remarkably clear and well-written com- position, reviewed the leading distinc- tive principles of his party—the strict interpretation of the Constitution, in reference to express and implied pow- ers ; the unconstitutionality and dangers of a national bank; the evil of a surplus Federal revenue; the inviolability of slavery by Congress in the slave-hold- ing States, and other well known posi- tions. In his own State he encouraged and assisted a " well regulated system of internal improvement." His admi- nistration was generally well received; but when the time came for reelection, he shared the fortunes of his party and suffered a defeat. It was the moment of the popular whig triumph of Gene- ral Harrison; two years later his rival, Governor James C. Jones, was again successful in the contest. The next turn of the political wheel carried ex-Governor Polk to the Presi- dency. A decided letter, written by him in favor of the annexation of Texas, brought him favorably before the Bal- timore Convention of May, 1844, when that nominating body had exhausted the roll of prior candidates. On the ninth ballot, after Van Buren, Cass and others had been set aside, he received the requisite two-thirds vote and be- came the candidate of the party. In accepting the nomination, he avowed his intention, in the event of his elec- tion, not to be a candidate for a second term. The contest between the two tickets, Polk and Dallas, Clay and Frelinghuysen, resulted in the electoral college in a majority for the former ticket of sixty-five. Fifteen States voted for Polk; eleven, and among them Ten- nessee, by a small majority, for Clay. The successful candidate was duly in- augurated at Washington in March, 1845. The leading measures, or rather the chief events, of Polk's administration of the Presidency were the adjustment of the Oregon question with England, and the War with Mexico. In the former he took ground in his inaugural and annual message, in accordance with the resolutions of the Baltimore nominating: convention, in favor of the claim to the whole of the territory, a position which, while maintaining his view of the matter, he in a measure yielded to the will of the Senate in their accept- ance of the terms of the British govern- ment. The treaty was signed in June, 1846. A month before this, Congress officially recognized, by its declaration, the existence of war with Mexico. Of the events of that war, of which Presi- dent Polk must be considered the in- fluential agent, it is not necessary here 252 JAMES KNOX POLK. to speak in detail. Its progress was, upon the whole, so honorable to the arms of the country, as victory after victory was chronicled in the move- ments of the great campaigns of Taylor and Scott, and the conduct of the war, at its termination, was so moderate in imposing, the conditions of peace at an early moment, that much of the oppo- sition to its commencement was happily neutralized. The immediate settlement of California, and its brilliant progress in civilization, under the stimulus of the gold discovery, have also thrown a halo over the war. Its ulterior effects are yet to be read in history; but, what- ever be the result, the date of the acqui- sition of so wide a region of territory bordering upon the great ocean of the West, and so rounding the world to the fabled regions of the East, and its influ- ence upon the welfare of countless numbers of the human race, will always mark the period of the administration of President Polk. Of the unexpected results of the war, probably the least looked for was the development of one of its least known officers at the outset, into his successor in the presidential chair. President Polk, having accom- panied General Taylor to the inaugural ceremonies at the capitol on the fifth of March, 1849, retired to his home at Nashville, taking Charleston and New Orleans by the way. He made the journey in safety, though an attack of diarrhgea, in his ascent of the Missis- sippi, and the inevitable fatigue of tra- vel, probably somewhat enfeebled his powers. He reached home to occupy the mansion and grounds in the heart of the city, formerly occupied by Sena- tor Grundy, of which he had become the purchaser; but he was not destined to enjoy them long. An attack of the chronic diarrhsea to which he was sub- ject proved unmanageable by his phy- sicians, and after a few days' illness his powers of life were exhausted. His death took place on the fifteenth of June, 1849, in his fifty-fourth year, little more than three months after his retire- ment from the Presidency. In person^ Mr. Polk was spare, of the middle height, with a bright, expressive eye, and ample, angular forehead. Of his personal character we may cite the words of his biog- rapher: "He was simple and plain in all his habits. His private life was upright and blameless. Honesty and integrity characterized his intercourse with his fellow men; fidelity and affec- tion his relations to his family. In his friendships he was frank and sincere; and courteous and affable in his dispo- sition. He was generous and benevO' lent; but his charities, like his charac- ter, were unostentatious. He was pious, too, sincerely; his wife was a member of the Presbyterian church, but he never united with any denomination, though on his dying bed he received the rite of baptism at the hands of a Methodist clergyman, an old neighbor and friend." * 1 The Life of James Knox Polk, by John S. Jenkins. / I / / /islj ts /) u v\ /—* RUFUS CHOATE. Few legal practitioners, who have been so exclusively devoted to their profession, have acquired the popular reputation which followed the man, as it will long attach itself to the memory of Rufus Choate. The bar, even in its more intelligible exhibitions—those likely to interest the sympathies and arouse the admiration of a general audience—has but a limited field for display. Like the " momentary graces " of the actor, much of the success of the advocate blazes and expires on the in- stant. The spectators in a court room are moved; the judge, perhaps, relaxes his official dignity in the restrained tribute of a smile, or a frown a little less severe; and the jury may melt in a body, victims to the resistless cun- ning or eloquence of the pleader. But • how little of all these triumphant ex- ertions—this acting and applause, the wit, the humor, the skill, the judgment, the readiness of mind—leave the hall with the retiring advocate. At most a general reputation is gained—all-im- portant indeed to the man of law, for his success will bring him flocks of clients, trusting their lives and fortunes to his powers, and opening their purses with ever increasing prodigality and alacrity ; but how scant is the material for biography in the cash-book of the '. n.—32 counsellor. A few anecdotes of his brilliancy linger awhile among the liti- gants and his fellow members of the bar; the dashing pleader retires to give place to other expenders of breath in the ceaseless service of injured fortunes and reputations; and all that is left of the bubbling vanity of fame is the label on the empty bottle denoting the costly vintage which once sparkled Avithin. The wine has been poured out, quaffed with enthusiasm, set the table in a roar, and the banqueters have long since taken their departure. Such, for the most part, is professional success. If a record is kept by the court reporter, the drier portions of the argument only will be preserved, studiously stripped of their rhetorical ornaments, and though, to members of the profession, there can be no greater mental luxury than the technical intricacies of a pro- tracted legal disputation, such reading, it must be equally admitted, has never been found peculiarly attractive to the public at large. In family libraries very few of those books are seen on the shelves for which, as a special warning, the wisdom of ages has provided a pe- culiar covering of bleached calt, which can be detected on the instant. Many men thinking themselves well inform- ed, familiar with Shakspeare and Mil- 258 254 PvUFUS ton, Scott and Macaulay, pass through the world solacing their imaginations with the luxuries of literature and dis- tributing freely their mental graces to their friends, without having sat twenty waking minutes with a volume of Re- ports in their hands during their entire earthly existence. Lawyers, it must be admitted, are indifferent guardians of one another's fame. Perhaps, as their life is spent in exposing delusions and stripping off vanities, they think this also of the number. Yet it might be well were it otherwise—if every great practitioner had his Boswell, sedulous and on the alert to catch the fugitive felicities of the instant. Unfortunately, talent of this kind is rare, for it is a peculiar sort of ability, requiring a very nice combination of mental faculties; and the disposition to employ it is too often rewarded with a sneer in place of a plaudit. The return made to Boswell, the type of the tribe, is not, upon .the whole, a pleasing one, or likely to fas- cinate noble minds to follow his exam- ple. Yet the world should not be so fastidious toward so great a benefactor. Virtually, English life and literature are indebted to him for one of their greatest celebrities. We are not about to compare a re- cent biographer of Mr. Choate with the immortal Bozzy, either in his strength or in his weaknesses, nor was Mr. Choate himself " a great Cham of ite- rature;" but we may congratulate our- selves in possessing the volume entitled " Reminiscences of Rufus Choate, the great American Advocate, by Edward G. Parker," as an interesting Boswellian CHOATE. contribution to American literature Good taste may except to occasional expressions—we do not quite like the adjectives on the title page, they are hackneyed, and prejudge the case; per- haps they would look better at the end of the volume—but we should be un- grateful indeed if, after traversirg so many waste pages of history, denuded of personal life, we did not express our thanks to this most persevering anec- dotical writer. With the exception, perhaps, of Daniel Webster, no advo- cate has been better served in this respect; and Webster, it must be re- membered, had larger opportunities for notice as a politician and statesman. Nor are we disposed to say much against Mr. Parker's apparent exagge- rations, wild and reckless as he is, among the bland amenities of Boston biography. His superlatives will cor- rect themselves. It is something of an index of his subject's character that it, in a measure, begets this sort of enthu- siasm. It is part of the history of the man, and has been shared in no small measure by soberer writers than Mr. Parker, a gentleman who, as a pupil and life-long acquaintance of Mr. Choate, enjoyed peculiar opportunities of trac- ing his career. Since his book was issued, another biography of Mr. Choate has appeared, calmer and more judicious, from the pen of an accomplished scholar, Profes- sor Samuel Gilman Brown, of Dart- mouth College, where the memory of its distinguished alumnus is preserved with affection. This valuable memoir, prefixed to a collection of Mr. Choate's writings, supplies all that can be de- RUFUS sired to acquaint us with the character of a man well worthy the sympathetic, philosophical study the writer has ex- pended upon it. Rufus Choate was born October 1, 1799, in the old town of Ipswich, Mas- sachusetts, on an island looking out upon the ocean, the descendant from a race of New England fanners settled for more than a century in the country. His father, David Choate, is described as " a man of uncommon intellectual endowments, of sound and independent judgment, a wise counsellor, sociable, sagacious, modest, keen and witty;" his mother, Miriam Foster, " a quiet, sedate, but cheerful woman, dignified in. manner, quick in perception, of strong sense and ready wit." The son is said to have resembled his mother " in many characteristics of mind and person." The father died before his son Rufus had reached his ninth year; the mother lived to an advanced age, nearly to the termination of that son's eminent career. The boy early dis- played the exercise of imagination and the passion for knowledge which dis- tinguished him through life. Stories of military and naval life made a strong impression upon him. He began his ac- quaintance with Latin at the age of ten, receiving instruction from a physician who resided in his father's family; and continued his studies during a portion of each year with the parish clergyman or the teachers of the district school, till he reached his sixteenth year, when, after passing a season at the academy in Hampton, New Hampshire, he was ad- mitted, in the summer of 1815, to the Freshman class in Dartmouth College. There, at a time when the institution, laboring under its famous legal embar- rassments, required and secured the ut- most devotion from its members, we find him, distinguished among the foremost, graduating with the highest honors of his class in due course in 1819. He was a pale, studious youth, of a poetical tem perament, given to books and retirement, while others were at play, a favorite with his fellows, for he had a warm, generous nature—one of those subtil, fiery spirits, which to the herd of the coarse and unintelligent, appear miracles of genius and learning. His Valedictory is spoken of as both pathetic and origi- nal, and originality in so prescribed and commonplace affair as a valedictory is a sure test of genius. The pathos is said to have been enhanced to his hearers by the contrast between his glowing picture of the future prospects of his fellow students entering upon life and his own seeming ill health, which would arrest him in the race. As a proof of his scholarship, he was retained for a year as a tutor to the college. At the expiration of this service, he entered the Dane law school at Cambridge, where Edward Everett, in his eulogy in Faneuil Hall, has recalled his studi- ous presence in the alcoves of the li- brary. Thence, after a few months, he passed to the law office of William Wirt, then residing at Washington in the discharge of his duties as attorney- general of the United States. The as- sociation was one well suited to the character of the young student, for Wirt was also a man of enthusiasm and sensibility, and such intercourse as passed between them in the year spent 256 RUFUS CHOATE. b) Qhoate in the office must have been profitable and endearing. Unhappily, Wirt was suffering most of the time from attacks of vertigo, brought on by over exertion, so that his pupil had not the opportunity of witnessing his best forensic efforts. Another great lawyer was then the talk and wonder at Wash- ington, the accomplished William Pink- ney, whose resources and elaboration, his command of language and polished delivery, with his rhetorical weaknesses, seem to have been carefully weighed by Mr. Choate, who was in time to lis- ten to his last forensic effort, before the Supreme Court, interrupted by the at- tack of illness which carried him off in a week. The occasional comments on Pinkney scattered through Mr. Par- ker's "Reminiscences" show the great impression made upon Mr. Choate's mind by the admired orator of the bar. Returning from the South with this enlarged experience, he completed his studies with Judge Cummins of Salem, was admitted to the bar in 1823, and began the practice of his profession at Danrers, in the same county of Essex. After two or three years he removed to Salem, and speedily became known as a rising lawyer of undoubted powers. His legal acuteness was already mani- fested, and that control of juries in criminal cases by which he became afterward so widely celebrated. He was elected to the State legislature in 1825, and subsequently to the Senate. Tn 1830 he was nominated by the Na- tional Republicans of Essex as represen- tative to Congress, and was elected by a handsome majority. He was also returned to the succeeding Congress by the same constituency; but, having determined to remove his residence to Boston, resigned his seat at the close of the first session. He made a favor- able impression in the House of Repre- sentatives in this troubled period of public affairs, establishing his reputa- tion as an orator by his speeches on the Tariff and the Removal of the Deposits; but his thoughts were more with his profession than with politics. A passage from a letter written to his friend Professor George Bush short- ly after the issue of President Jackson's Proclamation against Nullification sets in a striking light his judgment of that political heresy. "The session," he writes at the end of January, 1833, ".is now one of thrilling interest. Calhoun is drunk with disappointment; the image of an ardent, imaginative, intel- lectual man, who once thought it as easy to set the stars of glory on his brow, as to put his hat on; now ruined, dishonored. He has to defend the most contemptible untruth in the whole his- tory of human opinion, and no ability will save him froin contempt mentally. Then he hoped to recover himself by a brilliant stroke, permanently inserting nullification into our polity and put- ting himself at the head of a great Convention of the States—a great mid- night thunder-storm, hail-storm meeting of witches and demons, round a caldron big enough to receive the disjecta mem- bra of the Constitution, thence never to come a whole, still less a blooming, young and vigorous form. Wherefore per eat.n Abandoning congressional life at Washington, for the more settled pur RUFUS CHOATE. 257 pose which he had formed in his mind, he devoted himself thencefor- ward mainly to the law. He gradually and surely rose to an eminent position among his distinguished brethren of the profession, who learnt to recognize be- neath various peculiarities of manner a profound legal mind of the first order. " Mr. Choate," says his biographer, Professor Brown, "whose appearance and manner were unique, whose elo- quence then was as exuberant, fervid \m\ rich as it ever became; who, how- 3ver modest for himself, was bold al- nost to rashness for his client; who startled court and jury by his vehe- mence, and confounded the common- place and routine lawyer by the novelty md brilliancy of his tactics; who, free from vulgar tricks, was yet full of sur- prises, and though perpetually delight- ing by the novelty and beauty of his argument, was yet without conceit or vanity, could not at once be fully un- derstood and appreciated. He fairly fought his way to eminence, created the taste which he gratified, and demon- strated the possibility of almost a new variety of eloquence. It would have been surprising, if he had not to con- tend with prejudices which time only could fully melt away. For several years it was rather the fashion to laugh at his excessive vehemence of gesture and playful exaggerations, but when it was found that the flowers and myrtle concealed a blade of perfect temper, and as keen as any that the dryest lo- gician could forge, that the fervent ges- ticulator never for one moment lost command of himself or his subject, nor failed to hold the thought and interest of the jury, as the ancient mariner held the wedding guest, till convinced, de- lighted, entranced, they were eager to find a verdict for his client, doubt gave place to confidence, and disparagement to admiration." After seven years of unintermitted practice, Mr. Choate was chosen United States senator as the successor of Daniel Webster, who retired to accept the office of Secretary of State in the ad- ministration of President Harrison. Mr. Choate's course in the Senate was that of the Whig party. He defended a regulated tariff for protection, op- posed the ultra Democratic pretensions in the Oregon Question and the An- nexation of Texas, delivering elaborate speeches, which were published, on all these questions. They were argued with ability, "with occasional illustra- tions, marked equally by force and re- finement, quite out of the usual range of political discussion. There is a pas- sage, one of many instances of the sub- tilty to which we allude, cited by Mr. Whipple in an admirable article on Mr. Choate's mental characteristics in the " Whig Review," which appeal's to us to exhibit the orator's unhackneyed turn of thought with great felicity. He is speaking on the subject of the Tariff and arguing for protection to American industry on account of the variety it would add to the ordinary employments of American life, and the consequent addition to the resources needed for different natures—a philosophical ne- cessity never before, we venture to say, so presented in the thousand speeches on this apparently threadbare subject. " In a country," he says, " of few occu- 253 RUFUS CHOATE. pations, employments go down by an arbitrary, hereditary, coercive designa- tion, without regard to peculiarities of individual character. But a diversified, advanced and refined mechanical and manufacturing industry, cooperating with those other numerous employ- ments of civilization which always -sur- round it, offers the widest choice, de- tects the slightest shade of individual- ly, quickens into existence and trains co perfection the largest conceivable amount and utmost possible variety of national mind." The thought thus opened admits of indefinite illustration, and as it brings before us the varied industry of Europe, with its nicety of arts and applications, the quickness of eye, skill of hand, patient ingenuity, and the whole stock of mixed intellec- tual and scientific resources, we see the moral as well as material issue involved in the question; that it is not a mere matter of balance of trade, but an en- largement of the freedom of pursuit of the individual man. Such intellectual openings of new windows into old, stagnant, unventilated topics were not rare with Mr. Choate. They were ori- ginal products of his faculties, which united powers of reasoning with imagi- native association. : In the practical exercise of wit and fancy he also excelled. There is a cap- ital instance, also cited by Mr. Whipple, in Mi*. Choate's speech on the Oregon Question, where the mind of the lis- tener is elevated by a series of imagin- ative pictures to be more securely taken possession of by the closing appeal. The orator has occasion to rebuke the idea of a settled hostility on the part of America to Great Britain. " No, sir," he said, "we are above all this. Let the Highland clansman, half naked, half civilized, half blinded by the peat smoke of his cavern, have his heredit- ar}T enemy and his hereditary enmity, and keep the keen, deep, and precious hatred, set on fire of hell, alive, if he can; let the North American Indian have his, and hand it down from father to son, by Heaven knows what sym- bols of alligators and rattle-snakes and war clubs, smeared with vermilion and entwined with scarlet; let such a coun- try as Poland, cloven to the earth, the armed heel on the radiant forehead, her body dead, her soul incapable to die—let her remember the wrongs of days long past; let the lost and wan- dering tribes of Israel remember theirs —the manliness and the sympathy of the world may allow or pardon this to them; but shall America, young, free and prosperous, just setting out on the highway of heaven, ' decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she just begins to mOve in, glittering like the morning star, full of life and joy'— shall she be supposed to be polluting and corroding her noble and happy heart, by moping over old stories of stamp-act and tea-tax, and the firing of the Leopard on the Chesapeake in time of peace ?" Here rhetoric is doing her best office in serving a high moral pur- pose. This was a man born to addiess the people. At a national crisis he would stand forth a Patrick Henry. In fact, it was some such union of acuteness with fancy, presided over by the sympathetic heart, which did cha- racterize the oratory of Henry. RUFUS CHOATE. 259 In 1845, his term being ended, Mr. Choate retired from the Senate, and thenceforth, with the exception of an occasional lecture or public address, occupied himself exclusively with the duties of his profession. He took part in politics by the side of Webster and his friends, but was never again in office, unless we except his service in the Constitutional Convention of Mas- sachusetts in 1853. Even his political speeches were prompted rather by friendship and devotion to the conser- vative cause to which he was attached, than by any desire or expectation of personal advancement. His occasional orations, however, were too intimately the growth of his peculiar studies and habits of thinking not to stamp his fame. Long before his death, he had acquired a reputation in a department somewhat at this day the peculiar pro- perty of American genius. Previously to taking his seat in the Senate, he had delivered in Boston, in 1841, the eulogy on President Harrison, dwelling with great feeling on the benevolent virtues of his character. In 1843, his oration before the New England Society at New York was memorable not only for its extraordinary eloquence, but for calling forth a religious controversy between the Rev. Dr. Wainright, after- ward the Provisional Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the diocese, and the Rev. Dr. Potts, an in- fluential Presbyterian clergyman of the city. The passage of the discourse which gave rise to the discussion, was one in which the orator pictured the Puritans flying from persecution in Knglaud to Geneva, where they found " a state without king or nobles; a church without a bishop." The senti- ment was complimented at the dinner in the evening, and a reply elicited from Dr. Wainright, who maintained, in the controversy which followed, the scriptural necessity of a bishop to the true church organization. The main effort, however, of Mr. Choate, outside of his profession and his speeches in the Senate, was his dis- course delivered before the faculty, students and alumni of Dartmouth College, in the summer of 1853, com- memorative of Daniel Webster. To this he was aroused by every generous, intellectual and moral feeling of his nature. It was their common alma mater before whom he was to speak, and it was of the great orator whose genius rib man more admired, and the friend whom no man more loved. AH the finer qualities of his intellect, all the resources of his talent, his books and studies, all the tender sympathies of his heart, were freely poured forth in this admired production. An analy- sis of it would be the discovery of the best traits of his peculiar genius. It is no ordinary enumeration of the ser- vices of a departed great man, couched •in simple appropriate phraseology, but teems and swells with the burden of great thoughts and heartfelt emotions. There is in it a deep under-current of the orator's own life, as he utters his long rhythmical sentences in words and pauses Hooker or Milton would not have disdained. The fame of Webster is poured in upon the mind of the reader in a succession of ocean waves, borne along with strength and breaking 2fi0 RUFUS CHOATE. into particles of sparkling brilliancy. The force of enumeration can go no further than it has been earned in this oration. It has been somewhat fanci- fully said of the style of Mr. Choate, in reference to his abundant use of adjectives, that he "drove a substantive and six;" but the Webster eulogy is not made up of adjectives, but of mul- titudinous, component members of sen- tences, each a part of a majestic whole. A single sentence, in one instance, extends through several octavo pages, and it requires a rapid mind and a long breath to follow it to the end; but nothing in it is superfluous or out of place: all its parts are accessories to one leading exhibition of the states- manship of its illustrious subject. The style is not a model for imitation: it is too great a tax on the attention of the reader, and still greater on the powers of the writer. A feeble author would infallibly break down in the attempt, and most writers, possessed of the re- quisite matter, would be confused in its utterance; but Mr. Choate, of deep learning, profound reflection, rapid in the imaginative processes, skilled also in the arts of condensation, trained by his profession to survey every means and carry the whole to an inevitable conclusion, had both the material and the power to direct it: the parts are at once complete in themselves and con- gruous to the whole. That the reader may not consider this praise ill-bestowed, we venture to take one or two of these long-breathed sen- tences, to afford an idea of the rest. Near the opening this passage occurs, deep- toned and musical, with a rhythmical utterance flowing from the soul of a po- et, for such Rufus Choate undoubtedly was, though he may not have written a line of verse. He is speaking of the places in the land from which the incense of gratitude might naturally arise to the memory of Webster, pre- vious to lighting upon the special pro- priety of the scene of his own discourse at Dartmouth : " In the halls of Con- gress," he said, " where the majestic form seems ever to stand and the deep tones to linger, the decorated scene of his larger labors and most diffusive glory; in the courts of law, to whose gladsome light he loved to return— putting on again the robes of that pro- fession, noble as virtue, necessary as justice—in which he found the begin- ning of his honors; in Faneuil Hall, whose air breathes and burns of him; in the commercial cities, to whose pur- suits his diplomacy secured a peaceful sea; in the cities of the inland, around which his capacious public affections and wise discernment, aimed ever to develop the uncounted resources of that other, and that larger, and that newer America; in the pulpit, whose place among the higher influences which exalt a state, our guide in life, our con- solation in death, he appreciated pro- foundly and vindicated by weightiest argument and testimony, of whose offi- cers, it is among the fittest, to mark and point the moral of the great things of the world, the excellency of dignity and the excellency of power passing away as the pride of the wave—passing from our eye to take on immortality; in those places and such as these, there seemed a reason beyond, and other RUFUS CHOATE. 261 than the universal calamity, for such honors of the grave." Nothing can be stronger, nothing can be finer than this in Greek or Roman fame of oratory. The noblest life is everywhere infused into the thought; the triumphs of life are displayed; mortality casts its solemn shadow over the scene, and death is swallowed up in victory. Again, hear him speaking of the elo- quence of Webster in terms which, in this noble oration at least, might be aptly applied to his own: " The same higtupower of reason, intent to explore and display some truth; some truth of judicial, or historical, or biographical fact; some truth of law, deduced by construction, perhaps, or by illation; some truth of policy, for want whereof a nation, generations, may be the worse; reason seeking and unfolding truth: the same tone in all of deep earnestness, expressive of strong desire that that which he felt to be important should be accepted as true, and spring up to action; the same transparent, plain, forcible and direct speech, con- veying his exact thought to the mind, not something else or more; the same sovereignty of form, of brow and eye, and tone and manner—everywhere the intellectual king of men standing be- fore you—that same marvellousness of qualities and results, residing, I know not where, in words, in pictures, in the ordering of ideas, in felicities indescri- bable, by means whereof, coming from his tongue, all things seemed mended; truth seemed more true; probability more plausible; greatness more grand; goodness more awful; every affection more tender than when coming from n.—33 other tongues—these are all in his eloquence. But sometimes it became individualized and discriminated even from itself; sometimes place and cir- cumstances, great interests at stake, a stage, an audience fitted for the highest historic action, a crisis, personal or national, upon him, stirred the depths of that emotional nature as the anger of the goddess stirs the sea on which the great epic is beginning; strong passions, themselves kindled to inten- sity, quickened every faculty to a new life; the stimulated associations of ideas brought all treasures of thought and knowledge within command, the spell, which often held his imagination fast, dissolved, and she arose and gave him to choose of her urn of gold; earnestness became vehemence, the sim- ple, perspicuous, measured and direct language became a headlong, full and burning tide of speech.; the discourse of reason, wisdom, gravity and beauty, changed to Aeivorrjg, that rarest consum- mate eloquence, grand, rapid, pathetic, terrible; the aliquid immensum injini- tumque that Cicero might have recog- nized; the master triumph of man in the rarest opportunity of his noblest power." Truly has it been said a man finds in another what he possesses in himself. This glorious eulogy is more the orator's ideal of his own art, than its attainment by the subject of his eulogy. Mr. Choate never surpassed this crowning effort. It remains the monu- ment of his broken life—for that life was destined not long after to close in the full meridian of his powers. Some two years later in 1855, he received an injury from 262 RUFUS CHOATE. a sprain which led to confinement and a surgical operation; his health, after this, appeared often interrupted, and finally became so weakened that in the summer of 1859 he sailed for Europe with the hope of mending his strength. He became so ill on the way that he was forced to discontinue the voyage at Halifax, where he died on the thir- teenth of July, at the age of sixty, of an affection of the heart. In estimating the character of Mr. Choate the reader who studies him in his political speeches and literary ad- dresses must remember how small a portion of the life of the man was given to these things—that he was first and above all things an advocate at the bar, pursuing the profession of the law in its various forms, before juries, before judges, in the lower and the higher courts, on circuits, in the supreme judi- cature. There was his strength, there his energy was displayed. It was a field of great importance and of vast labors, but in which, as we intimated at the outset, the triumph often rose and perished on the instant. To the court room he brought all the prodigal luxu- riance of his nature, occasionally letting his fancy run riot in the sweep of his illustrations. His manner was rapid, full of energy to violence, and he some- times ran into the grotesque, shocking the sensibilities of persons " content to dwell in decencies for ever," though we may suppose he had always a sufficient motive for what he said and for his manner of saying it. The license which he took seems, at any rate, to have ex- ercised no unfavorable influence on the jury, for he generally gained his cause. Still the anecdotes related of him, it has to be admitted, at times approach the ludicrous, and he must be pro- nounced guilty of humorous extrava- gance—a sin which will be leniently weighed when we remember the liber- ties of a contrary character which dull- ness so often takes, and that a certain excess is no uncommon attendant upon genius. No man can be so energetic as Mr. Choate was and crowd so much of action into life without outstripping the tame processes of ordinary men. His eloquence was no vulgar blaze of an empty straw heap to dazzle a crowd for a moment, but a light sup- ported by a central fire which might be burnt steadily. The quick operations of his mind were cherished by early, laborious and profound reading, and he never relaxed his application. Fond of books from his youth, his studies deepened with his years, till they in- cluded a vast range of literature, art and science. He knew the great men as well as their thoughts in the great books of his profession; he was un- wearied in his study of the Greek and Roman classics, particularly the philo- sophical historians Thucydides and Ta- citus ; the catalogue of his library shows how little new or old escaped him. With the fathers of English thought, the great masters of English style of the seventeenth century, when it had more strength, if less polish, than in the so-called Augustan age of Queen Anne, with Bacon, Milton and Locke, and even the minor essayists and poets of that prolific era, he was intimately con- versant, and they taught him the music and vigor of his style. V I'h-m, £haoruiLnallJi#by>> CkappeL, w ifepcssecszon of the.HJ>iLshers Sdkzmozi. Try ScC° MihBhers . ITe-vlbrt Ttar*i oaoortir^ rr ast.-' Cc-vre*a*4)J46t fy Jbhn*oruf*y k l 'vijvuSirtak office efHu d±rov**c-*tjrctrrihx sc^Ajm. ALyfrve ~r s.'~- JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN. The late major-general of the army of Mexico and governor of Mississippi had a noticeable origin in his European descent from a Protestant ancestry in Germany, of the days of the Reforma- tion. His recent faithful biographer and friend, Mr. J. F. H. Claiborne, men- tions a tradition of a citizen of Rome, of the family of the Marcelli, in the time of Luther, embracing the doctrines of that reformer, fleeing for safety to Westphalia, and in the joy of his deli- verance, assuming the significant name of Quitman—a free man. The descend- ants of this refugee for conscience sake became settled at Cleves, in the neigh- borhood of which city we find the grandfather of our American hero lo- cated as military inspector under the Prussian government. He had a son, Frederick Henry Quitman, who received a liberal education at the University of Halle, became preceptor in one of the princely houses of the land, turned his attention to theology, was instructed and ordained at Amsterdam, and sent to the Dutch island of Curacoa to dis- charge the duties of a missionary. There he married Anna Elizabeth Hu- eck, the daughter of an influential citi- zen, and there he remained engaged in his ministry the stated period of twelve years, when he became entitled to his discharge and a pension in Holland for his faithful service. A simple minded man of learning and piety, to whom his study and flock were all in all, he was now ill at ease in the disturbed at- mosphere of European society, every- where tainted with the Jacobinism of the Revolution. In this perplexity his thoughts were directed to America, where the lofty moral character of Washington, and the general simplicity of the country, presented a powerful attraction to a mind of his temper. He accordingly made his appearance one day in the United States—an emigrant Lutheran clergyman seeking a home and refuge. He was introduced to Wash- ington, the object of his admiration, then seated in his presidency, at Philadel- phia. The interview was one of great courtesy on the one part and reverence on the other. The general made inqui- ries concerning Prussia, which led of course to talk of the great Frederick, and, in natural sequence, of the eminent military leaders, ancient and modern, of whom Washington pronounced Han nibal the foremost. The Rev. Dr. Quit- man was delighted with his reception. In a memorandum which / he left of it he recorded his impression of the chief- tain's grave and reserved rather than haughty manner, his countenance, "me- 268 264 JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN. ditative and sad in repose," and his conversation " not fluent or very strik- ing except for its common sense." He could not define the source of his emotion, but there was that about the President which he could not forget. "There is not so much grandeur," he writes, " on any throne in Europe." Shortly after this honorable entrance on the stage of the new world, Dr. Quitman settled down to the quiet per- formance of his part in charge of a Lutheran congregation in Schoharie, New York, removing thence in 1798 to Rhinebeck, where he lived for more than a quarter of a century, engaged in the work of his ministry, corresponding in his prime with the learned men of the last generation; published a curious book on Magic, a series of sermons on the Reformation—and survived to wit- ness the success in life of his distin- guished son. That son, John Anthony, was born at Rhinebeck, September 1, 1798. His childhood was noted for his resolute, active temper, ever busy in some ath- letic sport or in some mechanical device. At twelve he was placed under the in- struction of the Rev. Mr. Wackerhagen, © ? a German divine in Schoharie, who in- structed him in Greek and Latin. He was a studious youth but not above a boy's passion for soldiering, it would appear, from the zeal with which he imitated a recruiting sergeant, in enlist- ing a little troop of his companions. His studies were then continued at home with at least an equal devotion to the hardy amusements to which the country life of the neighborhood invited him. He became distinguished for his skill and strength in bodily exercises and his success in hunting. With these qualifications he began life at the me of eighteen, as tutor at the DO? Hartwick Academy in Otsego County, New York, " a place of mountains, val- leys, lakes and woods," as he wrote to his brother, " where it freezes in June, and the sun rises and sets one hour later than in Rhinebeck." He was industriously employed all day in teach- ing the pupils Greek, Latin and English, and modestly admits he was hard pressed by his scholars with " cross questions," though he managed to keep ahead of them. In 1818 he was promoted to an ad- junct professorship of the English lan- guage at Mount Airy College, an insti- tution kept by a Frenchman, at Ger- mantown, in Pennsylvania. He lived a year there with a motley set of teach- ers—an English Unitarian minister in the classical department, a lieutenant of marines in the mathematics, " a poor sheepish Yankee" for his colleague in English, a great politician, Mr. Mareno, in Spanish, and an odd genius from Buonaparte's armies, for the French. As they were all very amiable, their humors must have relieved the tedium of the dull work of education. Mr. Quitman passed about a year at Mount Airy when his genius impelled him to something more active and ad- venturous. At the outset he had an eye on his father's profession as a clergy- man, but this inclination he soon threw off in favor of the law. An acquaint- ance which he had made with Mr. Piatt Brush, a lawyer and member of Con- gress from the Chilicothe district, Ohio, JOHN ANTHO: led him to think of trying his fortune in the West. The desire grew upon him and on the completion of his school en- gagement he determined to put the plan in execution. Receiving his father's blessing at the old home at Rhinebeck, written out for his remembrance—" May the God of power and wisdom preserve thee, my son, sound in body and mind, and his benevolence and favor accom- pany you through a long series of future years"—he made his way to Philadel- phia on his route to the Alleghanies. Summing up his finances, which were somewhat diminished by the interpola- tion of a Connecticut bank note, which "like sundry other wares from that state, turned out a counterfeit," he found that while he could forward his baggage across the mountains by the transporta- tion wagon it would be more politic for hiru to go himself on foot. He accord- ingly, with gun and knapsack, and, what was a better provision, the rejoic- ing spirit of youth, jogged along till after about a fortnight's travel, having " enjoyed himself on the road with some pleasant flirtations with the girls," as his diary records, he arrived one night at the beginning of November, at Pitts- burg. His journey thence with a cheer- ful party of travellers in a keel boat down the Ohio, is a picture of the past. The accommodations were rough but the ladies made them agreeable. There were a Mrs. Griffith and her mother, of the Boudinot family, from New Jersey. The young lady played on the flageolet and young Quitman on the flute. So these Arcadians went fif- ing down the river, the crack of the STY QUITMAN. 265 fowling piece, in pursuit of game on the shore, profitably varying the concert. When they reached the Virginian soil the natives, who rejoiced in the eupho- nious appellations of "steamboats," " snapping turtles," and " half horse half alligators," were to be treated with " red eye " or " rot gut" whiskey, and the ope- ration was required to be repeated on first making fast to "'Old Kaintuck." After some fifteen days of this pleasant journeying our adventurer was landed at Portsmouth, whence he was to pro- ceed to his friend Col. Brush, who was to make a lawyer of him at Chilicothe. He expected to perform this pilgrimage on foot, but happily fell in with a per- son wishing to send a horse there, and, establishing his credit by his letters, was allowed to ride the animal. " Cheered by this piece of good luck," says the Diary, " he set out with a light heart." Deer were so plentiful along the road that he 'shot one with his pistol, near Piketon. The spoil of the forest paid that night for his bed and supper. As he dismounted at Chilicothe he astounded the waiter by a round Latin quotation; a lingering of the Academy, borrowed from the journeyings of iEneas, where he congratulates himself on a resting place in his wanderings. The pupil is to have a home with Col. Brush, and the benefit of instruc- tion in his office, in return for which he is to teach the colonel Spanish and his sons the classics. After several months thus spent at Chilicothe, in which the student is assiduously devoted to his profession, mingling in the society of the place, but suffering nothing to dissi- pate his attention, avoiding debt and ill 266 JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN. habits, he is advanced to a clerkship in a land register's office, opened by a bro- ther of his employer, at Delaware, in a new district of the State. In 1820 this now central town was "on the very edge of white population," the claims of the Indians having been recently ex- tinguished. Though much admired by him for its agricultural capabilities and its many natural beauties, the region proved but a dull residence for the energetic Quitman. The scarcity of money was sensibly felt as a bar to rapid progress. "There is scarcely money enough among our farmers," he wrote to a friend, " to give their babies to cut their first teeth with." Everything was paid for in produce, which might answer for the rude living of the farmers, but offered no opportunities for professional success. His thoughts, in fact, were already directed to the South. " The Southern States," he wrote to his father, hold out golden prospects to men of integrity, application and good acquirements. Money is there as plenty as it is scarce here, and a good reason for it; for while not a single article of our produce will command cash, their cotton, sugar, tobac- co and rice are always in demand, and the world will not do without them." To Natchez accordingly his steps are bent, beckoned thither by the good Mrs. Griffith, the lady who had been his fellow traveller in the keel boat on his first descent of the Ohio. He starts at the beginning of November, 1821, from the village, with his law license in his pocket, a small sum of money collected from his clients, a good horse under him, and a stock of healthy experiences in a new country, sustained by industry and self denial. It was a rough season for travel. The river was clogged with ice as he crossed it to Maysville, and the roads were so smoothly frozen that the mare which he rode became lame. He was unhandsomely deprived of the ani- mal by a Kentucky sharper in conjunc- tion with a knavish landlord, who per- suaded him to " swap" for a noble animal, the only horse in fact " which Brigadier- General Somebody, who came around once a year to muster the brigade, would ride on such occasions." The young lawyer fell into the snare, paying also twenty-five dollars addition for his expe- rience; the splendid animal soon broke down on the road, and the rider, giving up all thoughts of traversing the land to Mississippi as he had intended, on horseback, was compelled to sneak into Louisville after nightfall to escape the jeers of the street. Thence he made his way on a steamboat to his place of destination. It is well worth lingering to listen to his first pleasant impressions of the place.. The letter of Mrs. Griffith intro- duced him to her son, little older than himself, but already established as a leading lawyer of the city. His books, his office, his friendship were at the service of the new comer. The hospi- tality of the planters, whose wealth was in striking contrast to the poverty of the farmers in Ohio, delighted him. " Their very servants," he wrote to his father, " catch the feeling of their own- ers and anticipate one's wants. Your coffee in the morning before sunrise; little stews and sudorifics at night, and warm foot-baths if you have cold; bou JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN. 267 quets of fresh flowers and mint-juleps sent to your apartment; a horse and saddle at your disposal; everything free and easy and cheerful and cordial. It is really fascinating, and I seem to be leading a charmed life compared with my pilgrimage elsewhere." By the aid of Mr. Griffith, he was soon introduced to a profitable practice, and his fortunes were still more en- hanced by marriage, in 1824, with a wealthy heiress of the city, the daugh- ter of a gentleman named Turner, who had emigrated from Kentucky. Mr. Quitman was now getting to be some- thing of a public man. Having always a military turn, he had been appointed brigade inspector of militia, with the rank of major, arid in 1827 was brought forward as a candidate from Natchez and Adams county, for the legislature of the State. His biographer, Mr. Clai- borne, has a characteristic anecdote of the contest with his competitor. Cap- tain Quitman, as he was then called, entered with great spirit into the can- vass. He traversed every section of the county, and just before the election attended a large gathering at Hering's store, the extreme precinct, near the Franklin county line. He went, in his usual neat dress, but soon threw off his coat, and astonished the crowd by his feats in wrestling, leaping and boxing. A foot-race was got up, a sweepstake for six, a hundred and fifty yards, and he beat the fastest. The heavyweights from Hoggatt's cotton-gin were on the ground, and he lifted more, at arm's length, than the strongest man present. His strength of arm was remarkable. By this time a fat ox—the prize of the day—was driven up, the target fixed at sixty yards, and the shooting com- menced. There were several expert riflemen on the ground, among whom was the noted John Hawkins, the crack shot of the whole country round. No one would shoot against him, and " Brown Bess," as he called his favorite rifle, without the odds. To the aston- ishment of the crowd, Quitman refused the odds and took an even chance. The contest was left to them. Haw- kins's pride was aroused, and he shot more deliberately than usual. Three times they tried their skill, and three times the veteran was beaten. He seemed thunder-struck and grief-smit- ten, angry and churlish. At length, however, admiration at what he con- sidered as something almost supernatu ral got the better of him, and he stepped up to Quitman, and taking off his hat, said, " Sir, you have done what no other man has been able to do. The beef is yours, and John Hawkins is yours too." Quitman took his hand, praised his shooting, caressed Brown Bess, presented him the beef, and pro- posed a general treat. His election was secured. Thus launched on the flood of politics, he continued to contend or float with the current to the end. Of an ambiti- ous nature, he sought public duties, civil and military, as the highest ob- jects of earnest citizenship. His legal ability and experience, enabled him at once to be of use in the legislature, in the determination of various judicial reforms. He presently, also, received from the governor the appointment of Chancellor of the State, and became so 268 JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN. i \ much interested in its duties, as to refuse a proffered nomination as a can- didate for a vacant seat in the United States Senate. In 1832, he was elected a member of the State Convention, for the formation of a new constitution, in which he opposed the adoption of the then unprecedented provision for the election of judges by the people. " A constitution," he maintained, " is intend- ed not merely to establish a frame of government, but also principally to de- fine and limit the powers of the several departments, and to protect the private citizen in his reserved rights. It is thus intended for the benefit of the minor- ity, to protect them against the action of the majority; to protect the weak against the strong, the poor and infirm against the rich and powerful. The judicial department is to apply these restraints. Is it not therefore improper, in the very threshold, to place this department strictly and immediately under the influence and control of those who are to be restrained ?" By these and other arguments, addressed to the electors of Adams county before the Convention, he sought to regulate pub- lic opinion on this important topic, where his legal mind directed him to the right issue; and though he subse- quently acquiesced in the working of the new system when the change was made, we may take this excellent docu- ment as evidence of his best judgment on the matter. The new Constitution on going into operation, certainly was at first practically in his favor, for he was elected by the people chancellor under its provisions. He held the office for two years—marked by a sad inroad in his domestic circle, in the loss of two sons by the cholera—resigning it in 1834. The next year he was chosen to the State Senate, and was made its President. These multiplied civil duties, how- ever, did not extinguish the old war spirit which always linked in Quit- man's breast, whether chancellor or law-maker. On the entry of Santa Anna into Texas in 1836, there was a cry for succor from the American set- tlers, to which no one more readily responded. He presided at a public meeting in Natchez, and in concert with General Houston, organized a company of recruits for Texas. The United States being then at peace with Mexico, he conducted his men quietly across Louisiana to the Sabine, when he was elected their captain, and assumed a warlike attitude. At San Augustine, his first resting place in Texas, he was confronted by a lawless band of gam- blers, belonging to the gang which had long infested the Mississippi, and some of whom he had himself driven out of Natchez at the head -of his military company of Fencibles. One of these desperadoes, " a tall, well dressed and fierce looking man," came to his bedside at midnight with a bowie-knife belted to his side, and a large duelling pistol in his hand. " Fortunately," says Cap- tain Quitman in his diary, " I had on my belt pistols, and instantly drawing one, I confronted him and said, ' Sir, I know you, and you know who I am. I am here on other business, and desire no quarrel with you; but I fear you not.' I kept my eye steadily fixed upon him. We stood five feet apart, JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN. 269 and my intention was to shoot him down upon the slightest motion of his pistol. He glared at me for a few mo- ments, when, to my surprise and great relief, his features relaxed into a smile, and he said, ' Captain, you are a brave man, and I will be your friend.' " After this incident, Captain Quitman was able to divert the hostility of the gam- blers from his party. On entering Texas, he found the peaceful inhabitants abandoning their property in flight, before a threatened invasion of the Mexicans and Indians. An actual conflict seemed imminent at Nacogdoches, which he boldly entered and guarded with his troops. He then pursued his way southward, and joined General Houston two days after the battle of San Jacinto, which ended this invasion. On Quitman's return home- ward by the Sabine, he was fired upon by a party of robbers, and saved by the interposition of the gambler whom he had so courageously faced at San Augustine. The campaign, in various acts of liberality to his men, cost Cap- tain Quitman a private expenditure of over ten thousand dollars. In the same year with this Texan ex- pedition he was an unsuccessful candi- date for Congress, a defeat which does not appear to have affected his popu- larity. In 1839 he visited Europe to negotiate the bonds of the Planter's Bank and the Mississippi Railroad Com- pany, sailing from New York in the Sheridan, one of the "dramatic" line of packets. He was landed in Ireland, saw Cork and Dublin; thence to Liver- pool, and by the time-honored route of Stratford and Kenilworth, to London.; n.—34 across the sea to Rotterdam and into Germany, to the home of his ancestors in Westphalia. The object of his jour- ney in the sale of the bonds was not accomplished, the market being sur- charged with such securities; but he carried home with him the full measure of novel impressions always experienced by the intelligent observer in Europe from the new world. Captain Quitman engaged, on his return home, in his legal practice, and was much interested in the financial questions of his State till, on the break- ing; out of the Mexican war and the call of the President for volunteers, he was received into the army as briga dier-general. In this capacity he joined General Taylor in the month of Au- gust, 1846, at Camargo on the Rio Grande, just previous to the advance to Monterey. Taylor, whom he found "farmer-like, frank and friendly," as- signed him a brigade of the Tennessee and Mississippi regiments, which fell under the division of General Butler. In the grand attack on Monterey, in September, General Quitman was en- gaged on the eastern side of the city, in the series of operations more especi- ally conducted by General Taylor. It was his fortune to lead his brigade to the assault and capture of Fort Teneria, as it was called by the Americans, one of the most formidable defences of the city. It was gallantly carried under a heavy crossfire. General Quitman's horse was shot under him; he was sup- plied with another, dismounted at the critical moment, and ran with his men into the work. The advantage thus gained on the twenty-first was held un- 270 JOHN ANTHONY QUITMAN. der great difficulties by the brigade. " The position was uncomfortable; they were exposed to an incessant cannonade, and the corpses of the slaughtered Mexicans had become offensive; the weather was wet and cold; they had neither blankets nor fire. The general shared the fare of his troops and estab- lished his quarters on one of Ridgeley's guns. It was here his faithful servant Harry, who had followed the assaulting column, was heard remonstrating with his master, and imploring him, * for the sake of mistress and the children,' not to expose himself so much. ' Take care of yourself, Harry,' said the general. 1 Help the wounded; keep as near me as you can. I must push on with the foremost, and trust to Providence.'"1 The attack upon Monterey, it will be remembered, was terminated by the conquest of the city, street by street from its opposite sides. This last movement was conducted at one ap- proach to the main square by General Worth, at the other by General Quit- man, with equal danger and heroism. The capitulation which ensued, and which became the subject of consider- able comment, did not meet the views of Quitman. He was for pushing the war at once, conquering the country and annexing it. The President, Mr. Polk, for whose compromise measures, as he deemed them, he entertained lit- tle respect, thought otherwise. But there was much fighting yet to be done before a peace was conquered, and Quit- man was to have his share of it. At the time the troops were with- 1 Claiborne's Life and Correspondence of Quitman, I. 850. drawn from General Taylor for Scott's line at Vera Cruz, General Quitman was at Victoria, whither he had led a large body of the Southern regiments to the occupation of the city. In Jan uary, 1847, he, with his command, con- sisting of the South Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama regiments, marched under General Patterson to Tampico. They were thence transported with the army of invasion to Vera Cruz, where Quit- man had his share in the operations of the investment of the town. At the beginning of April he was charged to conduct the land expedition which co- operated with Commodore Perry in the movement against Alvarado, and performed his portion of the work with success. The surrender of the town left no occasion for fighting, but there were other services to be rendered in conciliating the inhabitants on the march, which were not neglected. In the march upward to Mexico, General Quitman, who received his commission of major-general from Wash- ington, dated April 14th, on the way, joined General Patterson at Jalapa, and on the further advance to Puebla, conducted a brigade composed of the four volunteer regiments from South Carolina, New York, Pennsylvania, and a detachment of mounted Tennesseans. At Puebla he was anxious for a com- mand adequate to the importance of his new title, but the complications of the several divisions were such that he could not, at once, be gratified by the commander-in-chief. On the arrival of reinforcements, he commanded in the advance to the city of Mexico a division consisting of the New York, South Ca JOHN ANTHO rolina, and second Pennsylvania regi- ments, a battalion of marines, Steptoe's battery, and Gaither's troop of horse. He was not in the first actions on the approach to the capital, being left in charge of the important depot at San Augustin; but Chapultepec was em- phatically his victon-. He led his troops under a heavy fire to its formid- able defences, and when the work was stormed, hastened along the. causeway to new perils, more daring even than those which invested the proud heights he had conquered. The assault of Cha- pultepec was, every way considered, one of the bravest actions of the war; its sequel, the successful attack upon the Belen gate, was Quitman's own—he was the foremost of his men in leading them to the deadly charge, as, " black with smoke, and stained with blood," he leaped upon the battery. He was in the van of the American army on the " perilous edge of battle," exposed to a thousand dangers, which seemed no ways to disturb him. He smoked his cigar quietly, gave his directions that afternoon of the thirteenth of Sep- tember, while the enemy's batteries were playing around him, confident of the success of the movement. That night overtures of surrender were made, and the next morning General Quitman was the first to enter the grand plaza of the city of Mexico, and plant the banner of his country upon the dome of the national palace. Let the reader, to appreciate the scene, banish from his mind all notions of a holiday parade, and contemplate for a moment the stern reality of this proceeding. He must imagine, not a splendid pageant of NY QUITMAN. 271 brilliantly-equipped soldiers in these victors, but, in the language of an offi- cer who participated in the previous struggle, a body of worn-out men, ex- hausted by toil and battle, " nearly all of us covered with mud, and some with blood; some limping, some with arms in scarfs, and others with heads in bandages, followed by two endless lines of gaping lepers and rabble," The brave General Quitman himself, in this triumphal procession, it is said, had but one shoe, having lost the other in falling into a canal the night before. This is victory, woe-worn, begrimed, ex- hausted ; and so should artists paint the scene if they would present it with power. General Scott arrived immediately after with his staff, and doubtless in better attire, and appointed General Quitman governor of the city. The latter left the following month for Washington, to urge his favorite plan of a permanent military occupation, of the conquered country; but different views prevailed, and the treaty of peace ended the question. New civil honors now awaited the victorious general. In the democratic nominating convention of 1848, at Bal- timore, he was talked of for the vice- presidency, and the following year was, by a large majority, elected governor of his State of Mississippi. Oddly enough, by a strange medley of events, growing out of his sympathy with the invasion of Cuba by General Lopez, he resigned the office in the middle of his term, to meet the requisition of the United States courts for his trial at New Orleans for an alleged violation 272 JOHN ANTHONY of the neutrality law. The court pro- ceeded with the trial of General Hen- derson, who was charged with com- plicity in the affair, but, failing to con- vict, entered a nolle prosequi exonera- ting General Quitman with the rest. His resignation was, with his well- known views on the subject of State rights, an instance of moderation in avoiding a conflict between the Federal and State authorities. He was, more- over, at the time, as his published cor- respondence shows, seriously thinking of secession, as a means of redress for what he pronounced to be northern aggression in the passage of Mr. Clay's omnibus bill. The course of political opinion in Mississippi ran counter to these views, or he might, perhaps, have been called again to the governor's O D chair. His visit to his native Rhinebeck, in New York, in 1853, should not be for- gotten. He was welcomed in a general gathering of the people, and addressed them with emotion, recalling the time when, thirty-four years since, he had gone forth "a portionless adventurer, armed only with the stern energies, the untiring industry and perseverance, and the good principles which the fathers of this good old county of Dutchess had imparted to their children." In 1855 he was elected to the House of Representatives of the Union, was created chairman of its committee on military affairs, and distinguished him- self by an elaborate speech advocating the repeal of the neutrality laws. At the Presidential nominating convention of this year, 1856, at Cincinnati, he had the highest number of votes on the first ballot for the vice-presidency. He spoke at length, at the next session of Congress in December, on the powers of the federal government with regard to the Territories, maintaining of course the generally received Southern view of the question. He was again elected, and took his seat in the next Congress, speaking frequently with his accustom- ed energy. His health, however, was now declining. One of his last public acts was the delivery of an address at Columbia, South Carolina, at the second anniversary of the Palmetto Associa tion, composed of the survivors of the famed regiment of that name in the Mexican war. He dwelt upon the stir- ring events of those campaigns in which he had been a participant, and recalled in particular the memorable incident of his great scene of triumph at the Belen gate, when a son of South Carolina, the gallant Lieutenant Sellick, planted the Palmetto flag on the enemy's battery, and was struck down by a severe wound in the act. General Quitman survived this visit to South Carolina but two months. On his return to Washington, he was invited to take command or preside over a large gathering of volunteer militia in Natchez. He accepted the invitation, travelled to Natchez, but failing health debarred him from the welcome honor. He sank rapidly into a fatal lethargy, and expired at his home at Natchez July 17, 1858, at the age of fifty-nine. "'1? , ^'X • STEPHEN ARNOLD DOUGLAS. The family of this eminent states- man early came to America from Scot- land, three generations being mentioned by his biographer as living in the United States. His grandfather, a na- tive of Pennsylvania, was a soldier of Washington, and was with that great commander at Valley Forge and Yorktown. A son, born in New York, who is spoken of as "a phy- sician of high repute," was the father of the subject of this sketch. Ste- phen A. Douglas was born at Bran- don, Vt., April 23, 1813. His father died in the infancy of the child. The boy was educated in the common schools till the age of fifteen, when, having exhibited an aptitude for learn- ing, and a proper perseverance, he would have continued his studies at college. The family affairs, however, did not admit of this expense. Being resolved to earn his own living, he then apprenticed himself to a cabinet- maker. He worked at this trade for eighteen months, when he relinquished it as injurious to his health. Return- ing to his studies, he entered the aca- demy at Brandon, and when the family the next year removed to Canandaigua, New York, he also studied in the aca- demy at that place, and subsequently in the law office of Mr. Hubbell. At the age of twenty, in 1833, he left for the West, to establish himself as a lawyer in that region. Several cities, Cincinnati, Louisville, St. Louis, are mentioned as places of his sojourn be- fore he found a permanent home in Illi- nois. He began his career there by opening a school at Winchester, near Jacksonville, where he taught forty pupils, giving his energies meanwhile, to the study of the law. In 1834 he was admitted to the bar of the Supreme Court, and immediately entered upon the active practice of the profession. Ardent, resolute, possessed of rare reasoning powers, it was not long before he became absorbed in that political career in which he was destined to at- tain an extraordinary eminence. Be- fore the age of twenty-two he was elected by the Legislature, Attorney- General of the State, the competitor for the office being the distinguished Colo- nel John J. Hardin. The next year, 1836, he was elected by a Democratic vote to the Legislature; the year after received the appointment from Presi- dent Van Buren of Register of the Land Office, at Springfield, and the same year was a Democratic candidate for Congress. He would have been pronounced elected, had not a few votes on which his name was misspelt, 273 274 STEPHEN ARNOLD DOUGLAS. been thrown out, which gave a majo- rity of five, out of more than forty thousand votes cast, to the Whig can- didate. Pursuing, meanwhile, his pro- fession of the law, he entered eagerly into the canvass for Van Buren in the Presidential campaign which resulted in the election of General Harrison. His promotion in Illinois was now rapid. Appointed Secretary of State in 1840, he was the next year, at the early age of twenty-seven, elected by the Legislature a judge of the Supreme Court, and discharged the duties of that office till 184'3, when he was elected to Congress. He was twice reelected, in 1844 and 1846, when his career in the House of Representatives was ar- rested by the Legislature of his State electing him as a Senator for the full term of six years, commencing with the Congress of 1847. He was twice re- elected to the Senate of the United States, his duties in this body terminat- ing only with his life. In the last elec- tion, in 1858, his competitor was Abra- ham Lincoln. The election is a memo- rable one for the closeness of the popular contest preceding it, and the discussion of principles by both candi- dates, who conducted the canvass in person. At Chicago, Springfield; at Ottowa, Freeport, Jonesboro, Charles- ton ; at Galesburg, at Quincy, at Alton, on seven occasions in joint debate, they followed one another in the discussion of the principles of the rapidly develop- ing Republican party, which then began deeply to agitate the nation. The result of the election was a Democratic Legis- lature, which returned Mr. Douglas to the Senate by a majority of eight votes. In his long career of eighteen years in the Halls of Legislation at Washing- ton, Mr. Douglas earned an eminent reputation by his force of mind, his energy, and determination. Adopting generally the principles, and advocat- ing the policy of the Democratic party, a supporter of the ultra Oregon Claim, of the annexation of Texas, of the ap- plication of the Monroe Doctrine, of the peaceful acquisition of Cuba, and the like measures; ever the indefatiga- ble advocate of Western interests in the development of the great resource? of that region; he struck out a path for himself in his advocacy of his favo- rite doctrine of Popular Sovereignty, a theory by which he sought to solve the pressing difficulties of slavery in the Territories, and for the practical adoption of which he endeavored to prepare the way by the introduction of the Kansas and Nebraska bill. The passage of that act in 1854, by its abolition of the Missouri Compro- mise, restricting slavery, with the ex- ception of Missouri, to the territory south of the northern line of Arkan- sas, was the prelude to the fearful contest which immediately ensued in Kansas, and undoubtedly opened the way for the adverse political issues which preceded the present rebellion. How far Mr. Douglas was responsible for letting loose upon the public this angry strife, it is not necessary here to inquire. Suffice it to say that his the- ory of Popular Sovereignty, beset with difficulties of the most formidable char- acter, failed to work well in practice, and was not only rejected by a great body of his countrymen of a different STEPHEN ARNOLD DOUGLAS. 275 school of politics, but embarrassed him greatly with the members of his own party, whose ultra pretensions he was compelled to oppose in his able resist- ance to the Lecompton Pro-slavery Con- stitution, when an attempt was made to force that measure upon Congress. Mr. Douglas was on three occasions a candidate in the Democratic conven- tions for the Presidency—in 1852, when General Pierce was chosen; more par- ticularly at Cincinnati, in 1856, when the sixteenth ballot stood 122 for him, to 168 for Mr. Buchanan, and he gene- rously withdrew his name that his rival might receive the requisite two- thirds vote; and again in 1860, at Charleston and Baltimore, when he re- ceived the nomination, though the con- test ended in the disruption of the De- mocratic party. In the last election there were three candidates in the field, the representatives of as many shades of opinions in regard to the great ques- tions of the time. John C. Brecken- ridge of Kentucky, represented the ultra pro-slavery doctrines of the South, denying the power of Congress to abolish or prohibit the introduction of " the peculiar institution " in the Terri- tories, and demanding for it, if neces- sary, profection from the Federal Gov- ernment. Diametrically opposite, Abra- ham Lincoln was the exponent of the views of the Republican party, which, by its " platform " at Chicago opposed the doctrine as a dangerous political heresy, fruitful of evils, and revolution- ary in its tendency, maintaining that the Constitution " of its own force " carries slavery into any of the Territories. This party held that " the normal condition of all the territory of the United States was that of freedom," and that it was the duty of Congress on all proper oc- casions to assert the principle. Holding a medium position between the two, in his doctrine of non-intervention or Pop- ular Sovereignty, Mr. Douglas sought to solve the difficulty by removing the question from Congress to the Terri- tories themselves, and leaving the peo- ple t< regulate their affairs in their own way. The position of Mr. Douglas was thus a species of compromise be- tween the other parties; an effort to hold the balance between the North and South to obviate the threatened en- counter. The question was given to the people, and the distracted councils of the Democratic party threw the election in favor of the Republicans. Of the elective popular vote of more than four millions and a half, Mr Douglas received over one million three hundred thousand, within about five hundred thousand of the vote of Mr Lincoln. The Breckenridge vote was over eight hundred thousand. Large as his aggregate vote was, Mr. Douglas had the majority only in a single State —Missouri. In his own State of Illi- nois the vote stood for Douglas 160,215; for Lincoln 172,161. The announcement of this result brought the threatened crisis. The Southern Slave States began the work of revolt, and before the newly-elected President took his seat, Secession was inaugurated in South Carolina and the Gulf States. It was a time which re- quired all men to declare their alle- giance. To the honor of Senator Douglas he did not falter in his de- 276 STEPHEN ARNOLD DOUGLAS. cision, but raised his voice clearly and unequivocally for the preservation of the Union and the maintenance of its rightful authority. While compromise and reconciliation were even talked of in the opening of the last session of Congress in President Buchanan's ad- ministration, he urged an amicable set- tlement of the difficulty, but when all peace propositions had failed, and the question was Union or Disunion, he was for a manly, determined opposition to the Southern Rebellion. On return- ing home from the Senate after the in- auguration of President Lincoln, when the patriotism of the country was aroused by the attack upon Fort Sum- ter; in thrilling, animated speeches in Ohio to the people of Wheeling and its vicinity; before the Legislature of Illi- nois at Springfield, and at a popular meeting of citizens at Chicago, on the 1st of May, 1861, he gave expression to the voice of the nation in words of stirring eloquence. " That the present danger is imminent," said he, " no man can conceal. If war must come—if the bayonet must be used to maintain the Constitution—I can say before God my conscience is clear. I have struggled long for a peaceful solution of the diffi- culty. I have not only tendered those States what was theirs of right, but I have gone to the very extreme of mag- nanimity. The return we receive is war, armies marched upon our capital, obstructions and dangers to our naviga- tion, letters of marque to invite pirates to prey upon our commerce, a concerted movement to blot out the United States of America from the map of the globe. The question is, are we to maintain the country of our fathers, or allow it to be stricken down by those who, when they can no longer govern, threaten to de- stroy ?" The answer was given by him in no doubtful terms. Had his life been spared the Union would have had no more strenuous or efficient supporter of its paramount claims upon the peo- ple. Immediately after this speech Sena- tor Douglas became confined to his room, by an attack of rheumatism, which did not, however, prevent his dic- tating a letter to a political committee, urging the consolidation of parties in the defence of the country. " A man," said he, "cannot be a true Democrat unless he is a loyal patriot." This was the last utterance of a dying statesman. Fever presently set in, and after a fort- night's illness, Senator Douglas died at Chicago, on the third of June. His latest words were spoken to his wife, a legacy of advice to his children: " Tell them to support the Constitution and the Laws-" ?^i^Zj^~- S^e^^J. 343685 JOHN J. CRITTENDEN. The last survivor of the race of emi- nent political leaders, who for a whole generation brilliantly illustrated the -Whig party in the United States Sen- ate ; the friend of Clay and the associ- ate of Webster, who lived to carry their principles, enforced by a personal cha- racter of purity and integrity, into an entirely new era of his country's history; John J. Crittenden, was born in Wood- ford County, Kentucky, about the year 1785. His father, a farmer of the State, met his death by a singular accident. He was killed by the fall of a tree while his son was quite young, leaving him to the care of his mother, by whom he was trained to a career of industry and honor. Educated to the profession of the law, he began practice in Hop- kinsville, whence he soon removed to Frankfort, where he entered upon a highly successful career as a lawyer. His official political life dates from the year 1816, when, at the age of thirty- one, he was elected from Franklin County to the Kentucky House of Re- presentatives, of which he was chosen Speaker. A choice of this kind in an assembly distinguished for ready debat- ing talent, generally marks the success- ful candidate, in whom quickness, acu- men, breadth of mind, and knowledge of the world are commonly required, n.—35 for higher political advancement. In the case of Mr. Crittenden it was the first step in his rapid promotion to the highest honors in the gift of his native State. He was presently elected to the United States Senate for the balance of a term, taking his seat in December, 1817, in the first Congress under the presidency of Monroe, of whose admin- istration he was a supporter- During this Congress we find him speaking in opposition to the sedition law of Presi- dent Adams' party, the subject having come up on a question of reimbursing the fines imposed under that enact- ment; and in favor of .the principle of freely giving the public lands of the West to actual settlers. On the expira- tion of this Congress he resumed the practice of the law at Frankfort, at which he continued, serving several terms in the State legislature, till the year 1835, when he again enter- ed the United States Senate, serving through the last two years of General Jackson's administration and the whole of Van Buren's, till the accession of President Harrison, in whose cabinet he was appointed attorney-general. The early death of Harrison caused his re- signation, when he was at once restored by the Kentucky legislature to the Se- nate, in which the retirement of Mr. 877 278 JOHN J. CRITTENDEN. Clay had created a vacancy. On the expiration of this term he was a second time returned for the full period of six years, which he had nearly completed, when, in 1848, he resigned to become governor of his native State, to which office he was triumphantly elected by the Whig party. In 1850, under the administration of President Fillmore, he is again at Washington, a second time seated in the cabinet, the associate of Daniel Webster, as attorney-general. He held the office for more than two years, till the accession of President Pierce. In 1855, he was again return- ed to the Senate for the full term of six years. During all this time Mr. Crittenden supported the principles of his eminent fellow-representative in the Senate, Henry Clay, and of the Whig party generally, distinguishing himself by his advocacy of a protective tariff; and his opposition to the anti-bank measures of President Jackson, the sub-treasury system of Van Buren, and the annexa- tion of Texas. In his relations to the great questions of foreign policy of his time, the war with Mexico and the Ore- gon boundary difficulty, he was on the side of moderation, desirous that the first should be terminated as speedily as possible consistent with the national honor, and deprecating any violent action on the latter. In two instances he showed his sympathy with the peo- ple of Europe; in his introduction of the bill into the Senate, authorizing the purchase of provisions and their trans- portation in a public ship to the poor of Ireland, and in his prompt advocacy of a recognition of the popular move- ment in France in the Revolution of 1848. The main features of his states- manship were embraced in his persist- ent inculcation of a home, national, con- servative policy; free alike from fo- reign entanglement and domestic broils. Thus, in common with Mr. Clay and other prominent members of his party, he sought a conciliatory course on the subject of the growing political difficul- ties between the North and the South. The conclusion of his last Senatorial term in which, during the stirring con- flicts arising from the disturbed state of affairs—the incipient civil war—in Kansas, he endeavored to pursue an independent middle path, brought him to the first stage of the Great Rebellion at the end of President Buchanan's ad- ministration. No one at this time in Congress was more active in devising plans and expedients of conciliation to stay the South in its threatened revolt. He advocated an amendment to the Constitution denying to Congress the power to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia while it existed in Mary- land and Virginia; or to abolish it in places under its exclusive jurisdiction in any of the slaveholding States. He would have had these and other provisions of a like nature unalterable. When the result of the labors of the Peace Conference, proposing, among other measures, an extension of the line of the Missouri Compromise to the Pa- cific, denying to Congress any inter- ference with slavery in the territories below that parallel, was laid before the Senate, Mr. Crittenden was placed at the head of the committee appointed for their consideration. They were re JOHN J. CRITTENDEN. 279 ported without alteration by the com- mittee ; but the Senate, as a body, was not disposed to entertain them. While some preferred the Resolutions previ- ously offered by Mr. Crittenden, the majority refused to receive either. It was, in fact, too late for conciliation. South Carolina had taken the initiative of revolt. The rebellion was an ac- complished fact. To the next Congress, the first of President Lincoln's administration, Mr. Crittenden was returned as a mem- ber of the House of Representatives. Accepting the war as an inevitable necessity for the preservation of the Union, in the words of his Resolution of the 22d of July, 1862, " forced upon the country by the disunionists of the Southern States, now in arms against the constitutional government, and in arms against the capital," he strove to limit its objects to the simple preserva- tion of the Union; or in the further words of the Resolution, " that in this national emergency, Congress, banish- ing all feelings of mere passion or re- sentment, will recollect only its duty to the whole country; that this war is not waged on their part in any spirit of oppression, or for any purpose of con- quest or subjugation, or purpose of overthrowing or interfering with the rights or established institutions of those States, but to defend and main- tain the supremacy of the Constitu- tion, and to preserve the Union with all the dignity, equality, and rights of the several States unimpaired; and that as soon as these objects are ac- complished, the war ought to cease." The Resolution, which fully indi- cates the cautious conservatism of Mr. Crittenden, was almost unanimously adopted. In Kentucky, Mr. Crittenden remain- ed a staunch defender of the Union, supporting the war measures of the ad- ministration, and upholding the fidelity of his native State. When, after many severe shocks of war, its position as a member of the old United States seem- ed fully confirmed, the venerable pat- riot, at the age of seventy-seven, on the 26th of July, 1863, died at his home at Frankfort. He sank under general debility, while his faculties were main- tained to the last. His remains were interred with distinguished honors in the family burial place in the beauti- ful Cemetery of the city overlooking the Kentucky River. WILLIAM HENRY SEWARD. The family of this eminent statesman is traced to a Welsh ancestor, who came to Connecticut in the reign of Queen Anne. A branch of this parent stock removed to New Jersey, where, during the War of the Revolution, Colonel John Seward, the grandfather of the subject of this notice, sustained the character of a zealous patriot, and supporter of the army of Washington. His son, Samuel S. Seward received a liberal education, studied medicine, and marrying Mary Jennings, the daughter of Isaac Jennings, of Goshen, New York, removed in 1795, to Florida, a village in the town of Warwick, Orange County, in that State; where, we are told, he " combined a large mercantile business with an extensive range of professional practice, both of which he carried on successfully for the space of twenty years, when he retired from ac- tive business and devoted himself to the cultivation of the estate, of which, by constant industry and economy, he became the owner." Dr. Seward, an active member of the Republican party of his day, held several offices of pub- lic trust, as a member of the legislature, and was, for many years, first judge of his county. His public spirit was shown in his endowment of a high school or seminary at Florida which was named 2S0 after him, the Seward Institute. He died at an advanced age in 1849, hav- ing survived his wife a few years. Of this parentage William Henry Seward was born, at the family dwel- ling, in Florida, May 16th, 1801. A precocious student, and lover of learn- ing in his childhood, he attended such schools as the neighborhood afforded until the age of nine, when he was sent to Farmer's Hall Academy at Goshen, where he pursued his studies, and at an academy afterwards established in Florida, until his fifteenth year, when his proficiency was such that on pre- senting himself for admission to Union College, Schenectady, he was found qualified for admission to the Junior Class, though on account of his youth he entered the Sophomore. His college career was marked by great industry and ability. His favorite studies, we are told by his biographer, were rhe- toric, moral philosophy, and the ancient classics. It was his custom to rise at four o'clock in the morning and prepare all the lessons of the day, while at night he occupied his leisure with gene- ral reading and literary compositions for declamation or debate in society meet-. ings for which he had early displayed a great aptitude. While in the Senior Class in his eighteenth year, he was ^clli^^ /y^i^r^^ WILLIAM HENRY SEWARD. 281 almost a year from the college, six months of which were passed as a teacher in the State of Georgia. The opinions on the subject of slavery which have, in so marked a manner, governed his political career are said to have had their origin or been greatly strengthened by his experience at this time. Returning to college, he gradu- ated with distinguished eclat. The subject of his commencement oration, " The Integrity of the American Union," has proved, though in an unexpected manner, significant of his career. Mr. Seward now applied himself to the study of the law, in which he had the guidance of three eminent counsel- lors of the State, John Anthon, John Duer, and Ogden Hoffman. He was admitted to the bar of the Supreme Court, at Utica, in 1822, and early in the following year took up his residence in Auburn, where he was associated in business with an eminent member of the profession, Elijah Miller, then first judge of Cayuga County, whose daughter he married in 1824. Devot- ing himself assiduously to his profes- sion, the debating talent of Mr. Seward, and his ability as a public speaker dis- pla}red in numerous popular addresses, naturally drew him into political life. Opposed to the Albany Regency, the Democratic organization which was then all-powerful in the State, he en- tered upon a career of opposition which in due time led to his leadership of the new Whig party. In 1830, he was elected a member of the State Senate, being, it is said, the youngest member that up to that time had entered that body. He now became prominently known by his support of the policy of internal improvements, his advocacy of the abolition of imprisonment for debt, and other liberal measures. In 1833, he visited England and France, and other portions of the continent of Europe, sending home a series of des- criptive letters which were afterward published in the " Albany Evening Journal." In 1834, he was a candidate for Governor of the State, but lost the election. Nominated a second time in 1838, the Whig party, for the first time being now in the ascendant, he was chosen by a majority exceeding ten thousand. Again elected in 1840, at the expiration of his second term, he declined a renomination and retired from the office. The four years which he thus passed in this important posi- tion were marked by unwearied mental activity and diligence, in discharge of the duties of the office. Besides his furtherance of the sytem of internal improvements now so rapidly develop- ing the fortunes of the State, he was prominently interested in a new and more popular organization of the pub- lic Schools, which in its operation upon the existing system in the city of New York, being thought to favor certain claims of the Roman Catholics, gave rise to no little opposition on the part of the so-called Protestant interest. In the complicated questions of interna- tional law growing out of the McLeod case he sustained the rights of the country and the State. On his retire- ment from the office of Governor, Mr. Seward resumed the practice of the law at Auburn, from which he was called in 1849, by his election to the 2b 2 WILLIAM HENRY SEWARD. United States Senate. In this new sphere of duty he acted on a larger theatre the character for usefulness which he had established as State Governor, advocating all means of in- creasing the resources of the country, opening the public lands to settlers, promoting the Pacific Railroad, and other national internal improvements; while he kept steady in view the great principles of freedom with which his public life was identified. It was the period of renewed agita- tion of the relations of the Government to slavery, growing out of the acquisi- tion of territory in the recent war with Mexico. To guard the vast territory of the West, now stretching to the Pacific, from the encroachments of the slave power, was the work of the poli- tical leaders of the country—prominent among whom was Mr. Seward—pledged to the support of a national policy of freedom. The debates on the admission of California gave the new Senator an opportunity to display his peculiar powers. In his able philosophical speech on that occasion, delivered March 11th, 1850, he employed a phrase, The Higher Law, which was taken hold of by his opponents, who endeavored to fasten it as a term of reproach upon his party, as if it had been uttered in opposition to the legal claims of the Constitution. It was, in fact, brought forward by him in sup- port of his interpretation of that in- strument. Speaking of the power of Congress over the territories, "The Constitution," said he, "regulates our stewardship; the Constitution devotes the domain to union, to justice, to de- fence, to welfare, and to liberty. But there is a Higher Law than the Consti- tution, which regulates our authority over the domain, and devotes it to the same noble purposes. The territory is a part, no inconsiderable part, of the common heritage of mankind, bestowed upon them by the Creator of the uni- verse. We are his stewards, and must so discharge our trust as to secure in the highest attainable degree their hap- piness." The statesmen who create the popular watchwords are invariably thinkers; of philosophic perceptions, and powers; and like all philosophers of fertile minds, accustomed to affairs where energy is demanded, their genius has a tendency to express itself in epi- grammatic form. Calhoun was a speak- er of this stamp, John Randolph an- other, and Mr. Seward, whether in speak- ing or writing is constantly making points which are remembered. Seldom. have two words had a profounder signi- fication or been more portentous as a warning of the future than the simple phrase "irrepressible conflict" which he introduced in a speech at Rochester, New York, during the Congressional elections of 18 5 8. He had now, through the administrations of Presidents Fill- more, Pierce, and the first half of Mr. Buchanan's term of office, in opposition to the Fugitive Slave Law, to the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, in the pas- sage of the Kansas and Nebraska Bill, to the attempt to force the Lecompton Constitution upon Kansas, in the Senate anil out of it, opposed every measure favoring the extension of the slave power over the virgin free soil of the nation, and he on this occasion re- WILLIAM HENRY SEWARD. 2S3 minded the country anew of the war- of principles upon which it had, of ne- cessity entered. " Hitherto," said he, in words whose prophetic force he him- self probably did not then fully antici- pate, " the two systems (slave and free labor) have existed in different States, but side by side, within the American Union. This has happened because the Union is a confederation of States. But in another, aspect the United States constitute only one nation. Increase of population, which is filling the States out to their very borders, together with a new and extended net-work of rail- roads and other avenues, and an inter- nal commerce which daily becomes more intimate, are rapidly bringing the States into a higher and more perfect social unity, or consolidation. Thus these antagonistic systems are con- tinually coming into closer contact; and collision results. " Shall I tell you what this collision means ? They who think that it is ac- cidental, unnecessary, the work of in- terested or fanatical agitators, and therefore ephemeral, mistake the case altogether. It is an irrepressible con- flict between opposing and enduring forces, and it means that the United States must and will, sooner or later, become either entirely a slave-holding nation, or entirely a free-labor nation." That nothing revolutionary, of the char- acter of the civil war afterwards brought about, was at this time favored or even imagined by the speaker, we may infer from the qualification which he added expressly to guard against misapprehension. "If," said he, "these States are to again become universally slave-holding, I do not pretend to say with what violations of the Constitu- tion that end shall be accomplished. On the other hand, while I do con- fidently believe and hope that my country will yet become a land of uni- versal freedom, I do not expect that it will be made so otherwise than through the action of the several States cooperat- ing with the federal government, and all acting in strict conformity with their respective Constitutions." Previous to the close of his second senatorial term, Mr. Seward, in 1859, paid a second visit to Europe, extending his tour to Egypt and the Holy Land. He was now looked upon as a promi- nent candidate of the new Republican party for the Presidency, as indeed, he had been regarded by many at the pre- vious election. He had then given his support to Fremont, as he had to Scott in 1852. In 1860, he was supported at the nominating Convention by the delegates of New York, Massachusetts, and six other States, receiving on the first ballot more votes than Mr. Lincoln. Promptly accepting the choice of the latter, he entered heartily into the cam- paign, making numerous speeches, and when the election was gained, was called to the foremost place in the new cabinet as Secretary of State. His unwearied diplomatic activity in his correspondence with foreign nations, bringing into effective use all the re- sources of his cultivated mind, his ready, fluent style, his mental ingenuity, the spring and elasticity with whrch he has maintained the integrity of his country, are matters of the history of to-day. ELISHA KENT KANE. The eminent Arctic voyager was born in Philadelphia, February 3,1820. He was of mixed descent, uniting in his composition many of the finer ele- ments of American national life. His great-grandfather, John Kane, the first of the family who settled in the countiy, was a native of Ireland, adding another to the many instances recorded in these volumes, where dis- tinguished energy and worth are traced to that island. He came to America about the middle of the eighteenth cen- tury, and married the daughter of the Reverend Elisha Kent, a Puritan cler- gyman of Massachusetts. We find the Kanes, subsequently, intermarrying with the Van Rensselaers of New York, the grandmother of the traveller being of the latter family. On the mother's side, he traced his descent from a lady celebrated during the Revolutionary war for her many vir- tues. This was his great-grandmother, Martha Gray, the wife of George Gray. She was of the Moravian faith—her husband of Quaker parentage; but their mild origin did not hinder their activity in the patriotic cause. During the occupation of Philadelphia by the British, Mrs. Gray, who was admirably qualified for such beneficent duties, ministered with unwearied assiduity to 264 the wants of the Amer.can prisoners, assisted by her daughter, the wife of Thomas Leiper, an ardent and efficient patriot soldier, who supported the cause by his purse and his services in the field. The late Judge John K. Kane, the father of the subject of this sketch, married Jane Leiper, the daughter of the couple just described. The early years of their son Elisha— he was the first of a family of seven children—exhibited a childhood of un- usual spirit and activity. The boy was active, j-esolute, afraid of nothing. Courage seemed to be born with him. His biographer, Dr. William Elder, dwells with fondness upon this period of his life, relating various anecdotes of his prompt juvenile hardihood. On one occasion, when he was not more than nine, he interposed to shield his younger brother from a flogging at school. " Don't whip him," said he to the schoolmaster, "he's such a little fellow—whip me." At another time, he is calling four or five bigger boys to account, by climbing the roof of an out- building by the rain-spout, and securing satisfaction from them, in their perilous position, for their annoyance of some girls below. His nerve and spirit gave him the advantage. Another adven- ture, a singular freak for any' boy, was Tainted "hy Aior.so Ji&jjpei >'i.e- latest Pz-wtex/ni/Jh r'hvn life. .< Co i\it,i;;;l,frs, Nc ELISHA K: his climbing a high gable-chimney by night, an ingenious and daring feat— with no other object than the pleasure of doing it. Stories like these show the man in the boy. Meanwhile, he exhibit- ed great reluctance to books and sys- tematic study, and the authority of pre- ceptors, while he amused himself with chemistry, "Robinson Crusoe" and the " Pilgrim's Progress." Reviewing these early days, his biographer remarks: " the boy had not a vice or a fault that could spoil the man; but he had scarcely an inclination that promised success in the life designed for him. There was riding at break-neck speed to be done; trees and rocks to climb; peb- bles to pick; dogs to train; chemistry, geology and geography to explore, with his eyes and fingers on the facts; sketching, whittling and cobbling to do, with other heroics of muscle and wind—all mixed in a medley of matter and system, for which there was no promising precedent, and no prophecy of good." This is not so very meagre a list of acquisitions after all, for a youth under sixteen, who was moreover crammed with some school learning, for we find his father taking him at that age to Yale College for examination. The irregularity of his preparation—his knowledge of the natural sciences was out of proportion to his other acquire- ments—placed him at a disadvantage, and the University of Virginia, where a choice of studies is allowed, was chosen in preference to the New Eng- land institution. It is sad, in the midst of these recitals, thus early to meet with the first whisper of that affection n.—36 3XT KANE 285 of the heart, which afflicted Kane through life and was ultimately the cause of his death. The struggle is soon to come, probably the severest pressure that can be put on a youth of susceptibility and genius, keenly alive to every impression. He made rapid progress at the Virginia University in his favorite study of the natural sci- ences and in mathematics, was explor- ing in field and mountain, and pushing bravely on to his intended life employ- ment as a civil engineer, when he was called away, taken heme, with a severe attack of illness—an inflammation of the lining membrane of the heart. His life was for awhile despaired of. When he partially recovered, it was to learn the danger of his fits of agony, and receive the fatal sentence from the lips of his physician, "You may fall, Elisha, as suddenly as from a musket shot." Here was something to be met which would seem to require all the energy of a strong nature. It was met with the spirit of a hero. The lesson is the grandest presented by the career of this noble spirited man—more valuable to human life than any single result of Arctic exploration. If he that ruleth his spirit is stronger than he who taketh a city, surely the man who turns the very weakness and de- spair of nature to strength and bravery, who rises where most fall, who digests the heaviest grief humanity is capable of, and finds in it the nutriment of true greatness—success even physical as well as mental—surely this man must be pronounced a hero. There was a Spar- tan courage in the words of his father, "Elisha, if you must die, die in the 286 ELISHA KENT KANE. harness." He accepted the advice, and in the striking language of his biogra- pher, "rose out of the wreck resolutely, and retrieved his life in a strength made his own by holding it in fee of chivalric service." There was no at- tempt to escape the bitter knowledge. He met his enemy face to face. Obliged to relinquish the calling of an engineer, he chose the profession of medicine where he would be always in the com- pany of his grim antagonist, and learn, if possible, to master him. At nine- teen he became a diligent student in the office of Dr. William Harris, of Philadelphia, and before he was twenty- one was discharging the duty of resi- dent physician in the Pennsylvania Hospital at Blockley. Though inter- rupted by fits of illness he discharged these double duties of study and prac- tice and received his medical diploma in 1842, with the especial thanks of the University of Pennsylvania from which he graduated," for his able and instruct- ive thesis," on Kyestine. Fifteen years of maimed and wound- ed life were before him. We shall see how they were spent. He started on the career destined to terminate in so brilliant a crowning effort, as a surgeon in the navy, after the usual examina- tion, when his physical infirmities were overlooked for the sake of his other qualifications. There being no vacancy at that moment in the service, calling for the regular discharge of his duty, he was appointed by the influence of his family and friends, physician to the first American Embassy to China, of which Mr. Caleb Cushing was placed at the head. He accordingly sailed in the frigate Brandywine, which was as- signed to the expedition, in May, 1843. He had now in a measure, the oppor- tunity for which he ever afterwards panted, that of constant activity. He was an eager student on ship board and when in port he was bent upon geo- graphical observation. At Rio, where his vessel made a landing, he was ex- amining the geology of the Eastern Andes; at Bombay, where the deten- tion of Mr. Cushing in Europe kept them some time waiting, he explored the antiquities of the coast, and passing to Ceylon, engaged in the gigantic wild sports and studied the grand and beautiful vegetation of the island. At Macao, he gained leave of absence from the embassy, while it prosecuted its slow work of diplomacy, and crossed over and penetrated the island of Luzon, the chief of the Philippines. This last tour in the spring of 1844, was made memorable by his hazardous explora- tion of the volcano of Tael, into which he descended, let down by a rope of bamboo fastened round his body, more than two hundred feet, from a project- ing platform in the mouth of this fear- ful crater. Arrived at the bottom, he traversed the scalding ashes and pro- cured specimens of the water of the smoking lake. The return presented greater difficulties than the descent. Half exhausted, his charred boots fall- ing from his feet, he regained the rope, succeeded in attaching it to his person, and was drawn up from the reeking vapor almost insensible. He was the first European who ever accomplished this piece of hardihood; his companion, who started with him, shrinking from ELISHA KENT KANE. 281 the effort. The natives were not likely to make the attempt, apart from its perils and disagreeable nature, since they, not unnaturally, held the wild sulphurous crater to be the home of some peculiar deity, whose sanctity the American traveller had impiously vio- lated. A party of them were quite disposed to avenge on his person the honor of the insulted divinity, by an assault which was prevented only by a timely show of revolvers. Having satisfied the sentiment in a thorough examination of Luzon, Dr. Kane rejoined his companions of the embassy in time to participate in the closing proceedings and festivals of the treaty at Macao. The mission now being at an end in China, he resigned his position as physician to the legation, and took up his residence for awhile at Whampoa, practising his profession with profit, till his career was interrupted by a severe attack of fever. This determined him to set his face homeward. Arranging with a companion to make the overland jour- ney, and, at the same time, improve the oj)portunity of observation by the way, he visited Singapore, Ceylon and Ilindostan, traversing the interior and ascending the Himilayas. While jour- neying through the countiy, he made the acquaintance of the wealthy noble, Dwakanath Tagore, a native prince about to visit the court of Victoria, in whose suite he traversed Persia and Syria to Egypt. It is to be regretted that we have no accounts of these and other adventures from the pen of Dr. Kane. An occasional brief, scanty letter is all that remains—the pointed phraseology of which makes us the more regret the absence of other re- cords. His papers and journals, in which much that was novel and inte- resting was doubtless written down, comprehending all his previous tours in the east, perished by accident or a fraud of the natives, in his voyage on the Nile. He seems to have entered upon the examination of Egypt with the full exercise of all his powers of study and observation. Looking wdth contempt upon the popular narratives of travel in that region, he plunged into the original works of Cailliaud and Wil- kinson, " with the country itself for my atlas," as he writes from the spot in a letter which has been preserved. " Thanks," he says, " to Dwakanath Ta- gore and the very meagre influence of my China title, I have been elected a member of the Egyptian Society—a somewhat dubious honor which has converted my boat into a library, and condemned me to a fee of two pounds six. Nothing," he adds, " can be more exciting than the intelligent study of Egyptian antiquities." He fell in with Lepsius, then in the midst of the inves- tigations of his Prussian commission, and diligently investigated his learn- ed labors. We find him at Thebes sketching and lodged " in the palace- temple of Sesostris," and tempting the hardships of Upper Egypt and the Desert. A climbing adventure, quite in accordance with the old tastes of his childhood, in attempting to ascend the enormous statue of Memnon by the legs, was attended with considerable peril. His Egyptian tour, of which no 2S8 ELISHA KENT KANE. account beyond a single letter remains, was closed in the early part of the summer of 1845, with " his uniform experience in every grand tour of his life—an attack of the disease distinc- tive of the climate. The anemometers, hygrometers, barometers and thermom- eters of the scientific traveller," adds his biographer, " being no better indi- cators and registers of climatology, than the varied sensitiveness of the constitution he carried with him in all his journeyings." The rice-fever of China was thus succeeded by the plague of Egypt; but some latent energy in his composition carried the traveller through, and we find him in June making the tour of Greece on foot from Athens. He traversed the ancient Bceotia and Phocis, visiting patriotic Thermopylae, the poetic haunts of Helicon and Parnassus, and the orac- ular fount of Delphi; thence crossing the Corinthia Gulf, the modern Lepanto, he explored every portion of the Morea. All this was accomplished in about a month, when he left the western coast of Trieste; thence, in unresting haste, through Germany, Switzerland—study- ing glacier formations—Italy, France and England, home. This rambling about the world suited his disposition, perhaps was essential to his health, a necessity of his impaired constitution. He was anxious to find means to con- tinue it, and made proposals while he was in Europe to the Spanish autho- rities, to practice his profession at Manilla; but somehow the scheme fell through. Arrived at Philadelphia, he turned his ambition, we are told, " upon pro- fessional eminence, with a view to the practice of medicine and teaching, as a lecturer in Philadelphia He took a house in Walnut street, and furnished an office in it with taste and elaborate care. With his medical brethren he kept a full round of engagements— chemical, anatomical, quiz and soiree."1 It was not in his nature long to be content with this comparatively quiet mode of life. War with Mexico was imminent, and he was yet attached to the navy, though he had not been called into the service of that depart- ment. At length, in the spring of 1846, he received orders—to the coast of Africa, and wdth a characteristic resolution and sense of duty, made no effort to escape the call. Once there, of course, he interested himself in the novel objects of the region, and signal- ized his cruise by a visit, accompanying a caravan, to the monster King of Da- homey, witnessing his unparalleled vice and brutality. While his vessel was sailing along the coast to the south- ward, the fever broke out; Dr. Kane attended to the patients, and for a while escaped, when he was stricken down, and after a struggle with the disease of three weeks, was sent home to America, in utter debility, as his only chance of escape with life, by a transport vessel from Liberia;. He ar- rived at Philadelphia in the beginning of April, 1847. It is well to be par- ticular with dates. His life was short, and it is important to observe how closely his few years were crowded with arduous action. Broken in health, almost too ill to 1 Elder's Biography, p. 100. ELISHA KENT KANE. 289 ply his application with effect, his first care, now that he found the naval ser- vice of the Mexican war mostly over, was to solicit government for employ- ment in the. army—so eager was his thirst for honorable activity. Escap- ing again from a new attack of disease, he renewed his application at Washing- ton, and secured a special commission to the commander-in-chief at the head- quarters of the army in Mexico, with instructions to report to the home bu- reau his observations on the state of the field and hospital organization. Dr. Kane started on this expedition from New Orleans, by the way of the Gulf, on the 23d of November, 1847. His voyage to Vera Cruz in the steamer was a perilous one, encountering the force of a powerful norther, which well- nigh wrecked the vessel. The dragoon horses for the army were driven over- board—they were compelled to sacri- fice them for safety—and Kane was on the point of parting with his own spi- rited steed when some friendly officers interposed. On landing, he proceeded toward the capital by the usual route, through Perote and upward, conduct- ed, the latter part of the way, by a renegade spy-company of Mexi- cans, commanded by a notorious bri- gand named Domingues. He was ap- proaching Puebla, on the sixth of January, with this escort, when the party encountered a rival band of Mexicans with several distinguished officers, including General Torrejon, making their way to Orizaba. A con- flict immediately ensued upon the two companies coming upon one another on the crest of a hill on the road, when Domingues and his men were victori- ous. Dr. Kane fought resolutely in this encounter, and Torrejon, with his brother officers and thirty eight rank and file, wrere taken prisoners. In a subsequent successful endeavor to re- strain the cruelty of Domingues, who was about to sabre the captives, Dr. Kane, who had especially in charge the two generals, Gaona and Torrejon, who had surrendered to him, was himself severely wounded in the side by a blow from the butt of a lance, and his noble steed, saved by the officers on the voyage, was fatally pierced by a thrust aimed at his rider. On reaching Pue- bla, Dr. Kane, was attacked with con- gestive typhus fever, the result of his wound and exposure, when he was ten- derly nursed by the wife and daugh- ters of Gaona, whose life he had saved. A circumstance which added to the delicacy of this kindness was the fact, that though Kane had gallantly inter- posed after the conflict in saving the life of the host, it was by his hand that the host's son, Colonel Gaona, received a severe wound during the engage- ment. When he was carried to Mex- ico, at the end of February, still in a disabled condition, Dr. Kane formally reported to the commander-in-chief the inhuman conduct of Domingues. In consequence of his wound, Dr. Kane was unable to join the army in his official capacity; he was pronounced " unfit for duty," and was compelled, reluctantly, to turn his face homeward. He arrived, as usual, worn out and disabled; and, as usual, rallied during the summer, under careful nursing Spite of wounds and diseases, the prin- 290 ELISHA KENT KANE. ciple of life was strong within him. The next winter, in February, he is again on the sea, attached to a store- ship bound for the Mediterranean. A sad letter on the voyage records in words full of agony a threatened attack of lock-jaw, with "an utter, unquali- fied conviction of inevitable death." He returned in his ship by the way of Rio, where he gained strength, to Nor- folk, in September. The beginning of 1850 found him employed on the coast survey in the Gulf of Mexico, luxuri- ating in the tenderness of the southern climate to his sensitive frame, and meanwhile, such was the nature of the man, eagerly waiting the result of his application to the department as a volunteer to join the projected govern- ment Arctic Expedition in search of Sir John Franklin. As the most ad- venturous piece of daring in the ser- vice, the duty, trebly hazardous to his enfeebled constitution, presented to him a peculiar fascination. But he was not one of the class of invalids to rust out. If life was to be short, so much the more necessity for concentrating its moments on the most important acts. There is something sublime, under the circumstances, in the resolve of the man. Henceforth Kane is his own histo- rian in those marvellous narratives of Arctic adventure which confer upon him almost as distinguished fame as a writer as discoverer. Style with him was emphatically the man. Every page is instinct with his emphatic vi- tality. " On the twelfth of May," he commences the narrative of his first voyage, with that picturesque art which was a part of his mind, " while bathing in the tepid waters of the Gulf of Mex- ico, I received one of those courteous little epistles from Washington which the electric telegraph has made so fami- liar to naval officers. It detached me from the coast survey, and ordered me to ' proceed forthwith to New York, for duty upon the Arctic Expedition.' Seven and a half days later, I had ac- complished my overland journey of thirteen hundred miles, and in forty hours more our squadron was beyond the limits of the United States; the department had calculated my travel- ling time to a nicety." The story of Sir John Franklin will always be read with interest—his early voyages and journeys, coeval with the modern efforts at discovery, his last sailing forth, never to return, in 1845; the successive efforts made by the British Government for the recovery of his party, linking many distinguished names to his own; the undying faith and energy of Lady Franklin surviving every disappointment, to be successful in solving the sad problem at last. Such is the general outline of a narra- tive covering a period of fourteen years, crowded with brilliant adventure, stud- ded with the names of Richardson, Ross, Roe, M'Clure, and others, ending with M'Clintock; and firmly incorporated with these, the American DeHaven, Hayes, Kane. The United States ex- pedition, commanded by DeHaven, gallantly undertaken at the instance of Lady Franklin, sailed from New York on the 22d of May, 1850, and consisted of two brigs, the Advance and Rescue presented for the service by Mr. Henry ELISHA KENT KANE. 291 Grinnell, of New York, accepted and officered by the Navy Department. To the former of these vessels, of one hundred and forty-four tons, Dr. Kane was attached, with the rank of passed assistant surgeon. He was personally unknown to his commander DeHaven when they met on the eve of the voy- age, and might readily have been re- jected by him on the score of bodily insufficiency. Indeed, Dr. Kane bore the voyage so ill—he was never proof against sea-sickness—that on the arrival of the Advance at the Whale Fish Islands, at the entrance to Baffin's Bay, when an opportunity for a return home presented itself, Lieutenant DeHaven strongly urged him to avail himself of it. That, however, was not in the pro- gramme of Dr. Kane. He shortly re- covered strength, and proved himself one of the most useful officers of this perilous expedition. The vessels were at Disco Bay on the twenty-fourth of June. July was passed in tugging up Baffin's Bay, between the great central ice field and the coast of Greenland, the end of the month bring- ing the party to Melville Bay; thence, with many hardy ice struggles, de- scending by the northern passage and Lancaster Sound through Barrow Straits to Griffith Island, ascending to an ulti- mate point in Wellington Channel, where,- on the twenty-second of Sep- tember, the land to the north and west was sighted, to which, by right of dis- covery, Captain DeHaven gave the name Grinnell, in honor of the father of the expedition. The arctic winter was now upon them. On the first of October the Advance seemed firmly imbedded for the season in a perma- nent embankment of ice, and the work of preparation for a winter sojourn was commenced. To give greater accom- modation to the men, some five tons of coal were taken from the. hold and re- moved to a convenient position on the ice. On the very day this was done, a huge fissure suddenly cut the Advance in a straight northerly and southerly line from the entire floe on the star- board side. The separated piece, parting a six-inch hawser, " retained the exact impression of the ship's side. There it was, with the gangway stairs of ice- block masonry, looking down upon the dark water." On the port side the ice was fixed and enormous. In this posi- tion the Advance awaited its fate. On the twelfth of October there is this entry in our traveller's diary: " Mid- night. They report us adrift. Wind, a gale from the northward and west- ward. An odd cruise this! The American expedition fast in a lump of ice about as big as Washington Square, and driving, like the shanty on a raft, before the howling gale." Thence, in this prodigious drift, which had borne them up Wellington Channel since the middle of September, down that pas- sage, through the length of Barrow Straits, across Lancaster Sound to Baf- fin's Bay, a passive struggle, if we may use the term, of nine months, for they were not entirely free, on an even keel, till the eighth of June of the following year. Nor let it be supposed that this great transit was without danger or dif- ficulty. In one way the means of com- munication were provided for, without 292 ELISHA KENT KANE. any trouble of making sail; but there were all sorts of perilous sensations to be encountered. What with nipping, grinding, crashing, upheaving and such- like incidents of ice formation, stimu- lated by storms and currents, with the usual severities of the winter in those regions, the expedition was kept in a wholesome state of excitement. The early incidents of the drift were of the most perilous character, when the ves- sels were in momentary expectation of some fatal disaster with the ice about them in motion. It was expected they would be crushed in the fearful en- counter, and at one time in December the company of the Rescue left the brig to take refuge with the Advance, where the prospect was little better. A few words of Dr. Kane's diary may be taken as an index to many pages: " Now the little knapsack is made up again, and the blanket sewed and strapped; the little home Bible at hand, and the ice- clothes ready for a jump." At times, the prospect of taking to the ice would not admit of the sledges which had been prepared being employed, the water about the vessel hardly furnish- ing a foothold; at others, the mess was marshalled for drill and practice, " -with a sledge and four hundred pounds of provender." The timbers and strongly braced cross-beams of the vessel vi- brated " so as to communicate the pecu- liar tremor of a cotton factory." Dr. Kane, meanwhile, studied the heavens, the mid-cbty sun on the horizon, pre- ceding the mid-day moonlight; occa- sionally enjoyed a tramp on his ice platform, and sometimes lectured to the crew in the evenings on topics of popular science, the atmosphere, the barometer, etc. " They are not a very intellectual audience," he observes; " but they listen with apparent interest, and express themselves gratefully.'1 Christmas came, and they feasted, laughing and joking, of course with a sober under current of home thoughts. " It was curious," writes Kane, " to ob- serve the depressing influences of each man's home thoughts, and absolutely saddening the effort of each man to im- pose upon his. neighbor, and be very boon and jolly. We joked incessantly, but badly; and laughed incessantly, but badly too." At any rate, they ate, and drank Mr. Grinnell's health, and tumbled up on deck to theatricals, where, under protection of course, the thermometer was six degrees below zero, kindly moderating to four. They had the " Blue Devils," which required a great deal of prompting. " Megrim, with a pair of seal skin boots, bestowed his gold upon the gentle Annette; and Annette, nearly six feet high, received it with mastodonic grace. Annette was an Lishman named Daly, and I might defy human being to hear her, while balanced on the heel of her boot, ex- claim, in rich masculine brogue, * Och, feather!' without roaring." A joke is a thousand-fold a joke in an Arctic drift. Think of celebrating Washing- ton's birthday, as was done on board of the Advance, with the mercury of the ship's thermometer, outside, minus forty-six, " inside, among audience and actors, by aid of lungs, lamps and hous- ings, we got as high as thirty degrees below zero, only sixty-two below the freezing point!—probably the lowest ELISHA KENT KANE. 293 atmospheric record of a theatrical re- presentation." But our object here is not to paint the rigors of an Arctic winter—only to afford a glimpse of Dr. Kane's endurance, and his cheerfulness and resources under adverse circum- stances. Theatrical performances were, of course, but occasional; the daily du- ties were constant, and foremost among them was the preservation of health for future labors, and of this the charge of course fell to the surgeon of the Ad- vance. The success of the expedition in this respect was greatly owing to his example and energy. After a visit to the Greenland settle- ments of Proven and Uppernavik, an unsuccessful attempt was made to cross the pack with a view to resuming the search through Wellington Channel, when Capt. DeHaven, following his in- structions, turned homewTards. The Al- liance reached New York, September 30, 1851; the Rescue, shortly afterwards. Kane was no sooner home than he turned his attention to a second expe- dition to the region he had left behind him. It was his desire at first to start the ensuing spring, but other duties were in store for him—the most serious, attendance at the bedside of a dying younger brother, a youth of fifteen, another heroic member of the family. Then his book, the account of his voyage, was in preparation, and the exacting, unaccustomed labor taxed his strength heavily. He appears to have published nothing before, if we except his medi- cal treatise; his letters do not seem to have been frequent, and though, when he did take pen in hand, he always wrote to the purpose, it was evidently VOL. II.—'-,7 altogether from impulse, not from any great desire or trained habit of waiting. This, while it was an advantage to him in one respect, was an inconvenience in another. It gave to his writing an un- hackneyed spirit and freshness; but when method and exactness were re- quired and his fastidiousness could not dispense with them, dash and brilliancy could serve him little. They could not spare him the drudgery which belongs more or less tp all regular authorship, especially with topics of a scientific nature. When the book was written, it proved a bright, intelligent picture of its subject, and an honest representa- tion of the man, perfectly self-reflecting and as remarkably modest and truthful. His ready use of his pencil in the illus- trations which he added to the book, showed the taste and capacity of a good artist, and were admirable accom- paniments to his picturesque language. This work which, in recognition of the joint nature of the exploration, bore the title, "The United States Grinnell Expedition in Search of Sir John Frank- lin—A Personal Narrative," was going through the press, having been delayed on the eve of publication, in December, by the fire of the Messrs. Harpers' es- tablishment in New York, where it was printed, when its author started on his second Arctic journey. This was still more of a private enterprise than the other. Mr. Grinnell again furnished the Advance, the eminent merchant, Mr. Peabody, paid largely, the Geo- graphical and other societies made important contributions, the Navy De- partment, at Washington, also lent its aid; while Dr. Kane, himself, bestowed 294 ELISHA KENT KANE. considerable sums, the proceeds of lec- tures delivered by him the previous winter, on Arctic discovery. By the intelligent aid of Mr. Kennedy, at the time Secretary of the Navy, an order had been issued, connecting the Expe- dition to a certain extent with the government. His plan was to unite an overland expedition with his mari- time adventure, to sail to a northern point of Greenland, disembark, and tra- verse the country on sledges to an open Polar sea, of which he inferred the exis- tence, when he might examine the coast lines for traces of the missing Sir John Franklin and his men. The Advance, with Dr. Kane as its commander, Henry Brooks, first-officer, Dr. Isaac J. Hayes, surgeon, August Sontag, astronomer, and a crew of four- teen men, ten sent by the navy depart- ment, set sail from New York on her second voyage, on the 30th May, 1853. The instructions of the Secretary of the Navy, in accordance with the plans of Dr. Kane, were " t,o conduct an over- land journey, from the upper waters of Baffin's Bay to the shores of the Polar Seas." Traversing the waters of Baffin's Bay, the Advance penetrat- ed with difficulty the upper waters along the coasts of Greenland, till her further movements were finally ar- rested by the ice, in the distant lati- tude 78° 43' N, reached at the end of August. On the tenth of September, the brig was fairly frozen in at a spot, named by Dr. Kane, Rensselaer Har- bor, and there, on the eighth of June, 1855, she was finally abandoned. This interval of twenty-one months, inclu- ding the rigors of two winters, spent under terrific hardships, comprehends the period of exploration- and discov- ery of the expedition; if we may ex- cept from this honorable- designation, the severe trials and experiences of the final retreat. It was variously occupied in tours of examination along the far coast of Greenland to the open north- ern sea., the discovery of which con- firmed to a great extent, the previous theories of the commander. The his- tory of these explorations, vividly re- corded in the pages of Dr. Kane's volumes, presents one of the most for- midable struggles ever encountered with the obstacles of nature, by the courage and physical strength of man. To the absolute privations of cold were added the most fearful forms of spas- modic disease in lock-jaw, which, like the pestilence of Apollo among the Trojans, extended its ravages to the swift dogs—a main dependence of the party. Fifty-seven of these indispensa- ble animals, procured on the voyage at the Esquimaux settlements below, perished the first season, while the men were racked ^vith these unaccustomed tortures in " the lengthened cold and darkness." In March, a party was or- ganized for exploration from the brig, under Mr. Brooks. They were met, on the ninth day, by a heavy gale, with the thermometer fifty-seven de- grees below zero; the leader and three of his companions were so frozen as to be incapable of further motion, and were left with one atten- dant, while the rest returned to the Advance for succor. Dr. Kane took the command of the relief party, pro- videntially struck the trail, and reached ELISHA KENT KANE. 295 the small canvas tent of his comrades, almost covered with the snow-drift. Twice he fainted on the way in the snow, in this unbroken march of twenty- one hours, with the thermometer in the neighborhood of fifty degrees below zero. The return to the brig was equally hazardous. The invalids were packed in bales on the single sledge, and so they were borne over and around the ridgy hummocks of that fearful march by their companions. Life Avas preserved only by a hand to hand fight with death, and at the end of a journey of eighty-one sleepless hours out of eighty-four, there was not one, says Kane, whose mind was found to be unimpaired. Jefferson Baker, one of the party, died within two days of lock-jaw. Other journeys, determining the coast line, were undertaken in April and May, under the command of Dr. Kane, and in June by Dr. Hayes. And in the next month, William Morton, with Hans Heindrick, penetrating to the most distant point yet reached in this direction, at the latitude of about eighty-one, discovered to the north- west, a channel and the expected open sea. There, looking forth "from a height of four hundred and eighty feet, which commanded an horizon of almost forty miles, his ears were gladdened with the novel music of dashing waves; and a surf, breaking in among the rocks at his feet, stayed his farther progress."1 Morton gratefully called this cape after the name of his com- mander, but Kane, with characteristic 1 Kane's 2d Expedition, I. 305. modesty, named it Constitution. To the vast northerly inland region of Greenland, he gave the name Washing- ton. The hardships of the second winter endured-by the brig's company were an aggravation of those of the first. The health of the men was greatly im- paired, and their scant provision com- pelled them to use articles of food which induced scurvy. " Mr. Bonsall and myself only," says Kane of this trying time, " remained able to attend upon the sick and carry on the daily work of the ship, if that name could still appropriately designate the bur- row which we inhabited." " A set of scurvy-riddled, broken-down men," he elsewhere calls his company at this time. It was a matter of duty, Kane thought, to stand by his vessel, and not risk the chances of leaving her on the edge of winter; but, thinking the case a peculiar one, he left his men free to follow their own determination. Con- sequently, at the end of August, eight of the party, with Dr. Hayes, the sur- geon of the expedition, having received a liberal portion of the supplies, set out on their journey to the settlements. The hardships which they experienced, recounted in Dr. Hayes' published nar- rative, like the books of his commander, a memorable record of courage and en- durance, confirmed the worst anticipa- tions from their setting out. They were obliged to return to the ship in Decem- ber from their protracted journey. These, however, or the like adventures were to be repeated by all in the early summer of the next year, when the vessel was abandoned, and a journey 296 ELISHA KENT KANE. partly by boats, partly by sledges, en- countering the most arduous difficulties of Arctic travel, brought the company to Upernavik on the sixth of August, 1855. There they took passage in a Danish vessel, with the expectation of being landed at the Shetland Isles, when, touching on the voyage at Disco Bay, they wTere opportunely met by the vessels, the Relief and Advance, sent out by the government, under the command of Captain Hartstene, for their recovery. The meeting of the friends in the harbor—terminating the long series of trials of Kane and the brave and adventurous voyaging of Hartstene—simply but vividly narrated in the closing passages of Dr. Kane's second narrative, is a meet conclusion of these heroic wanderings. " We were on the eve of setting out," says Kane in these last sentences, alluding to the Danish vessel then at Lievely, "when the look-out man at the hill-top an- nounced a steamer in the distance. It drew near, with a barque in tow, and we soon recognized the stars and stripes of our own country. The Faith1 was lowered for the last time into the water, and the little flag which had floated so near the poles of both hemi- spheres, opened once more to the breeze. . . . Presently we were alongside. An officer, whom I shall ever remem- ber as a cherished friend, Captain Hartstene, hailed a little man in a ragged flannel shirt, ' Is that Dr. Kane V and with the ' Yes!' that followed, the rigging was manned by our country- men, and cheers welcomed us back to 1 The boat which they had brought from the Advance, now preserved at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. the social world of love which they represented." The party reached New York on the eleventh of October, and the city and country hailed their arrival; for seve- ral years of trial on that distinguished theatre of action had fixed the minds of the people upon these gallant adven- turers. The extent of the interest cre- ated may be judged by the avidity with which the somewhat expensive narra- tive of the last voyage was subscribed for—the sale reaching in one year the hitherto unprecedented number, for a work of the kind, of sixty-five thousand copies. In the preparation of this work Kane was soon diligently en- gaged ; but, as he had left his previous book on its completion to sail to the north, so he was compelled to run away from the completed manuscript of the second—to regain the health, if possi- ble, which he had lost while writing it. He dates his preface the fourth of July, but the appendix continued to occupy him. The book had just been pub- lished when its author sailed to Europe from New York in the Collins' steamer Baltic, the tenth of October, 1856, "accompanied," in the words of Dr. Elder, "by the faithful Morton, who had gone with him to the world's end, and was now to go with him to the end of his life." Consumptive symp- toms were now added to his old diffi- culties, which were aggravated by the fogs of London at the untimely season of his arrival. He passed but eight days'in the capital, and was too ill to attend the meeting of the Royal Geo- graphical Society, which sent its Presi- dent to his lodgings with its resolutions ELISHA KENT KANE. 297 of admiration. Following medical ad- vice, he sailed immediately for a warmer latitude in the West Indies, reached St. Thomas, became fearfully ill on his voyage thence to Cuba, which he reach- ed on Christmas Day. Herej at Havana, joined by his mother and brother from New York, he lingered out the feeble remnant of life till the day of his death, having just completed his thirty-seventh year, the sixteenth of February, 1857. Every honor was paid the remains of the voyager whose fate it was to die in the city which held the ashes of Columbus. The University and the authorities of Havana, the citizens of New Orleans, of Louisville, Cincinnati, Columbus, Baltimore, through which cities his body was conducted in one great funeral procession to Philadel- phia, marked the occasion by appro- priate ceremonies. The services at Philadelphia were peculiarly imposing. His remains were finally laid in the family tomb at Laurel Hill cemetery. The superiority of mind to body never had a more striking illustration than in the case of Dr. Kane. He tri- umphed by sheer energy of will. The fiery spirit which might have worn out others quickened and exalted him. In his vivid conceptions and striking lan- guage he was essentially a poet—one of those who lives thrice the life of common men in quickness and sensibi- lity. So that we may not pronounce his life short or* his death untimely. His eager spirit wrung from fate a triumph ant experience seldom granted even to fourscore. He achieved fame and suc- cess in the eye of the world in a noble sphere of action, and has left a most enduring monument of his exertions in his truthful and eloquent writings. Had he lived, he doubtless would have added to his fame a great reputation in science, upon which his mind was bent; but he has left enough in this depart- ment to cause his name for that also to be permanently remembered CHARLES WILKES. Tnis eminent naval officer was born in the city of New York, in the year 1801. Of a family and connexions of high standing in the community, he cl ose the navy for a pursuit, at a time when its heroes of the war of 1812 were at the height of their reputation, and the enticements of the profession were most fascinating to an ingenuous youth. He entered the service about the age of fifteen. He was with Com- modore McDonough on the Mediter- ranean station, in 1819 and 1820, and the following year with Commodore Stewart on the Pacific, where he ac- quired a reputation by his services which gained him a separate command. He was promoted in 1826, to a lieute- nancy. In 1830, he was appointed to the charge of the depot of charts and instruments at Washington, when, says his biographer, in "Appleton's Cyclo- paedia," " he was the first in the United States to set up fixed astronomic instru- ments and observe with them. The observatory was in his own garden, where he was prevented from enclosing in a permanent structure the stone piers to which his instruments were attached, by an informal notice from the Navy Department that a National Observatory was unconstitutional." He was subsequently engaged in a diffi- -.208 cult and successful survey of George's Bank. When the United States Government had, after many suggestions on the sub- ject, finally resolved, agreeably to the precedents of various European nations, upon setting on foot a National Ex- ploring Expedition on a liberal scale, Lieutenant Wilkes was chosen its com- mander. The act of Congress author- izing the expedition, was passed in the spring of 1836. Its main object was to facilitate American commerce in the interests of the whale fisheries and other advantages in the vast middle and South Pacific ocean, by a thorough exploration of.that sea with its various groups of islands, and the preparation of accurate charts for the safety of future voyagers. Ample provision was made in the appointment of scientific men of well settled reputation, to take charge of the different departments of observation. Two naturalists, Charles Pickering and T. R. Peale; a mineral- ogist, James D. Dana; a botanist, Wil- liam Rich; a philologist, Horatio Hale; two draughtsmen, Joseph Drayton and Alfred Agate, were among the persons of this class assigned to the expedition. Five vessels were selected for the ser- vice, the sloops of war Vincennes and Peacock, the brig Porpoise, and two 'nhii shirs. New Votk 163403 CHARLES WILKES. 299 New York pilot boats converted into the tenders renamed Sea-gull and Fly- ing Fish. These constituted the squad- ron of which Lieutenant Wilkes was appointed commander. His instruc- tions, prepared by the Secretary of the Navy, the eminent author J. K. Paul- ding, marked out the track of the ex- pedition. It was to sail from Norfolk by way of Rio Janeiro to the Rio Negro and Terra del Fuego, where the Porpoise, with the tenders, was to pro- ceed to an exploration of the southern antarctic. Rejoining its comrades, the whole squadron, after sweeping a vast track of the southern ocean, were to put in to Valparaiso for supplies, visit next various groups of islands, the Naviga- tors, Feejee and others, making for Sydney in New Holland, whence a second attempt was to be made to penetrate within the antarctic region south of Van Dieman's land. The Sandwich Islands, with the north west coast of America, Oregon, and Cali- fornia were afterward to be visited, when the expedition, coming to the Sea of Japan and the coasts of China, was to return home by the way of the Cape of Good Hope. Such was the compre- hensive plan entrusted to Lieutenant Wilkes and his able coadjutors. Its execution occupied nearly four years from the date of leaving Norfolk in August, 1838, to the return to New York in June, 1842. The design was successfully carried out, the various lands indicated were visited, and abun- dant observations taken of their poli- tical, social, physical, and material con- ditions ; of what nature had done for them, and how man was employing his I opportunities. In addition to the sur- vey of regions within the usual path of commerce, the adventure and ori- ginal observations in the antarctic cruise in the beginning of 1840, en- titled the expedition to the honors of discovery. For this and other con- tributions to scientific knowledge in this extensive voyage, Lieutenant Wilkes was awarded the gold medal of the Geographical Society of London. In 1845, he published his "Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition," in five volumes, amply illustrated by the artists who accompanied him. It is not merely an interesting account of the various vicissitudes and sea-adven- tures of the voyage, but a valuable summary of the multifarious knowledge acquired in the different departments of the expedition. In 1849, commander Wilkes pub lished a second work entitled " Western America, including California and Ore gon," which was welcomed for its im- portant contributions to the knowledge of a region whose sudden rise as the seat of empire on the Pacific was to be a wonder even among the rapid tri umphs of American civilization. Cap- tain Wilkes—he attained the rank in 1855—continued to be employed in home duty till, in the first year of the rebellion, he was sent in command of the steamsloop San Jacinto, to the coast of Africa. It was on his return from this voyage that an event occurred which brought Captain Wilkes pro- minently before the world and en- grafted his name on the history of maritime jurisprudence. On his approach to the American 300 CHARLES WILKES. coast, Captain Wilkes, at the island of St. Thomas, learning of the movements of the Confederate war vessel Sumter, went in search of her in the Gulf of Mexico. Hearing that the Confederate ambassadors Messrs. Mason and Slidell had escaped the blockade of Charles- ton, and were on their way to Europe, he resolved to intercept them. The vessel in which they had embarked reached Havana, where the ambassa- dors took passage in the British steamer Trent. Assuring himself to his satis- faction of his legal rights in the pre- mises, Captain Wilkes determined to lie in wait for the Trent and remove her " contraband " passengers. He ac- cordingly, on the eighth of November, 1861, stopped the Trent in the Ba- hama Channel, off the coast of Cuba, and demanded the surrender of the " ambassadors." The proceeding was conducted with all due courtesy, but naturally in the existing temper of British officials, produced something of a scene on board the steamer. " Much persuasion," says Captain Wilkes, " was employed, and a little force," when the ambassadors and their secretaries of the legation were secured and carried off in triumph. On the 15th, the San Jacinto, with her extraordinary passen- gers, reached Hampton Roads, whence she proceeded to New York, where she was met by an order to carry the prisoners to Fort Warren, in Boston harbor. At Boston, at New York, and elsewhere, Captain Wilkes was feted for his energetic proceeding, which was generally commended. The lawyers approved of the act, and Captain Wilkes justified the arrest of the am- bassadors as " the embodiment of des- patches," a solution as ingenious as General Butler's solution of the negro difficulty in an early period of the war, by liberating and employing the colored man under the new name which he gave him of " contraband." Congress also, at the opening of the session, en- dorsed the act, but the Government did not commit itself. The subject passed into the hands of Mr. Seward, the Secretary of State, who, anticipat- ing the demands of England, held the affair open for diplomatic consideration. The claims of Great Britain were con- sequently met with dignity, anrl though Messrs. Mason and Slidell were sur- rendered, some important American principles regarding the rights of neu- trals were established in the dis cussion. Subsequently to this affair, in 1862, Captain Wilkes was raised to the rank of Commodore, and in August of that year was placed in command of the flotilla in James' River. He afterward, as acting Rear Admiral, sailed in com mand of a squadron sent in quest of the Confederate privateers or vessels of war in the West Indies. Pa.1nted.~b7" Alonzo Chafrpel WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH. Tnrs distinguished officer of the Mex- ican war, who led his gallant division in so many important actions from the first arrival of General Taylor at the Rio Grande to the last victory of Gen- eral Scott at the capital, was born in Hudson, Columbia county, New York, March 1, 1794. His family was of an old New England stock. We are told, in the brief accounts of his life which have been published, little of his early education. He appears to have been well instructed in the ordinary English branches, and being a youth of decided ability, he needed little more to ad- vance him in the world. It is said that when he was quite young he was en- gaged as a clerk in a store at Albany; but he could not have been long em- ployed in merchandise, for we find him at the age of eighteen, on the breaking out of the war of 1812, occupied in the service of General Morgan Lewis as his secretary, and in the spring of the fol- lowing year accompanying that officer to the scene of military operations on the Canada frontier with the rank of lieutenant. In the capture of Fort George, in the month of May, he acted as aid to General Lewis, and in the fol- lowing November reappears in the en- gagement at Chrystler's Farm on the St. Lawrence, his name being especially ii.—38 mentioned with honor in the dispatch of General Boyd, who commanded on that occasion. He continued in service on the fron- tier, and in the spring of the following year was diligently employed in study- ing the art of war in the drill operations and manoeuvres of General Scott's cele- brated "Camp of Instruction" at Buf- falo. We learn this from the correspon- dence which passed between the young officer and his friend General Lewis, who invited him in June to New York to become once more a member of his military family. It was on the eve of the movement of Scott's brigade toward the field of Chippewa that the ardent young soldier replied, " having partici- pated in three months' fatigues of the Camp of Instruction, the enemy being within striking distance, separated only by the Niagara, which we cross on the morrow, and the battlefield in view will, I trust, excuse my choice. The campaign promises to be a stirring one, and you, I am sure, would not pardon my leaving." A few days after this manly letter was sent the battle of Chijypewa was fought, and how well the writer kept the promise of his epistle on that occa- sion is witnessed in the generous tri- bute of General Scott to his merits in 301 302 WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH. the field, where he served as one of his aids. "His zeal and intrepidity won the admiration of the whole brigade." He also received the acknowledgment of his services in promotion to the rank of captain. He was, again, in the sequel of this fight in the campaign, the still more deadly engagements at Niagara and Lundy's Lane. In that series of close encounters few who did their duty could escape, and Worth, like the brave officer whom he served, bore with him painful proof of valor from the field. He was incapacitated for further duty in the war now approaching its close by his severe wound; but he bore with him to his retirement the dearest rewards of the soldier in the honors of that brilliant campaign on the Niag- ara River. " The conduct of Captain Worth, my aid-de-camp," wrote Gene- ral Scott in his dispatch to the war department, " was marked with his usual skill and gallantry. I had already derived much benefit from his services, when he received a wound, at the mo- ment believed to be mortal, in the act of passing through a blaze of fire to communicate an order. His conduct in this second affair will not only bear a comparison with his own services in the first, but with the services of any other officer of his rank in either action." In recompense for these dis- tinguished services, he received the fur- ther rank of major. Major Wort! was for a year con- fined to his bed and room by his wound, which left him with a lameness for life. On his recovery he was appointed commandant at West Point, and served for many years at that mili- tary academy as instructor of tactics. In 1824, he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel. In 18 32, he received his commission as major of ordnance. In 1835, he was voted a sivord by the legislature of New York for his ability as an officer and for his personal bravery in the battles of the late war with Great Britain. In 1838, as colo- nel of the eighth regiment of infantry, he was employed on the Niagara fron- tier in allaying the disturbance excited by the insurgent Bill Johnson, in what is known as the patriot war. His firm- ness and consideration in the discharge of this delicate duty exhibited the higher qualities of the soldier. It was his good fortune, also, after the laborious efforts of many distinguished officers who had taken part in the vex- atious struggle, to bring the Florida war to a termination. He was the last officer placed in command by the gov- ernment in that region, succeeding Gen- eral Armistead at the head-quarters of the army at Tampa Bay, on the 31st of May, 1841. The war had then been in progress for more than five years accumulating about the army a herd of camp followers, civilians who fattened on the government contracts for pro- visions, transportation, and the numer- ous necessities of the army in this novel and difficult region. "The army of Florida," says the historian of the war, " had become a component part of a civil government, to which it was in many respects subservient. The influ- ences operating were unmilitaryin cha- racter and effect."1 It was necessary 1 Sprague's Florida War, p. 268. WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH. 303 to break through this system as well as to follow up the enemy with vigor. The first order of the new commander exhibits the spirit with which he encountered the work before him. It enjoins that all expenditures of money on account of barracks, etc., at tempo- rary posts, except such slight covering as might be indispensable, must be first sanctioned at head-quarters; it revokes all safeguards and passports granted to Indians, thus cutting off a prolific source of treachery; it requires the incessant scouring of the country adja- cent to the numerous posts, removing all restraints previously imposed upon district commanders in respect to offen- sive field operations, and provides for three reports each month of the results of this activity. The energy imparted by proceedings like these brought the war to an early termination. In April, 1842, Colonel Worth himself directed the movements and bore part in the decisive engagement which led to the capture of the redoubtable chieftain Halleck Tus- tenuggee, the last formidable supporter of the war. The greater part of the remaining hostile Indians were removed from the country, and in August the pacification was pronounced complete. Worth, ever acquitting himself with honor where distinction was attainable, always came out of his campaigns with fresh promotion. His well-earned titles were the result of actual service. Thus, as we have seen, his conduct at Chip- pewa and Niagara followed by his bre- vet commissions as captain and major, and his lieutenant-colonelship following " ten years faithful service in the grade of brevet major;" so, for his " gallantry and highly distinguished services as commander of the forces in the war against the Florida Indians," he re- ceived, in August, 1842, the commis- sion of brigadier-general by brevet. On the first movement of the army of occupation toward the Rio Grande, the initial step of the war with Mexico, General Worth was with the force of General Taylor, gallantly leading the way in the first venturous crossing of the Colorado. When the army reached its station opposite Matamoras, he was employed in the preliminary conferences with the Mexican authorities at that place. In one of these unsatisfactory negotiations he was met by General Vega, with whom he sustained a spi- rited colloquy on the relations of the two countries. The replies of General Worth were direct and to the point. " Is it," he was asked, " the intention of General Taylor to remain on the left bank of the Rio Grande?" "Most assuredly," was his answer, " and there to remain until directed otherwise by his government." The Mexican Gene- ral thereupon expressed his indignation at seeing the American flag on the bank of the river on Mexican territory. "That," replied Worth, "is a matter of taste; but notwithstanding, there it would remain." He also remarked that General Mejia, then in chief com- mand at Matamoras, might, " by a very simple operation, determine when and where the war should begin, but it would be for the United States to say when and where it should end."x Owing to some unlucky agitation of 1 Thorpe's " Our Army on the Rio GraDde," p. 22. 3^4 WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH. a point of etiquette, which led to his resignation of his commission, General Worth was not present in the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, but their echoes speedily called him again to the field. He withdrew his resig- nation, hastened to the camp at Mata- moras, and in the subsequent advance upon Monterey was entrusted with one of the most important movements of the siege. He had the independent command of the operations on the west- ern side of the town, General Taylor himself personally directing those on the east and south. The success of both was indispensable to the successful issue of the 23d of September. Gene- ral Worth turned the greater works of the city and cut off the enemy's retreat on their rear, making a simultaneous advance into the heart of the city with the storming parties from the other side. This advantage was not, however, gained without hard fighting. He had first to take some formidable defences which lay in his path. On the 21st, he directed the storming of the works commanding on one side of the valley the approach to the town—the forts named Federacion and Soldado. They were gallantly carried under his orders, and the advantage of position thus gained led the next day to the conquest of the chief remaining work on that side, the fortified hill on which the Bishop's Palace was situated. The city was then open to the invaders. On the morning of the 23d, General Worth, hearing a heavy fire from the opposite quarter, concluded that a main attack by General Taylor was in progress, and resolved to second it by storming the town. The details of the operation, as given in his dispatch, will show some- thing of the courage and spirit with which this contest, on the third day of hard fighting, was carried on. An attack like this, in open daylight in the streets of a city where every house was in a measure a fortress, could hardly be excelled in peril. "Two columns of attack were organized, to move along the two principal streets, leading from our position in the direction of the great plaza, composed of light troops slightly extended, with orders to mask the men whenever practicable; avoid those points swept by the enemy's artil- lery ; to press on to the first plaza, Ca- pella; to get hold of the ends of the streets beyond, then enter the build- ings, and by means of picks and bars break through the longitudinal section of the walls; work from house to house, and, ascending to the roofs, to place themselves upon the same breast-height with the enemy. Light artillery by sections and pieces followed at suitable intervals, covered by reserves to guard the pieces, and the whole operation against the probable enterprises of ca- valry upon our left. This was effec- tually done by seizing and command- ing the head of every cross street. The streets were, at different and well-cho- sen points, barricaded by heavy ma- sonry walls, with embrasures for one or more guns, and in every instance well supported by cross batteri es. These arrangements of defence gave to our operations at this moment a compli- cated character, demanding much care and precaution; but the work went on steadily, simultaneously and success- WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH. 305 fully. About the time our assault com-1 menced, the fire ceased from our force in the opposite quarter. Disengaged on the one side, the enemy was enabled to shift men and guns to our quarter, as was soon manifested by accumula- tion of fire. At dark we had worked throiiirh the walls and squares, and reached to within one block of the great plaza, leaving a covered-way in our rear; carried a large building which towered over the principal defences, and during the night and ensuing morning, crowned its roof with two howitzers and a six-pounder. All things were now prepared to renew the assault at dawn of day, when a flag was sent in, asking a momentary suspension of fire, which led to the capitulation upon terms so honorable to our arms."* At the head of the American commissioners who negotiated this capitulation stood General Worth, and to him was appro- priately assigned the government of the town when the enemy withdrew. The department at Washington again re- sponded to the gallant deeds of Briga- dier-General Worth, conferring upon him by a commission dated May 4,1847, the rank of major-general by brevet, from the 23d September, 1846, the day of the surrender, " for gallant and meri- torious conduct in the several conflicts at Monterey." After these scenes, General Worth was stationed with his division at Sal- tillo, prepared to take part in the on- ward expedition of General Taylor into the heart of Mexico, when the move- ments of that line of the army were 1 General Worth's Report to Major Bliss, Monterey, Septembei 28, 1846. suddenly arrested to favor the new campaign under General Scott, directed to the capital by way of Vera Cruz. Foremost among the forces of the army of the Rio Grande, diverted to the ap- proaching enterprise, was the command of regulars under General Worth. He made preparations for his departure to the new scene of operations in Janu- ary, and was with General Scott at the first landing of his forces at Vera Cruz. To him was accorded the post of honor in leading the way in the disembarka- tion of the troops, and when this bril- liant operation of the 9th of March, 1847, was successfully accomplished, to Worth's division was assigned the im- portant position on the southeast of the city. His brigade had its full share of the arduous duties of the invest- ment and siege—duties formidable under any circumstances, but enhanced in this case by the inclemency of the climate and the want of the usual facilities for land operations. The bat- teries, however, once in order, were served with terrible effect, and the result was the capitulation on the twenty-seventh of the month, negoti- ated on the part of the Americans by a commission, of which General Worth was placed at the head. He had per- formed the like service, as we have seen, at Monterey, and again, as at that place, was placed in command of the conquered city. He remained at Vera Cruz, organi- zing his military government of the city and castle, till the army took its departure toward the capital, when he followed with his division, coming up i in time to take part in the first great 306 WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH. action at the pass of Cerro Gordo. He led his brigade in the arduous service on the left of the Mexican line, sup- porting General Twiggs in turning the enemy's position, and when the heights were conquered and the foe discom- fited and flying, he pursued them with his division with characteristic en- ergy, entering Jalapa in advance of the army on the day after the battle, the 19th of April, and leading on his men to the occupation of the town and castle of Perote on the twenty-second. Still in advance, on the 15th of May, General Worth entered Puebla. There the army rested, the Home Government credulously intent on peace negotiations and slowly forwarding the means of continuing the war. At length, rein- forcements having arrived, and the troops having been kej)t in an efficient state of drill under the eye of such experienced masters of tactics as the commander-in-chief, General Worth and his associates, the army began its march on the 7th of August for the city of Mexico. The disposition of the troops, it will be remembered, in this last great move- ment of the army, was at first on the near approaches to the city of Mexico by the national road, the advance post being as far advanced as Ayotla, lead- ing to the eastern entrance of the city. It was General Scott's grand strategic plan, however, not to encounter the formidable defences on this side, but to turn them if possible by a rounda- bout movement, through the rugged, but, as it proved, not insurmountable region, which was less defended, to the westward. In this retrograde move- ment round the Lake of Chalco, the troops stationed in the rear came to lead the advance, and as General Worth's first division was in such a position, it fell to him to open the way by the new road cut by the army as it proceeded to the south and west of the lake. On the 17th of August, after a march of some difficulty, he occupied San Augustin, which was taken as the base of the new operations. His divi- sion thus constituted the right wing of the army, the left being pushed toward the enemy's defences at Contreras. In front of him was the fortified position of San Antonio. The heights of Con- treras were gallantly stormed by Gene- ral Smith on the morning of the twen- tieth, and simultaneously with this brilliant success, General Worth had advanced from his position before San Augustin, driven the enemy out of San Antonio, and pushed on to the in trench ments at Cherubusco, where he opened the engagement. The por- tion of the victory which fell to his division was at the bridge or tUe-de- pont, which was taken by his second brigade of infantry at the point of the bayonet. The capture of this position determined the day. It became a means of assault upon the remaining defences; the enemy, including the large reserve of Santa Anna, was overpowered, and Mexico practically opened to the invaders. General Worth, ardent as ever in pursuit, fol- lowed the flying enemy to the very gates of the crty. It was his fortune to be employed in the most adventurous operations of I this war to its very close. To him, WILLIAM JENKINS WORTH. 307 when hostilities, after another brief interval for ineffectual peace negotia- tions, had been resumed, was com- mitted the attack on the works of Molino del Rey, dominated by the fortress of Chapultepec, one of the most perilous and obstinate struggles of the war. In the subsequent storm- ing of the castle, his force acted as a reserve, following in pursuit to the city when the work was taken. It was his design to enter the city and take possession of its National Palace. His path led over a causeway beset by fires of musketry from the buildings along the road, a battery in front and another in its rear, at the gate of the city. To meet these perils he bor- rowed a lesson from the enemy, turn- ing their own works upon them. He planted two mountain howitzers on buildings higher than the rest on either side, thus sweeping the neigh- boring houses and the road. Entering the first houses, the men worked their way with pickaxes and crowbars from house to house, burrowing through walls and ascending the roofs, till, as General Scott remarks in his dispatch, " the assailants were soon in an equality of position fatal to the enemy." By evening the two bat- teries were carried, and the San Cosmo gate only remained between General Worth and the great plaza in the heart of the city. That night of the memorable 13th of September, the civil authorities, the military com- mander having left the place, brought overtures of surrender to General Worth. The next day the American occupation of the city was perfected. The war being completed, General Worth was ordered to the department of Texas. His death occurred while he was stationed on that service at San Antonio, May 7, 1849. His re- mains were brought to New York, under direction of the corporation of the city, and temporarily interred in the cemetery at Greenwood, whence they were removed on Evacuation day, November 25th, 1857, with public honors, to the tomb prepared below the imposing monument to his memory which the city of New York had caused to be erected on one of the most conspicuous sites in the city, on Madison square, on a gore of land be- tween Broadway and the Fifth Avenue. The ceremonies were conducted with unusual pomp. A large military pro- cession conducted the.remains to the tomb, the seventy-first regiment of state militia being detailed as a guard of honor; the religious exercises were con- ducted by the Rev. Dr. Vinton, once a sol- dier under the gallant general at whose funeral rites he was now assisting: de- dication Masonic ceremonies were per- formed, and an oration was delivered by the Hon. Fernando Wood, the mayor of the city. The monument is a strik- ing shaft of granite, inscribed with a long roll of battles, from a solid base, decorated with a bas-relief representing the gallant hero mounted on a spirited steed, leading his men to victory EDWIN VOSE SUMNER. This eminent military officer, whose veteran services in successive campaigns, among the most arduous of the war of the Rebellion, especially entitle his me- mory to grateful recollection among his countrymen, was born in Boston, Mass- achusetts, in 1796. He was educated at his native city and at the neighbor- ing academy at Milton. Unlike most of the officers of the army, he was not a student at West Point. He entered the service March 3d, 1819, with the appointment from the commanderin- chief, General Brown, as second-lieuten- ant of the second infantry. He served in this regiment in the Black Hawk War, and in various duties, with credit and efficiency, till, in the year 1833, he was transferred to the second dragoons with the rank of captain. This brought him into active service, on the western frontier, among the Indian tribes—a duty which was varied, in 1838, by his appointment to the command of the cavalry school of practice at Carlisle Barracks, in Pennsylvania—an employ- ment for which his skill and energy as a disciplinarian peculiarly fitted him. In 1846, after twenty-seven years of military service, he attained the rank of major in his regiment of dragoons. The breaking out of the Mexican War provided him a new field of duty, with an adequate opportunity for the display of his abilities. He was with the army of General Scott from its land- ing to its arrival at the capital, and was distinguished at every point where he had an opportunity for action. In a successful charge upon a body of lancers at the bridge of Medelin, near Vera Cruz, in his command of the mounted rifles in the assault at Cerro Gordo, where he was wounded, and for his gallantry in which affair he was brevetted lieutenant-colonel; and espe- cially in his services at El Molino del Rey, where, constantly under fire, he maintained his position, and held in check a body of five thousand Mexican lancers, thus contributing materially to the success of the American army. For this new proof of his merits he was brevetted Colonel. In July, 1848, he was commissioned lieutenant-colonel of the first dragoons. In 1851, and for the two following years, he was in com- mand of the military department of New Mexico, and for a part of the time acted as civil governor. In 1854 he visited Europe on official business, to report on certain improvements in the cavalry service, and on his return was, in 1855, promoted to the colonelcy of the first cavalry regiment, on its or- ganization in that year. This brought A ^ EDWIN VOSE SUMNER. 309 him again into service on the frontier. Among other duties which he dis- charged at this time was the success- ful conduct of an expedition, in 1857, against a hostile band of Cheyenne warriors in Kansas Territory. The fol- lowing year he was appointed to the command of the Western Department, and rendered efficient service in Kansas by his mingled energy and moderation in the maintenance of order in the midst of the political and social diffi- culties of the territory. The outbreak of the Rebellion found him with the rank of colonel, which was soon, however, exchanged for a position more* worthy of his long and patriotic service. On the defection of General Twiggs, and the removal of the name of that officer from the roll of the army in disgrace, Colonel Sum- ner was appointed to the vacant briga- diership. He was now sent to the De- partment of the Pacific, in California, whence, he was, in the spring of 1862, called to active service in the Army of the Potomac, then rapidly completing its organization under General McClel- lan. In the campaign on the Peninsula he was actively employed, from the siege of Yorktown to the final retreat to the James River. When an attack was made by the enemy in force upon the Union Army, then within a few miles of Richmond, at Seven Pines, General Sumner, who was stationed on the left bank of the Chickahominy, by his prompt passage of that river with his corps, turned the fortunes of the day in the repulse of the Confederates at Fair Oaks. He was equally distin- guished by his services in the Seven Days' Battles which succeeded, and in which he was slightly wounded. Hav- ing received the rank of major-general of volunteers and brevet major-general in the regular army, we find him in command of the second corps, in Mc- Clellan's brief campaign in Maryland in September, 1862, when, at the hard- fought battle of Antietam, he was again wounded. Continuing with the Army of the Potomac on its transfer to the com- mand of General Burnside, he was with that officer, in command of the second and ninth corps, forming the right grand division at the battle of Frede- ricksburg. His division was the first to cross the Rappahannock. Its at- tacks upon the enemy's position were made with the greatest gallantry, and in the disastrous returns of the day it reported the heaviest losses. When General Hooker succeeded General Burnside in the command of the Army of the Potomac, General Sumner was relieved at his own re- quest. He was next appointed to the command of the Department of Mis- souri, but the very day the order was published he was suddenly taken from the world. He died on the 21st March, 1863, after a brief illness, at Syracuse, New York, where he had been for a short time sojourning. He left the reputation of a high-minded, energetic officer. He was distinguished as a disciplinarian, while his integ- rity and patriotism, through forty-four years of public service, entitle him to a high place among the defenders of his country. n—39 MARTIN VAN BUREN. Marttn Van Buren, the eighth Pre- sident of the United States, was born at Kinderhook, Columbia County, New York, December 5th, 1782. His name imports his Dutch descent, his family being among the early settlers who came from Holland to the New Nether- lands. Abraham Van Buren, the father of Martin, is spoken of as a farmer in moderate circumstances, " an upright, amiable, and intelligent man, of strong common sense, and distinguished for his pacific disposition." He had little op- portunity to bestow upon his son a costly classical education; but the boy had the benefit of such instruction as the village school and academy afforded, and its course included " some know- ledge of Latin." His quickness and in- telligence marked him out for the pro- fession of the law, the study of which he commenced at the early age of four- teen, in the office of Mr. Francis Sylves- ter, a highly respectable practitioner at Kinderhook. This apparently prema- ture entrance in the training of the pro- fession is accounted for by a former regulation of the bar, which required a seven years' course of instruction, except in the case of those who had received a collesriate degree, when an allowance was made for the usual four years of the undergraduate course. 310 The young Van Buren was early set to try cases in the Justices' Courts, and as it is always in America but a single step from the lawyer's office to the political arena, he found his way when he was but eighteen to a nominating convention of the Republi- can party, of a candidate for the State legislature. These and similar employ- ments marked the young man while he was yet a student, for future activity and employment in public affairs. This tendency was increased by his engage- ment in the last year of his preparatory course in the office of Mr. William P. Van Ness, a distinguished leader of the Republican party in the city of New York, and friend of Aaron Burr. The latter is said to have cultivated the soci- ety of the young student at law from Columbia County, and impressed upon him much of his political sagacity in the organization and government of party. In 1803, in his twenty-first year, Mr. Van Buren was admitted to the bar of the Supreme Court of the State, and returned to Kinderhook to begin prac- tice at the law. His half-brother, his mother's son by a first marriage, Mr. James I. Van Alen, afterward a mem- ber of Congress, was there established as a lawyer, and the two formed at once a business connection. This part Pairited "by hlunzo Chajrpel ^ S^t^S^T^L^ likeness / ■x&ztF?:*. „ rrwn, fo 20 MARTIN VAN BUREN. Sll ner, who was somewhat of a politician, was attached to the Federal party, which was the ruling influence in the county, and many considerations were urged upon young Van Buren to adopt the prevalent creed. He had, however, chosen his path. " Firmly fixed," says his biographer, Mr. Holland, " by reflec- tion and observation in the political faith of his father, who was a Wilis; in the Revolution, an anti-Federalist in 1788, and an early supporter of Jefferson, he shrunk not from the severe tests which were applied to the strength and integ- rity of his convictions. Without pa- tronage, comparatively poor, a plebeian by birth, and not furnished with the advantages of a superior education, he refused to worship either at the shrine of wealth or power, but followed the dictates of his native judgment and be- nevolent feelings, and hesitated not, in behalf of the cause which he thus adopted, to encounter the utmost vio- lence of his political enemies. That violence soon burst upon his head with concentrated fury. His character was traduced, his'person ridiculed, his prin- ciples branded as infamous, his integ- rity questioned, and his abilities sneered at." This is one side of the picture— the opposition of the Federalists; it has another, the partisan friendship of the Republicans. The latter gave the young lawyer and politician their support; he throve in his profession; was mar- ried happily, in 1806, to Miss Hannah Hoes, a distant relative on the mother's side; and in 1808 had his first party reward from the Republican state ad- ministration of Governor Tompkins, which he had assisted into office. He received the appointment of surrogate of Columbia County, which induced him to remove to the county seat at Hudson, where he devoted himself assi- duously to the bar In politics, as we have seen, Mr. Van Buren was an active participant from the start as an ardent supporter of the Jeffersonian politics of the day. In the State divisions he attached himself to the fortunes of Governor Tompkins, and was prominent in sustaining his anti-bank policy. It was on the latter issue, in opposition to Edward P. Liv- ingston, a bank-democrat supported by the Federalists, that Mr. Van Buren was chosen a State senator from the coun ties comprising the Middle District. It was a closely contested election, the successful candidate having a majority of only about two hundred in an aggre- gate vote of twenty thousand. It was the season of a new Presi- dential election, the first term of Mr. Madison being about to expire. As it was the custom at that time to nomi- nate the State electors by a caucus of the political parties in the legislature, Mr. Van Buren was, of course, called upon to participate in their decision. The Republican members had already, in their spring session, nominated De Witt Clinton for that high office, a nomination to which Mr. Van Buren now gave his support. This brought him in a quasi union with the Federal- ists, who gave their support to Mr. Clin- ton, and has led his biographers to take particular pains to exhibit his ad- herence to the war policy of the admin- istration at Washington, toward which, at the outset at least, Mr. Clinton had 312 MARTIN VAN BUREN. l>een opposed. But whatever doubts may have been thrown over his views by this accidental party relation, seem- ing to compromise his thorough-going republicanism, his adherence to war measures was made explicit enough in the Address which he prepared as chair- man of the committee nominating Go- vernor Tompkins for reelection in 1813, and by his subsequent advocacy in the legislature of the most stringent war measures, particularly in an act to en- courage privateering, and another which was known as the " classification law," of the nature of a conscription, author- izing the governor to place at the dis- posal of the President twelve thousand men of the militia—a measure which, though adopted, peace intervening, was not required to be put in practice. The acts just alluded to were violently op- posed by the Federalists, and submit- ted to a severe scrutiny after their pas- sage, in the Council of Revision, a body which then sat as an integral part of the legislature in confirming its laws. Chan- cellor Kent there delivered an opinion against them. It was published, and replied to by Samuel Young, then Speaker of the Assembly, in several newspaper articles signed " Juris Con- sultus" which were answered by the chancellor under the signature "Amicus Curice." Upon this Mr. Van Buren met the latter, directing his attention espe- cially to the assault upon the morality of the privateering law, in a series of ar- ticles signed "Amicus Juris Consul- tus? After peace was concluded, in the words of his eulogist, Colonel Benton, " to complete his course in support of the war, and to crown his meritorious labors to bring it to a happy conclu- sion, it became Mr. Van Buren's fortune to draw up the vote of thanks of the greatest State of the Union, to the great- est general which the war had produced —' the thanks of the New York legisla- ture to Major-General Jackson, his gal- lant officers and troops, for their won- derful and heroic victory, in defence of the grand emporium of the West.'" The ability displayed by Mr. Van Buren in the Senate indicated him as a worthy incumbent of the office of attorney-general of the State, an ap- pointment which he received in 1815. He was also in this year created a Re- gent of the University, and in the fol- lowing was reelected for another term of four years to the Senate. He then took up his residence at Albany, where he continued his practice at the bar, which had steadily increased, and formed a partnership with his pupil, the late Benjamin F. Butler, to whom, as the political relations of Mr. Van Buren became more engrossing, the bu- siness of the office was gradually relin- quished. It is not necessary here to attempt to follow Mr. Van Buren through the in- tricate windings of New York political history. It is a story of cross purposes, which can be fully understood only by a minute study of the history of the times, if, indeed, we are as yet supplied with the full materials for its compre- hension. It may be sufficient to say that much in those days, by a politician bent upon advancement, had to be ac- complished by management and in- trigue. The ship was to be assisted in MARTIN VAN BUREN. 313 its course by side winds and under cur- rents. Thus we find Mr. Van Buren with his party at one time, by some pro- cess of fusion of Republicans and Fed- eralists, supporting De Witt Clinton; at another, leading in his overthrow. It became a question of party existence. What is called the Albany Regency, a body of practised politicians who com- bined their resources in office and through the press in establishing and cementing democratic authority, was called into being. Clinton had the prestige of a great name in the State, and the influence of commanding ta- lents, sustained by the most indomita- ble usefulness and industry ; he was the great supporter of the Canal policy, which was at length triumphantly car- ried through, but which had, mean- while, to bear the brunt of a ruthless opposition; in his personal bearing he was charged with haughtiness, which was, probably, nothing more than the dignity and reserve of a superior na- ture, exclusively engrossed in honor- able ends, requiring the devotion of the whole man. At any rate, a party strug- gle ensued between the friends of the governor and of Mr. Van Buren, which was conducted with great acrimony. One of its results was the removal of the latter from his office of attorney- general, by that political machine of the old constitution, the Council of Ap- pointment, in 1819, at a moment when he had become obnoxious to the Clin- tonians by his efforts to oppose the re- election of their chieftain. The decapi- tation caused some stir at the time, which is commemorated in one of the poetical effusions of the Croakers, with a prophetic hint of the victim's higher destiny. 'Tis vain to win a great man's name, Without some proof of having been one, And killing's a sure path to fame, Vide Jack Ketch and Mr. Clinton 1 Our Council well this path have trod, Honor's immortal wreath securing, They've dipped their hatchets in the blood, The patriot blood of Mat. Van Buren. He bears, as every hero ought, The mandate of the powers that rule, He's higher game in view, 'tis thought, All in good time ; (the man's no fool), With him, some dozens prostrate fall, No friend to mourn, nor foe to flout them, They die unsung, unwept by all, For no one cares a sous about them. It was about this time that the demo- crats, including Mr. Van Buren, engaged in one of those party compromise ma- noeuvres to which we have alluded, in the election of Mr. Rufus King, an old federalist, to the Senate. In support of this measure, Mr. Van Buren wrote and published, in conjunction with the late Governor Marcy, a pamphlet enti- tled "Considerations in favor of the appointment of Rufus King to the Se- nate of the United States." In the great question of the day, in which Mr. King bore so prominent a part, the admission of Missouri into the Union, Mr. Van Buren concurred with the Senate in its instructions to the State representatives at Washington, to insist upon the prohibition of slavery. His service in this body ended with the ex- piration of his second term, in 1820, when he was not a candidate for reelec- tion. In February of the following year he was chosen by the legislature Senator of the United States. In the same year he was also elected a mem- 3U MARTIN Y 1 >er of the convention to revise the con- stitution of the State, from Otsego County, his party not being strong enough to return him from his own dis- trict. When this important body met he took an active part in its delibera- tions, advocating generally a medium course of reform. On one of the pro- minent subjects under discussion, the extension of the right of suffrage, he was in favor of a relaxation of the old system, but stopped short of universal suffrage. That was a measure of an after day. He was opposed to the con- tinuance of the Council of Revision, and in favor of the substitute for its check upon hasty legislation, of the veto power of the governor. He favored the direct choice of officers of government by the people, with some reservations, however, which, adopted at the time, have been subsequently removed. His course was thus politic, and, in a mea- sure, conservative. The convention concluded its sit- tings in time for Mr. Van Buren to take his seat, at the opening of the win- ter session of the Senate at Washing- ton, by the side of his colleague Rufus King. His reputation being now well established, he was at once charged with important duties as a member of the committees of finance and the judi- ciary. One of the topics which early engaged his attention was the abolition of imprisonment for debt in the process of the United States Courts, unless in certain cases of fraud—an amelioration of the statutes of the olden time, which he had already advocated in the State jurisprudence at Albany. He also pro- posed amendments to the judiciary sys- lN buren. tem, and was a prominent speaker in the discussion of a bill establishing: a uniform system of bankruptcy. On the accession of Mr. Adams in 1825, Mr. Van Buren, who had already attached himself to the fortunes of Jackson, was enrolled in the number of the President's opponents. Among other measures of the Administration, the proposed Panama mission drew forth his determined opposition. In 1827 he was reelected to the Senate by a decisive vote of the New York State Legislature, but he had little more than entered on the new term, when he was chosen, on the death of De Witt Clinton, who expired sud- denly while in office, Governor of New York. He consequently resigned his seat in the Senate and began his new course of duties in January, 1829. Mr. Van Buren had not been long at Albany, in his seat as governor, when, on the entrance of Jackson upon the Presidency in 1829, he was called to the high office, directly, according to the old precedents in the line of suc- cession, of Secretary of State. He held this for two years, when political hos- tilities having grown rife in the cabinet, a dissolution seemed inevitable, and, " convinced that the success of the ad- ministration, and his own prospects for the future, demanded his retirement from a position so unpleasant, he led the way by a voluntary resignation of the office which he held."* Mr. Van Buren retired during the recess of Congress in April, 1831, and was immediately appointed by the ' Jenkins' Van Buren. Governors of N,ew York, p. 444. MARTIN VAN BUREN. , 315 President Minister Plenipotentiary to Great Britain. He accepted the posi- tion, the duties of which were not alto- gether disconnected from those of his late office, so far as they related to the settlement of open questions with Eng- land, which he had already had in hand. He reached London in September, and was received with every attention by the government. Before, however, he was well seated, his appointment, on being submitted to the Senate, was re- jected by that body, on the ostensible ground of certain instructions, in refer- ence to the trade with the West Indies, which he had forwarded, when Secre- tary of State, to the previous minister, Mr. McLane. The political constitu- tion of the Senate, which was now ar- raying its forces, may be presumed to have had more to do with the rejection, which was decided against the appoint- ment by the casting vote of the Vice- President, Mr. Calhoun. That act, it was often said, made Mr. Van Buren President. He was the victim of an opposition vote, and was ruthlessly thrown out from an honor- able office which he was well qualified to discharge. This, at least, was the view of the Democratic party, and the friends of the President, who continued to give him his support. Consequently when General Jackson was nominated for reelection, it-was with Martin Van Buren on the ticket for Vice-President. Both were chosen by a decided major- ity, the vote being the same, with the exception of that of Pennsylvania, which, in consequence of Mr. Van Bu- ren's anti-protectionist views, was with- held from him. As the presiding officer of the Sen- ate, during the stormy period of Jack- son's second term, the new Vice-Presi- dent, by his parliamentary experience, unwearied attention, and that polished courtesy which always characterized his bearing, won golden opinions from all parties. He was the devoted sup- porter of the measures of the Presi- dent in this active period, which wit- nessed the overthrow of the United States Bank, the decided stand taken with regard to nullification in South Carolina, and the indemnity negotia- tion with Louis Philippe. The reign of Jacksonism, as it was sometimes called, became fully established, and Mr. Van Buren succeeded to the re- tiring chieftain as his rightful political heir. He was nominated to the Presi- dency at Baltimore, in May, 1835, and in the ensuing election of the folio-wing year was chosen by a majority of forty- six votes over all other candidates. His inauguration, on the 4th of March, 1837, was duly celebrated ac- cording to custom, by the delivery of an address, and administration of the oath at the portico of the Capitol. The day was a very fine one, as the new President was driven to the spot, seated alongside of the retiring incumbent, in a phseton made of the wood of the frigate Constitution, which had been presented to General Jackson by the democracy of New York. The address was chiefly a eulogy on the success of the Government in its triumph over all previous obstacles. The agitation of the slavery question was pointedly al- luded to and deprecated in earnest terms. The speaker renewed his 316 ' MARTIN VAN BUREN. pledge as "the inflexible and uncom- promising opponent of every attempt on the part of Congress to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia, against the wishes of the slaveholding States; and also his determination, equally decided, to resist the slightest interference with it in the States where it exists." In the selection of his Cabinet, Mr. Van Buren retained those who held office under the late administration, in- cluding John Forsyth, of Georgia, in the State Department; Levi Woodbury, of New Hampshire, in the Treasury; Amos Kendall in the Post Office, and Benjamin F. Butler as Attorney-Gene- ral. Mr. Poinsett, of South Carolina, was appointed in the War Department to succeed General Cass, who proceeded as Minister to France. The bureau of administration thus organized, the gov- ernment with an established, reco^- nized policy, appeared to have an easy course before it. There was, however, a cloud rising which soon burst upon the country. The difficulty arose from the banks out of the plethora of the public treasury. A large surplus had accumulated in the State banks, which were the substitutes of the former national institution, which was now to be divided among the States. Credit had been stimulated, paper money had been expanded, and the result was now the contraction, memo- rable in our commercial annals, of the year 1837. The banks suspended spe- cie payments, millions of value were depreciated, and the whole system of trade and ind'istry seemed in utter wreck and ruin. An extra session of Congress was called in September, to take into consideration the state of affairs in relation to the public credit. A message from the President proposed the remedy which, known under the name of the Sub-Treasury, has passed into an established feature of the gov- ernment unquestioned in party con- flicts. The Independent Treasury Bill, which thus separated the financial af- fairs of the State from all banks what- soever, making the care of the gold and silver paid for duties, a simple matter of safe keeping, under the charge of certain officers, met at the outset with considerable opposition. It passed the Senate iu this extra session but was de- feated in the House of Representatives. The same fate attended it in the next regular session. It did not become a law till the last year of Mr. Van Buren's Presidential term, in 1840. It was undoubtedly the most important event of his administration. The foreign policy of the country was conducted with ability during this period. Two questions of some im- portance arose in these connections, one in relation to Texas, the other regard- ing the management of the frontier difficulties with Great Britain. In respect to the former, which came up on the proposition for the annexation of Texas to the Union, the President was opposed to the measure. He thought the independence of that State had not been fully recognized by the United States, and that to enter upon annex- ation would be, as the event proved, to encounter hostilities with Mexico, with which country he desired to maintain p°ace. In the Maine Boundary Question MARTIN VAN BUREN. 317 and the Niagara frontier disturbances he pursued a firm and equable policy, protecting the rights of the country and checking the lawless spirit which had been aroused within our own bor- ders. In the election of 1840 Mr. Van Buren was again the candidate of his party, in a canvass in which he suffered an overwhelming defeat. The country, depressed by the financial crisis from which it had not yet recovered, was bent upon political change. General Harrison, a popular hero of the West was nominated by the Whigs and borne into office by a triumphant vote. He received two hundred and thirty-four electoral votes against the sixty of Pre- sident Van Buren. The administration of the latter being thus ended, he re- tired from Washington on the accession of the new President, to his old home at Kinderhook, where he had purchased an estate which had belonged to the late Judge Van Ness, to which he gave the name Linden wold. In 1844 his friends again brought him forward as a candi- date for the Presidency, and an earnest effort was made for his nomination in the national convention of his party at Bal- timore. It might have been obtained for him but for a letter which he wrote in favor of deferring the annexation of Texas till the consent of Mexico should he obtained. Something more decided was required by the convention on this point, and the nomination was given to Mr. Polk, who was less scrupulous in regard to the measure. Mr. Van Buren, true to the party organization, which he had done so much to aid in previous days, gave an influential support to the ii.—40 democratic candidate, and on his elec- tion, was tendered the mission to Eng- land, which he declined. Four years now elapsed, and 1848 brought round again the recurring struggle for the Presidency. A division had arisen in the ranks of the democracy in the State of New York, involving the question of the introduction of slavery into the new territory acquired from Mexico. Two delegations were, sent from rival factions to the nominating convention of the party at Baltimore. In the poli- tical nomenclature of the day one bore the name of Hunkers, the other of Barn- burners. The latter, which represented the interests of Mr. Van Buren, was in favor of freedom in the territories. Re- solutions were passed in the conven- tion admitting both delegations, upon which the Barnburners retired. The faction of the latter then held a con- vention of their own at Utica, at which Mr. Van Buren was nominated 'as an independent democratic candidate of the Free Soil party, as it began to be called. General Cass was the regular nominee at Baltimore, and General Tay- lor of the Whigs. The result of the election was a Free Soil popular vote for Van Buren, chiefly drawn from New York, which gave him over 120,000; Massachusetts, 38,058; Ohio, over 35,000; Illinois, nearly 16,000; Penn- sylvania, about 11,000—an aggregate of 291,378. General Cass received 1,233,795 votes ; General Taylor's votes exceeded this by 138,447. Mr. Van Buren did not receive the electoral vote of a single State. Mr. Van Buren, " a passive instru ment in the hands of his old and de- 318 MARTIN VAN BUREN. voted friends," appears to have been little concerned at the result. It was not his humor or his character. He had seen enough of party not to be greatly affected by its decisions,*and he had, moreover, reached an age of honor- able, well-earned repose, which his habits of study and reflection, a certain philosophic temper, and his happy family relations disposed him to enjoy. The retirement of Mr. Van Buren's latter days was varied by a visit to Europe, undertaken for his health in 1853. There he remained for more than a year, visiting various countries and enjoying such attention as befitted the elevated career in which he had moved. On his return his time was chiefly passed at his estate of Linden- wold, among the scenes of his child- hood, in Columbia County, varied by an occasional visit to New York. An asthmatic affection was gradually grow- ing upon him, which increased in inten- sity, and finally brought him to his end. His death occurred on the 24th of July, 1862, in the midst of the great political and social revolution, which in the storm of civil war was shaking the land to its foundations. In the public honors which were paid to his memory the association was not forgotten. Pre- sident Lincoln, in a national tribute of respect, announced his death to the country. " This event," was the lan- guage of his Proclamation, " will occa- sion mourning in the nation for the loss of a citizen and a public servant whose memory will be gratefully cherished. Although it has occurred at a time when his country is afflicted with divi- sion and civil war, the grief of his patri-' otic friends will measurably be assuaged by the consciousness that, while suffer- ing with disease, and seeing his end approaching, his prayers were for the restoration of the authority of the Government of which he had been the head, and for peace and good-will among his fellow-citizens. As a mark of respect for his memory, it is ordered that the Executive Mansion and the several Executive Departments, except- ing those of the War and Navy, be im- mediately placed in mourning, and all business be suspended during to-mor- row. It is further ordered that the War and Navy Departments cause suit- able military and naval honors to be paid on this occasion to the memory of the illustrious dead." The courts of New York paid their eulogies to the man and his active influential life. The funeral services were performed at the Dutch Church, in the village of Kinderhook, in the presence of a large gathering of friends and neighbors, when a discourse befitting the occa- sion was delivered by a friend of the deceased, the Rev. Dr. J. Romeyn Berry, in which a stirring incentive to patriot- ism, rendered doubly impressive by the national crisis, was a prominent topic. Mr. Van Buren had been long a widower, his wife having died in 1818, twelve years after their marriage, leav- ing him a family of four sons, Abraham, John, Martin, and Smith Thompson. Mr. John Van Buren is well known as an eminent legal practitioner in New York, and more widely of late by his active participation in the political movements of the day. The more prominent characteristics MARTIN VAN BUREN. 319 of Mr. Van Buren have been delicately touched by a son of one of his most devoted friends, Mr. William Allen But- ler, in an interesting obituary sketch of the " Lawyer, Statesman and Man." " In his personal traits," says he, " Mr. Van Buren was marked by a rare indi- viduality. He was a gentleman, and he cultivated the society of gentlemen. He never had any associates who were vulgar or vicious. He affected the companionship of men of letters, though I think his conclusion was that they are apt to make poor poli- ticians and not the best of friends. Where he acquired that peculiar neat- ness and polish of manners which he wore so lightly, and which served every turn of domestic, social, and public intercourse, I do not know. It could hardly be called natural, al- though it seemed so natural in him. It was not put on, for it never was put off. As you saw him once you saw him always—always punctilious, al- ways polite, always cheerful, always self-possessed. It seemed to any one who studied this phase of his character as if, in some early moment of destiny, his whole nature had been bathed in a cool, clear and unruffled depth, from which it drew this life-long serenity and self-control. It was another of the charges against him that he was no Democrat. He dressed too well, he lived too well, the company he kept was too good, his tastes were too re- fined, his tone was too elegant. So far as democracy is supposed to have an elective affinity for dirt, this was all true; he was no Democrat in taste or feeling, and he never pretended to be. . . . As to the elements of the widest popularity, they were not in him. He never inspired enthusiasm, as Jackson did, or Henry Clay. The masses accepted him as a leader, but they never worshipped him as a hero. . . . Mr. Van Buren has left memoirs, partly finished. If his reminiscences can be given to the world as he was in the habit of giving them to his friends, in all the fresh- ness of familiar intercourse, they will be most attractive. There was a charm about his conversation when it turned on the incidents of his personal experi- ence which could hardly be transferred to the printed page, so much of its interest depended on manner and ex- pression. Mr. Van Buren had no wit, but he had humor, and a keen sense for the humorous, and he could repro- duce with rare fidelity whatever in the actions or the character of men he had thought worth remembering." SALMON PORTLAND CHASE. This eminent statesman was born in Cornish, New Hampshire, January 13, 1808. He received some early school instruction at Keene, in the same state, where his father had removed; and, after the death of that parent, the boy, at the age of twelve, went to Worth- in r^ton, Ohio, where he was assisted in the completion of his education by his uncle, Philander Chase, the eminent Episcopal Bishop of the State. He entered the Cincinnati College, of which Bishop Chase was President, and after pursuing its studies in the Sophomore Class, returned to his home at his mother's house in New Hampshire, where he was admitted to the Junior Class at Dartmouth, from which Col- lege he graduated in 1826. We next find him at the national capital, m charge of a classical school, supported by some of the eminent public men of the day, whose sons were placed under his tuition. Among these were Henry Clay and William Wirt. With the latter, then in the height of his profes- sional fame, Mr. Chase, in his hours of leisure, studied law, and relinquishing his school, was in 1829 admitted to practice in the District of Columbia. In the following year he returned to Cincinnati, and became earnestly en- gaged in his profession. A proof of m his zeal and industry in those early years of patient waiting and devotion, of which the law is usually exacting, is to be found in a valuable annotated edition which he prepared of the Statutes of Ohio. His practice now increased, and in a few years he began to be prominently known to the people of the United States by his advocacy before the Supreme Court of what may be called the principles of freedom in the National Constitution, in legal cases growing out of the claims of slavery upon colored persons who had taken refuge in Ohio. This course naturally made him a leader in the new political organizations, which were re- quired to secure the maintenance of these principles. Having been attached to the Democratic party, he now tested party distinctions by their greater or less subserviency to the slave power, of which he was a resolute opponent. In- dependent action was needed, and in this Mr. Chase was a pioneer of the Republican cause. At the head of the liberty party in Ohio, he devoted him- self unreservedly to the inculcation of the creed that slavery was in its nature a local, and not a national institution, and that the powers of the Govern- ment, under the Constitution, were to be exerted on the side of freedom. SALMON PORTLAND CHASE. 321 From 1841, by his pen and in conven- tions, he battled for these principles, till he had the satisfaction, in 1848, of witnessing their adoption by the free- soil party of that day. The following year he was elected by the democratic and free-soil members of the Ohio Leg- islature to the United States Senate, where, in opposition to the compromise measures of Mr. Clay—the repeal of the Missouri Act in the Kansas and Nebraska bill, and in other proceedings, he maintained the principles of free- dom, of which he was now acknow- ledged among the foremost and most able advocates. He was also diligent in his attention to National and West- ern interests, in the furtherance of the projected Pacific Railway, and the free homestead bill. In 1855 he was elected by the free-soil vote Governor of Ohio. On his entrance upon the office, he brought his accustomed energy to his new duties, advocating all liberal mea- sures of improvement, and particularly distinguishing himself by his efficient recommendations in regard to the financial policy of the State. His ser- vices in these respects were so marked, and his principles held in such esteem, that he was triumphantly elected to a second ferm. This brought him to the opening of the new era, when the principles of na- tional policy, which he had so long supported, became dominant in the election of Mr. Lincoln to the Presi- dency. His appointment to a seat in the new Cabinet at Washington was a tribute to his ability and persistent advocacy of the doctrines of the suc- cessful Republican party; and in con- sideration of his integrity, and the financial skill which he had displayed in the Governor's chair in Ohio, he was wisely placed at the head of the Trea- sury Department. In the records of the great struggle with the Rebellion, the history of the gigantic financial mea- sures proposed and carried into effect by him, which became a necessity of the times, and which, whatever their ultimate result, with equal simplicity and success met the successive enor- mous demands of the day—will give to Secretary Chase, certainly no inferior place in the annals of this extraordi- nary period. JOHN TYLER. The family of John Tyler was of an old English stock, established in Vir- ginia from the early days of the settle- ment. He is said, in fact, by one of his biographers, to be descended from that redoubtable Walter or Watt Tyler, the man of Kent who offered such brave resistance to the tax-gatherers of the , second Richard, and who had for his associate the famous John Ball, a reve- rend itinerant, to whom is attributed the wholesome democratic inquiry When Adam delved and Eve span Who was then the gentleman ? Be all this, however, as it may, the grandfather of the President was a re- spectable landholder in the colony of Virginia, in the vicinity of Williams- burgh, enjoying the office of marshal in the ante-revolutionary period. His son, John Tyler, born in time to take part in the new era, was a member of the House of Delegates from Charles City County when Patrick Henry and his as- sociates sounded the first notes of revolt. As the cause advanced he devoted his fortunes and energies to the patriotic work, and was rewarded by the suf- frages of the people with the highest honors of the State. He rose to be speaker of the House of Delegates, Governor of the State, Judge of the 322 United States District Court, and in his last days, in the period of the second war with England, was created by Pre- sident Madison, Judge of the Federal Court of Admiralty. He died at the age of sixty-five. He was the intimate friend and correspondent of Patrick Henry, for whom he entertained an ardent admiration. No one was more esteemed or better thought of in the State. This revolutionary patriot left three sons, the first of whom appears to have been called Watt, after the old English- man of the people, the stout rebel of the fourteenth century. The second, destined to occupy the chair of the Pre- sident of the United States, named after his father and grandfather, John, was born in Charles City County, March 29, 1790. The youth had the educa- tion and training of the son of a Vir- ginia gentleman. At the age of twelve he entered the college of William and Mary, at Williamsburg, and enjoyed the particular friendship of the venera- ble Bishop Madison, who had then pre- sided over the institution for a quarter of a century. He graduated with cre- dit, his commencement address on "Female Education" gaining more than the usual plaudits of such occasions, and next occupied himself with the _$. ,1 'V I 71, 'J't/lf/T /'"fvrfiti<- iiruj. / ....... ty Chap-elm csessvn, nor of New Hampshire in 1827, and was again elected to that office in 1829. He subsequently lived in retirement, leaving the world in 1839, at the venerable age of eighty-one. The peo- ple of New Hampshire have not yet forgotten the shrewd sense and kindli- ness, the unaffected democratic princi- ples, of the honest, cheerful old soldier of the Revolution and Governor of the State. It is to his memory, doubt- less, supported by the popular traits of character inherited from him, that his son has been indebted for much of his advancement. Franklin had good opportunities of education. He was early sent to the neighboring academies at Hancock and Francestown, enjoying at the latter the advantages of a residence with the family of an old friend of his father, Peter Woodbury, whose son, Judge Woodbury, became afterward so emi- nent in public affairs. Young Pierce, who was of a warm-hearted, susceptible nature, was much impressed by the superior mind and character of the lady of this household, the mother of Judge Woodbury. Indeed he appears in his boyhood to have won the kindness of those around him by his frank, inge- nuous disposition. He was admitted to Bowdoin college in 1820. It is to 838 334 FRANKLIN TIERCE. the credit of young Pierce as a collegian that, having fallen into some indiffe- rence during the first years of his course, he more than regained his posi- tion in the upper classes, graduating with credit in 1824. It is a fact worth mentioning, though, as his biographer remarks, by no means unusual in the history of the rise of New England statesmen, that in one of the winter va- cations Franklin Pierce took a turn at school-keeping. His college instruction being com- es o pleted, he began the study of the law as a profession in the office of Judge Woodbury, of Portsmouth, the son of his father's old friend, then Governor of the State, and soon afterward greatly distinguished at Washington as Speaker and senator, and member of the cabinet of Jackson. After a year with this eminent jurist, Mr. Pierce completed his studies in the law school at Northamp- ton and the office of the Hon. Edmund Parker, at Amherst. He was admitted to the bar in 1827, and opened an office opposite to his father's house at Hills- borough. His success, though he had the advantage of the family popularity, was not very decided at the outset. His biographer, indeed, speaks of his first case as a decided failure. He had not yet learned the fuU command of his resources. It was his fortune to make his position at the bar good by steady effort. Politics, meanwhile, offered him a ready resource, as his father had just been elected Governor. Democratic sentiments were gaining the ascendency under the influence of Jack- son, and to this cause young Pierce de- voted himself. In 1829, and for three successive years, he was elected to the legislature of his State, as representa- tive of Hillsborough, filling in 1832 and 1833 the office of Speaker. In the last year he was chosen a member of Con- gress, taking his seat in the House of Re- presentatives at Washington, in Decem- ber. He was again elected and served a second term. He was of course a steady, unflinching supporter of the administra- tion, for the democratic rule of those days admitted no other—not a frequent, or long, or eloquent speaker, but a zeal- ous, persistent committee man, giving his vote for the measures of his chief, seconding the views of the South, and, a decided.man generally in his party relations. In 1837 he left the House of Repre- sentatives for the Senate of the United States, where he was the youngest member of that body. His term of ser- vice embraced the whole of Mr. Van Buren's administration and a portion of that of his successor, during which his services to his party were resolute and unintermitted. They were not for- gotten when an opportunity subse quently arose to confer upon him the highest reward. He retired fi^m pub lie life at the end of the period for which he was elected, having his resi- dence now at Concord, in his native State. He had been for some time married to a daughter of the Rev. Dr. Appleton, once President of Bowdoin; his father was now dead; f.nd his do- mestic affairs required his care at home. Thither he retired to devote himself as- siduously to his .profession. His suc- cess was immediately assured, his prac- tice at the bar yielding him a very FRANKLIN PIERCE. 335 handsome income. In proof of his con- tentment and the sincerity of his wishes for retirement, he declined in 1845 an appointment by the Governor to the United States Senate to fill the place vacated by Judge Woodbury, and a proffer by the Democracy of his State of a nomination as Governor; refusing also in the following year a seat in the cabinet of President Polk as Attorney- General. He held meanwhile the post, at home, of District Attorney of New Hampshire. His reluctance to engage in public life at Washington partly proceeded from his professional duties in his own State and partly from the health of his wife, to which the climate of the seat of government was unfavorable. In his letter to President Polk, dated Septem- ber 6, 1846, declining the position of Attorney-General, he made use of this expression: " When I resigned my seat in the senate in 1842, I did it with the fixed purpose never again to be volun- tarily separated from my family, for any considerable length of time, except at the call of my country in time of war." The reservation, looking to the date, was not without its significance. General Taylor had in May fought the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, and it was evident that more serious struggles, which would call out a new military force, were impending. Congress was slow to admit the neces- sity in making provision for the addi- tional force, but when the time came and the bill creating ten new regiments was passed, Franklin Pierce was looked to and created by the President a brigadier-general, his commission being dated March 3, 1847. He had pre- viously enrolled his name on the first list of volunteers at Concord as a pri- vate soldier. He considered his accep tance of the duty a fulfillment of his pledge on taking leave of the Senate. The old military spirit of two wars in which his father and brothers had taken part again lived in the family. The brigade of which he was placed in command consisted of twenty-five hundred men, composed of the ninth regiment of New Englanders, the twelfth from the south-western States, and the fifteenth from the north and west. They were to assemble at Vera Cruz, and join the forces of General Scott on his march to the capital. General Pierce sailed from Newport on the 27th of May, with a portion of the New Eng- land regiment; the voyage was calm and consequently long; bringing the pas- sengers to the rendezvous at the most unhealthy season of the year. As the vomito then prevailed at Vera Cruz. the prospect of landing new recruits was anything but a happy one. It was the work before the new general, how- ever, and he courageously faced it. The portions of his Diary published by his biographer, show the full extent of the difficulties which he encountered, and which were met by him with manly resolution. Avoiding the city, he sta- tioned his men on an extensive sand beach in the vicinity, where they would at least have the benefit of a free circu- lation of air. It was the beginning of July, and no means were at hand to expedite the departure for the interior. A large number of wild mules had been collected, but, inferior -is they were for 336 FRANKLIN TIERCE. purposes of transportation, they were so ill provided with proper attendants that most of them broke away in a stam- pede. "The Mexicans fully believe," is the language of the journal of June 28, "that most of my command must die of vomito before I can be prepared to march into the interior." A delay of but a day or two was expected; it was now running into weeks. Then he records the services of Major Woods, a West Point officer " of great intelli- gence, experience, and coolness, who kindly consented to act as my adjutant- general." There is a serious case of vomito in the camp, Captain Duff, who is sent to the hospital in the city. At length, after three weeks on the shore, the advance is sent off, and a few days after the general himself follows. It is not an easy road to travel. The great battles of the previous expeditions had cleared the road of extensive fortifica- tions, but left it free to be assailed by straggling parties of guerillas, of whom General Pierce and his men are to have a taste as they carry their train of men and munitions to the main army at Puebla. He was twice attacked on the route, on leaving San Juan, when both sides of the road were beset by the Mexicans, and again at the National Bridge, where a formidable effort was made to arrest his progress. The ene- my had erected a barricade at the bridge, and manned a temporary breast- work on a high commanding bluff above. General Pierce, looking around for means of annoyance to cover his advance, found a position for several pieces of cannon, but the main advan- tage was gained by a portion of his command in charging the defences at the bridge and gaining the enemy's works from the rear. In this engage- ment, which seems to have been well managed in securing the speedy retreat of the Mexicans, General Pierce was under fire, and received an escopette ball through the rim of his hat, without, however, other damage, as he adds in his journal, " than leaving my head for a short time without protection from the sun." The train thus relieved ad- vanced to the Plan del Rio, where the bridge, a work of the old Spaniards, was found to be destroyed. Its main arch, a span of about sixty feet, was blown up. Below yawned a gulf of a hundred feet. The bank in the neigh- borhood appeared impassable for wa- gons. In this emergency General Pierce called upon one of his New England officers, Captain Bodfish, of the Ninth Infantry, who "had been engaged for many years in the lumber business, and accustomed to the construction of roads in the wild and mountainous districts of Maine, and was, withal, a man not lightly to be checked by slight ob- stacles in the accomplishment of an en- terprise." This enterprising officer had by no means the resources of Maine at his command, for there was no timber in the vicinity; but the road was con- structed, nevertheless, and the train passed in safety over it. After this there were no extraordinary difficulties to be overcome, and General Pierce, on the seventh of August, reached the head quarters of General Scott at Puebla, with his brigade, which, after undergo- ing some changes on the way at Perote, consisted of some twenty-four hundred FRANKLIN PIERCE. 33^ men. The gueriUas who infested his path had not succeeded in capturing a single wagon. With this reenforcement General Scott immediately began his advance to the valley of Mexico. In the first action, that at the heights of Contreras, where the enemy's works, having been approached with difficulty, were suc- cessfully stormed with great gallantry, General Pierce was in command at the outset in the attack upon the front of the intrenchments. It was a duty of peculiar toil and hazard. The ground, the famous pedregal, was a broken, rocky surface, impracticable for cavalry and harassing for infantry. General Pierce was the only mounted officer in the brigade, and, as he was pressing to the head of his column, after addressing the colonels and captains of his regi- ment as they passed by him, his horse slipped among the rocks and fell, crush- ing his rider in the fall. This was the first of a series of disasters which weighed heavily upon General Pierce through the remainder of the brief cam- paign, but which his energy and spirit enabled him in a considerable measure to overcome. He was at first stunned by the fall with the horse, but recover- ing his consciousness, was hurried on in the battle, having been assisted to a seat in the saddle. When told that he would not be able to keep his seat, " Then," said he, " you must tie me on." He lay that night writhing in pain from his wounded knee, on an ammu- nition wagon, to be mounted again the next morning, the decisive day at Con- treras, and was enabled to hold his position and lead his brigade in pur- suit. In the course of this duty he was summoned to the commander-in-chief, who perceived at once his shattered condition. "Pierce, my dear fellow," said the veteran kindly, " you are badly injured; you are not fit to be in the saddle." " Yes, general, I am," replied Pierce, "in a case like this." "You cannot touch your foot to the stirrup," said Scott. " One of them I can," an- swered Pierce. The general, says the authentic narrative before us, looked again at Pierce's almost disabled figure, and seemed on the point of taking his irrevocable resolution. " You are rash. General Pierce," said he; " we shall lose you, and we cannot spare you. It is my duty to order you back to St. Au- gustin." "For God's sake, general," exclaimed Pierce, " don't say that! This is the last great battle, and I must lead my brigade !" The commander-in- chief made no further remonstrance, but gave the order for Pierce to ad- vance with his brigade. The sequel may best be told in his biographer, Mr. Hawthorne's, interesting narrative. " The way lay through thick, standing corn, and over marshy ground, inter- cepted with ditches, which were filled, or partially so, with water. Over some of the narrower of these Pierce leaped his horse. When the brigade had ad- vanced about a mile, however, it found itself impeded by a ditch ten or twelve feet wide, and six or eight feet deep. It being impossible to leap it, General Pierce was lifted from his saddle, and in some incomprehensible way, hurt as he was, contrived to wade or scramble across this obstacle, leaving his horse on the hither side. The troops were 33^ FRANKLIN PIERCE. now under fire. In the excitement of Hie battle he forgot his injury and hur- ried forward, leading the brigade a dis- nice of two or three hundred yards. But the exhaustion of his frame, and particularly the anguish of his knee— made more intolerable by such free use of it—was greater than any strength of nerve, or any degree of mental energy could struggle against. He fell, faint and almost insensible, within full range of the enemy's fire. It was proposed to bear him off the field; but, as some of his soldiers approached to lift him, he became aware of their purpose, and was partially revived by his determina- tion to resist it. " No," said he, with all the strength he had left, "don't carry me off! let me lie here!" And there he lay under the tremendous fire of Cherubusco, until the enemy, in total rout, was driven from the field." In the negotiations which immediately en- sued, General Pierce was honored by the commander-in-chief with the ap- pointment of one of the commissioners to arrange the terms of the armistice. Jaded and worn out as he was, having been two nights without sleep and un- able to move without assistance, he at- tended to this duty before seeking repose. In the subsequent action of the cam- paign, at the battle of Molino del Rey, he rendered an important service to General Worth at the close of that bloody fight, in interposing to receive the fire of the enemy, and, the victory having been gained, occupied the field. He would have been prominently engaged in the sequel to this battle, the storming of Chapultepec, but he had now become so ill as to be compelled to seek relief at the head-quarters of General Worth, where he remained when this conclud- ing action of the war was fought. He rose, however, from his sick couch to report himself to General Quitman, ready to take part in the final assault upon the city; but this perilous duty was happily spared him by the timely capitulation. On his return to the United States at the close of 1847, General Pierce having resigned his commission at Washington, was received at Concord, in his native State, with the utmost en- thusiasm. Welcomed to the town hall in a complimentary speech by General Low, he replied in an address of great propriety, skillfully turning the occasion to the praises of his comrades in the war. He spoke of the New England regiment in general, of its sacrifices and deeds of honor, and particularly of the brave men who- had fallen on the field. He also paid a well-deserved compli- ment to the officers furnished to the war by the Military Academy at West Point, a tribute which came with more emphasis from his lips, as in former days in Congress he had opposed the usual annual appropriation for that in- stitution. In recognition of his services, he was shortly after presented with a sword by the legislature of New Hamp- shire. General Pierce now passed into re- tirement and was again engaged in the practice of his profession. He took part, however, in the political affairs of his party, particularly in the canvass of 1848 when General Cass was a can- didate for the Presidency. The Demo- cratic party then suffered a defeat, but FRANKLIN PIERCE. 339 rallied again for action in 1852, when General Pierce was put in nomination for that high office. Previously to this election his position was strengthened in New Hampshire by his election as President of the convention for the re- vision of the State constitution, and as the time for the choice of a new Presi- dent of the Union approached he was put forward by the democracy of the State as a suitable candidate. The nominating convention of his party met at Balti- more in June, 1852 ; there was some difficulty in deciding upon a candidate, and several days had passed in the dis- cussion, when General Pierce was brought forward by the Virginia delegation on the thirty-sixth ballot. His strength continued to increase as the contest was carried on, till, on the forty-ninth bal- lot, he received two hundred and eighty- two out of the two hundred and ninety- three votes cast. In the election which foUowed, he was chosen over General Scott, the candidate of the Whig party, by a popular majority of two hundred and three thousand, three hundred and six, their joint votes being two millions, nine hundred and eighty-nine thousand, four hundred and eighty-four. He had the electoral votes of all the States ex- cepting Vermont, Massachusetts, Ken- tucky and Tennessee. The Presidential administiation of General Pierce from 1853 to 1857, when he was succeeded by James Bu- chanan, was an interval of comparative repose, marked by no extraordinary events of foreign or domestic policy, with the exception of the revival of the slavery agitation in the passage of the Kansas and Nebraska Terri- torial act in 1854, setting aside the geographical limit imposed by the compromise of 1850. In the late Go- vernor Marcy, President Pierce had the services of a Secretary of State of eminent ability, who conducted the foreign affairs of the government with firmness and discretion. Among the home incidents of the time may be mentioned the erection of a Crystal Palace at New York, following the ex- ample of the previous great fair at Lon- don, for the exhibition of the industry of all nations. This undertaking, which was brilliantly carried out, was inaugu- rated by President Pierce in July, 1853, shortly after the commencement of his administration. After the close of his Presidential term, General Pierce visited the island of Madeira and made a prolonged tour in Europe. On his return to America, he again took up his residence in his old home at Concord, New Hampshire. ANDREW HULL FOOTE. Andrew Hull Foote was born in New Haven, Conn., September 12,1806. His father, Samuel A. Foote, is known in the political history of the country, as the mover of the resolution in the United States Senate on the Public Lands, which gave occasion to the cele- brated debate on the principles of nul- lification between Daniel Webster and Robert Y. Hayne, of South Carolina. He was also Governor of Connecticut. The son entered the navy at the age of sixteen, as acting midshipman, making his first cruise in the schooner Grampus, which was attached to the squadron of Commodore Porter, sent out in 1823, to cruise among the West India islands, for the suppression of piracy in those waters. The service was a peculiar one, requiring the foe to be followed in shallow waters, and employing many an adventurous boat party in close con- flict with an unscrupulous enemy. In this warfare young Foote learnt his first lesson of maritime skill and daring. The next year he obtained his warrant as midshipman, when he passed three years with Commodore Hull on the Pacific station. On his return to the United States he served in the West India squadron, as master of the sloop- of-war Hornet, and the same year be- came passed midshipman. A second three years' cruise in the Pacific sue ceeded, when in 1830 he was com- missioned lieutenant. In 1833, he was flag-lieutenant of the Mediterranean squadron, on board Commodore Patter- son's flag-ship, the Delaware. The ship cruising in the Levant, Lieutenant Foote was one of a party which, obtain- ing leave of absence, made the tour of the Holy Land, visiting Jerusalem, the Dead Sea, and other spots memorable in the scripture narrative. In 1838 we find him first-lieutenant of the sloop-of- war John Adams, sailing round the globe with Commodore Read. In this extended voyaging he was engaged in an attack on certain towns of the island of Sumatra, whose natives had mur- dered the captain of an American mer- chantman. He was also engaged in the more grateful duty to a man of his dis- position of rendering assistance to the American missionaries of Honolulu, who had suffered some persecution from the French naval commander on the station. From 1841 to 1843 he was on duty at the Naval Asylum, at Phila- delphia, where he was zealously en- gaged in promoting the cause of tem- perance among its sailor inmates. In his next cruise, in the year last men- tioned, as first-lieutenant with Cap- tain Breese, of the Cumberland, he still 7*Zt. ANDREW HULL FOOTE. 341 further endeavored to carry out his temperance principles on the high seas, and succeeded in persuading the crew to dispense with the spirit ration, estab- lishing at the same time a religious ser- vice in which he officiated, preaching to and praying with the men. On his re- turn home in 1845, he was employed for several years at the navy yard at Charlestown, Mass., after which, in 1849, he was assigned to the command of the brig Perry, and ordered to the coast of Africa to join the squadron stationed there, in accordance with the treaty with Great Britain to enforce the laws of the two countries for the suppression of the slave trade. Of this cruise, which occupied the next two years, and which was eminently successful in the objects of the mission, Commander Foote, in 1854, published an ample narrative, with incidental discussions on slavery, its history and morality, a par- ticular account of Liberia, and a plea for colonization and protection of the African race, in a volume entitled " Africa and the American l£lag." His next cruise, on the China station in command of the sloop-of-war Ports- mouth, is memorable for his prompt vindication of the American flag in the attack upon the Barrier Forts in the harbor of Canton. It was on the eve of the war between the English and Chinese, when in view of the unsettled state of affairs, it was necessary to afford timely protection to American interests. In the discharge of this duty Commander Foote was fired upon in his boat in the Can- ton waters, and for this outrage urged Commodore Armstrong, in' command u.—43 of the American squadron, to an attack upon the forts. The Portsmouth, as- sisted by the Levant, was ordered to this duty. The two ships gallantly approached the forts, four in number, and after a vigorous bombardment, a storming party was formed which landed and gallantly captured the works. After visiting Siam and Japan, and other places of interest, Commander Foote returned to the United States in 1858, when he was assigned to the charge of the navy yard at New York. There he was stationed at the out- break of the Southern rebellion, which brought him into active service in a new sphere of duty. Promoted to a captaincy in July, 1861, in September he was ordered to the command of the river flotilla, or fleet building on the Ohio, to operate against the rebels, and effect the re-opening of the navigation of the Mississippi. With his customary energy he entered upon this new career, hastening the work of preparation of the flotilla, which he brought nobly into action in the successful attack upon Fort Henry, on the Tennessee, on the sixth of February, 1862. Taking the lead in the flag-ship, Cincinnati, fol- lowed by the Essex and other gunboats of the squadron, the fort Ou the river bank was attacked at short range, and after a severe and closely-contested action |bf one hour and fifteen minutes, was compelled to surrender to the navy alone, the cooperating land forces not being in time for the conflict. Returning to Cairo to refit in haste for further opera- tions, the next Sunday found Captain Foote in the pulpit of the Presbyterian church of that place, preaching an ex- 342 ANDREW HULL FOOTE. cellent sermon in the absence of the pastor, and offering humble and hearty thanks for his victory. The capture of Fort Henry was speedily followed on the fourteenth, by the attack upon Fprt Donelson, on the Cumberland, by the gunboats under Captain Foote, in cooperation with the investment by land, of General Grant. In this action Captain Foote was wounded in the ankle, a painful and annoying injury which brought him to the use of crutches, but which he did not permit to disable him from active duty. Hastening to the Mississippi, he advanced to the siege and capture of Island No. X, through the months of March and April, directing with wonted energy and perseverance the naval ope- rations of the flotilla, which materially assisted the army in the reduction of that stronghold. In the midst of the bombardment with which the siege commenced, Captain Foote received, on the deck of his flag-ship the Benton, the news of the death of his second son, a promising youth of thirteen, which occurred at the family residence, at New Haven. The island having: fallen, and the success of the naval movements on the Mississippi being as- sured, Captain Foote, still suffering from his wound, was relieved from duty and returned home to recruit his tain Foote for his eminent services and gallantly at Fort Henry, Fort Donelson, and Island No. X. He also received the commission of Rear Admiral, the highest rank in the service under the new act of July, regulating the grade of line officers of the Navy. On partially recovering his strength, Rear Admiral Foote was employed as Chief of the Bureau of Equipment and Recruiting, and his health being ap- parently established, in June, 1863, was appointed to the command of the South Atlantic Blockading Squadron, charged with the operations against Charleston and other points of that department. He was on his way to this honorable post of duty when he was taken ill at the city of New York, of a disease of the kidneys, and after a short, and severe illness, died at the Astor House, June 26th. His remains were taken to New Haven, where, in the public funeral services every honor was paid his memory. The Secretary of the Navy, the Hon. Gideon Welles, in a general order from the Navy Depart- ment, expressed the feeling of the nation of his worth. " Among the no- ble and honored dead," was its lan- guage, " whose names have added lus- tre to our naval renown, and must ever adorn our national annals, few will stand more prominent than that of the battered health. At the suggestion ^gallant and self-sacrificing Christian of President Lincoln, a joint resolution was passed by Congress, thanking Cap- sailor and gentleman whose now deplore." loss we ^ Yr^m^/ & <2sP?Y&/£s/ 77^/7?^ JAMES BUCHANAN. James Buchanan, the fifteenth Pre- sident of the United States, was born in Franklin County, Pennsylvania, at a spot called Stony Batter, April 22, 1791. His father, of the same name, was an emigrant to the United States from the county of Donegal, Ireland, the very year which closed the war of the Revolution with the declaration of peace. He married, in his new home in Pennsylvania, Miss Elizabeth Spear, the daughter of a farmer of Adams County, in the State. James Buchanan, the elder, became a thriving man, plac- ing his son on the first stage of his fu- ture advancement by providing him a collegiate education. The youth was entered at Dickinson College, Pennsyl- vania, and graduated from that institu- tion in 1809, at the age of seventeen, with credit. He then inrmediately be- gan the study of the law, with Mr. James Hopkins, of Lancaster, and was admitted to practice in 1812. He con- tinued for nearly thirty years assidu- ously devoted to the profession, reaping a fair share of its pecuniary rewards. His first entrance upon political life was at the age of twenty-three, when he became a member of the Pennsylva- nia Legislature. It was the last year of the war with England, of which, from the outset, he had been an earnest 843 advocate, carrying his zeal so far as tc march as a private soldier in a company organized at Lancaster to proceed to the defence of Baltimore, when Wash- ington had been invaded by the enemy. The company actually made their way to Baltimore, where they were dis- charged, the occasion for their services having passed by. He was an active supporter of war measures in the legis- lature of his State, counselling stringent means of defence, and advocating a loan to the United States to pay the militia of the State called into the public ser- vice. In 1820, Mr. Buchanan took his seat in the House of Representatives, and continued a member by successive re- elections for ten years. This period embraced many important public mea- sures, in which he took a prominent part. He was opposed to a tariff for protection, and to a general bankrupt law; when John Quincy Adams was elected, he opposed his favorite project of the Panama mission, and gave his zealous support to the advancement of General Jackson. On that chieftain's election to the Presidency, which was promoted by his influence in Pennsyl- vania, he was placed at the head of the Judiciary committee, and was one of the five managers chosen by the House 344 JAMES BUCHANAN. to conduct the prosecution of Judge James II. Peck, of the District Court of the United States for Missouri, against whom articles of impeachment were passed for an undue exercise of authority, in silencing and imprisoning a lawyer in his court, who had presumed to criticise one of his decisions. Judge Peck was defended before the Senate by William Wirt and Jonathan Meri- deth. The case was closed by Mr. Buchanan. The result was the pas- sage of a law calculated to prevent a recurrence of the offence. In 1831, Mr. Buchanan received the appointment from President Jackson of Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Ple- nipotentiary to St. Petersburg, and suc- ceeded in the object of his mission in securing a valuable commercial treaty, opening to our merchants important privileges in the Russian waters. On his return, in 1833, he was elected to the United States Senate, where he rendered important partisan services to the administration of General Jackson, then closely pressed in that body by a combination of its greatest political » leaders, Clay, Calhoun, and Webster. He was always opposed to the agitation of the subject of slavery in Congress, regarding the discussion of the topic at the North as alike injurious to the pros- pects of the slave and the integrity of the Union. These were his views when the right of petition brought the dis- cussion before Congress, and he re- mained steadily on the side of the South in all matters of this nature, where the institution was concerned. An ardent supporter of President Jackson, he, of course, gave his influence in favor of the expunging resolutions of Senator Benton, which crowned the long list of Congressional triumphs of the retiring President. To the administration of his successor, Mr. Van Buren, Mr. Bu- chanan gave important aid in his advo- cacy of the establishment of an inde- pendent treasury, and when that mea- sure was temporarily set aside under the presidency of General Harrison and Tyler, he was urgent in his efforts to defeat the banks, or fiscal institutions, proposed in its place. On all the test questions of the democratic party, Mr. Buchanan preserved political consist- ency. With one, in particular, he espe cially identified himself—the Annexa- tion of Texas. He was for immediate action on its first introduction into the Senate, and when it was afterwards adopted, at the close of Tyler's admin- istration, he stood alone in the commit- tee on foreign relations in favor of the measure. Mr. Polk succeeded to the Presidency in 1845, when Mr. Buchanan was called to his cabinet as Secretary of State. It was an important era in the foreign relations of the country, when the office was no sinecure. The North-western Boundary question was to be settled with England, and on the South-west- ern frontier another difficulty of no ordinary magnitude existed, in the threatened conflict with Mexico. The former was settled on a compromise basis, adopting the parallel of lati- tude of 49° instead of the ultra de- mand, insisted upon by certain mem- bers of the party, and advocated in an elaborate state paper by Mr. Buchanan himself, of 54° 40'. The Government, JAMES BUCHANAN. 345 in fact, had become pledged to the lat- ter, but the difficulty was solved by re- ferring the matter to the Senate, where the compromise line was accepted. The Mexican question was of graver re- sponsibility. It was met by the admin- istration as a war measure, and by the spirit and energy of the army of the country, and the volunteers called to the field, was successfully carried through, while efforts were constantly made to bring the contest to an end by negotiations for peace. When the en- emy was thoroughly humbled, and his capital gained possession of, the latter finally prevailed. It is to the credit of our government that the war was con- ducted in no sanguinary spirit of cru- elty, and that its terms of reconciliation, though they proved in the end highly advantageous to the victors, were, all things considered, neither exacting nor humiliating to the conquered. At the close of Mr. Polk's Presidency, Mr. Buchanan retired to his home in Pennsylvania, in the neighborhood of Lancaster, where he lived in compara- tive retirement, till Mr. Pierce coming into office in 1853, he was appointed Minister to England. He accepted the post and was occupied, in the course of its duties, in a negotiation of the Cen- tral American question, and also, inci- dentally, in a discussion respecting the possession of the island of Cuba. The latter, known as the Ostend Conference, grew out of the design of the President to purchase the island if possible, from Spain, and for this purpose a consulta- tion was had in Europe between the American Ministers to Spain, France, and England, who might aid the under- taking by mutual counsel. The history of this proceeding is thus given in the recent notice of President Buchanan in " Appleton's Cyclopedia." " Ostend was first selected for the place of meeting;, but the conferences were subsequently adjourned.to Aix la Chapelle. The American Ministers kept written min* utes of their proceedings, and of the conclusions arrived at, for the purpose of future reference, and for the informa- tion of their government at home. These minutes were afterwards styled a 'protocol,' though they contained nothing but memoranda to be for- warded for consideration to the autho- rities in Washington. They were not intended to be submitted to a foreign power. They contained no proposition, laid down no rule of action, and in no manner whatever interfered with our regular diplomatic intercourse. The President desired to know the opinions of our Ministers abroad on a subject which deeply concerned the United States, and the Ministers were bound to furnish it to him. Their minutes ex- hibited the importance of the island to the United States, in a commercial and strategical point of view, the advan- tages that would accrue to Spain from the sale of it at a fair price, such as the United States might be willing to pay for it, the difficulty which Spain would encounter in endeavoring to keep pos- session of it by mere military power. the sympathy of the people of the United States with the inhabitants of the island, and, finally, the possibility that Spain, as a last resort, might en- deavor to Africanize Cuba, and become instrumental in the reenactin■>' of the :; 16 JAMES BUCHANAN. scenes of St. Domingo. The American Ministers believed that in case Cuba was about to be transformed into an- other St. Domingo, the example might act perniciously on the slave population of the Southern States of our own con- federacy, and there excite the blacks to similar deeds of violence. In this case, they held that the instinct of self-pre- servation would call for the armed in- tervention of the United States, and we should be justified in wresting the island by force from Spain." Mr. Buchanan returned home in the spring of 1856, and in the following summer received the nomination for the Presidency from the Democratic con- vention which met at Cincinnati. In the contest which ensued with Colonel Fremont, the candidate of the new Republican party, he was elected Pre- sident of the United States by the vote of nineteen out of thirty-one States. The popular vote was, for Buchanan, 1,803,029; for Fremont, 1,342,164; for Fnlmore, 874,625. The main interest of Mr. Buchanan's administration cen- tered in the discussion of the control of the territories in reference to the in- troduction of Slavery. The ominous agitations regarding Kansas, itself the theatre of bloody conflict, employed much of this period. At the close of Mr. Buchanan's term the clouds which had been gathering since its commencement broke in the storm of war. The election of his successor, Mr. Lincoln, the candidate of the Re- publican party, was followed by seces- sion in the Southern States, and there was no weapon in the hands of Mr. Buchanan powerful enough to arrest the rebellion. He spoke entreatingly, persuasively, in favor of the preserva- tion of the Union; but the South, whose interests he had so long served, was deaf to his appeals. The crisis which had arrived was destined to shatter his political creed. Deserted by his old friends in Congress and even in his cabinet, he summoned to his aid new counsellors like Scott, Dix, Stanton, Holt, and others whose patriotism re- deemed the last days of his administra- tion. In weakness, sorrow, almost in despair of the future of his country, he assisted at the inauguration of his successor, and left Washington for the retirement of his home in Penn sylvania. MILLARD FILLMORE. The family of Millard Fillmore has an honorable descent in American his- tory. Its records are diversified by remarkable incidents of war and ad- venture. John Fillmore, the great- grandfather of the President of the United States, and the common ances- tor of all of that name in the United States, was born at Ipswich, Massachu- setts, about the beginning of the eight- eenth century. He is recollected as the hero of a brave and successful struggle with certain pirates into whose hands it was his luck to fall in a sail- ing venture out of Boston. He was about nineteen when he sailed in a fishing vessel from that port, and had been but a few days at sea when the craft was captured by a noted pirate ship commanded by one Captain Phil- lips. Fillmore became a prisoner, and so continued on board the ship for nine months, steadily refusing his liberty on the only condition on which it would be granted, to sign the piratical articles of the vessel and take part in its for- tunes. Though threatened with death, he persisted in his denial, till finally, two others having been taken captive, he joined with them in an attack on the crew; several were killed; the ves- sel was rescued and carried safely into Boston. The surviving pirates were tried and executed, and the captors were honored by the thanks of the British government. Young Fillmore afterwards settled in Connecticut, where he died. His son, Nathaniel, was an early settler in the Hampshire Grants, at Bennington, a frontier posi- tion in those days which, as a matter of course, made him a soldier in the seven years' war with France. He was also a gallant Whig of the Revolution, serving, when his home became the the- atre of hostilities, as lieutenant under General Stark, in the spirited and deci- sive conflict at Bennington. He died in 1814, leaving a son, Nathaniel, who early in life migrated to what is now called Summer Hill, in Cayuga County, New York, where he followed the life of a farmer. There his son Millard, the future President, was born, January 7, 1800. The family shortly after re- moved to another place in the same county. " The narrow means of his father," we are told in a narrative of these early years, published some years since in the "American Review," " deprived Millard of any advantages of education beyond what were afforded by the imperfect and ill-taught common schools of the county. Books were scarce and dear, and at the age of fifteen, when more favored 847 343 . MIILLARD youths are far advanced in their classi- cal studies, or enjoying in colleges the benefit of well-furnished libraries, young Fillmore had read but little except his common-school books and the Bible. At that period he was sent into the then wilds of Livingston County to learn the clothier's trade. He remained there about four months, and was then placed with another person to pursue the same business and wool-carding, in the town of Sempronius, now Niles, where his father lived. A small village library that was formed there soon after, gave him the first means of acquiring gene- ral knowledge through books. He im- proved the opportunity thus offered; the appetite grew by what it fed upon. The thirst for knowledge soon became insatiate, and every leisure moment was spent in reading. Four years were passed in this way, working at his trade and storing his mind, during such hours as he could command, with the contents of books of history, biography, and travels. At the age of nineteen he fortunately made an acquaintance with the late Walter Wood, Esquire, whom many will remember as one of the most estimable citizens of Cayuga County. Judo-e Wood was a man of wealth and great business capacity; he had an ex- ceHent law library, but did little pro- fessional business. He soon saw that under the rude exterior of the clothier's boy, were powers that only required proper development to raise the posses- sor to high distinction and usefulness, and advised him to quit his trade and study law. In reply to the objection of a lack of education, means and friends to aid him in a course of profes- FILLMORE. sional study, Judge Wood kindly -i. NATHANIEL LYON. Phe family of General Lyon has been traced in direct male line to a Scottish knight of the sixteenth cen- tury, several of whose descendants in that country were driven," in the follow- ing century, by the disturbed state of public affairs, to emigrate to New Eng- land. Ephraim Lyon, the grandfather of the subject of this notice, served in the War of the Revolution, and subse- quently was settled as a lawyer and farmer in the town of Ashford, Connec- ticut. His third son, Amasa, married a daughter of Lieutenant Daniel Knowl- ton, an officer of reputation in the old French war and the War of the Revo- lution, and brother of the memorable Colonel Knowlton, whose skill and valor were so serviceable at Bunker Hill, and who ended his days on the field in the army of Washington, at Harlem Heights. Nathaniel, the fourth son of Amasa, and the seventh of a family of nine children, was born at the old farm-house in Ashford, July 14th, 1818. A thoughtful and studious boy, he diligently availed himself of the means of instruction within his reach at the district school of the town, and warmed by the patriotic blood which ran in his veins, and the example of his ancestors, early formed the reso- lution of entering the army. His pre- liminary education having been com- pleted at an academy at Brooklyn, Ct., he was admitted a cadet at West Point, in 1837. His time was profitably passed at this institution, and at the expiration of his course in 1841, stand- ing eleventh in a class of fifty-two, he was sent forth to the world Second Lieutenant in the Second Regiment of Infantry. The first service to which he was called was in the Florida War, which was then drawing to a close, after hav- ing for six years taxed the best efforts of successive military commanders of dis- tinction. Lieutenant Lyon's company was distinguished by its activity in the concluding military operations in 1842. He was next stationed at Sachet's Har- bor, where we find him employing his leisure in the reading of law and in other studies, cultivating an independ- ent habit of thinking, opposed to the annexation of Texas, and foreseeing in it the germ of hostilities. When the war broke out in 1846, he was sent with his company to join the column of General Taylor on the Rio Grande. He reached the army after the capture of Monterey, and was presently ordered with his company to the command of General Scott, then about to advance upon the capital. Lieutenant Lyon 851 352 NATHANIEL LYON. forces at Lobos Island, them at the landing joined Scott's and was with at Vera Cruz, and in the siege ope- rations against that city. Attached to the advanced division of General Twiggs, he was actively engaged in the battle of Cerro Gordo, and subse- quently, in the actions of Contreras and Cherubusco, for his gallantry in which, he was made Brevet Captain. On his return to the United States, Captain Lyon was ordered to California, where he was for several years employed in active service in campaigns among the Indians, in which he was distinguished by the promptness and celerity of his movements. His conduct of an expe- dition in northern California against the Indians of Clear Lake, who had committed various outrages calling for redress, gained for him the applause of his brother officers, who, in the words of General Persifer F. Smith, the com- mander of the Department, " All unite in awarding to Captain Lyon the highest praise for his untiring energy, zeal, and skill." In 1852 he obtained leave of absence to visit his home, to which he was recalled by the illness of his mother, to whom he was tenderly at- tached. She died, however, before his arrival. Returning to California, he was or- dered the following year to the East, and after passing a portion of the win- ter and spring of 1854 at Washington, where the discussion of the relations of the nation to slavery much engaged his attention, he was sent to the terri- tory of Kansas, where the question was about to be answered in physical argu- ments of a more practical character than the speeches of Congressmen. Lyon, by principle and the con- stitution of his mind, was in favor of freedom, and he watched the ap- proach of the coming struggle with a solemn sense of responsibility. Im- patient of the efforts made to force slavery upon the virgin territory, he determined, if ordered into Kansas to enforce the laws of the unfairly-elected pro-slavery legislature, to resign his commission rather than fight against his convictions of duty. He was sent, however, upon other service among the Indians of the Far West, where his time was chiefly passed in various arduous duties down to the period of his em- ployment in the opening scenes of the War for the Union, in Missouri. Pre- viously to these events he had written a series of articles in favor of the suc- cess of the Republican party in the Pre- sidential election, which were printed in the summer and autumn of 1859 in the " Western Kansas Express," and which have since been collected into a volume, and published in New York. On the inauguration of President Lincoln, Captain Lyon was placed in charge of the arsenal at St. Louis. The forethought and capacity which he displayed in this command deter- mined the political fortunes of the State. The Governor and a large party of wealthy, influential citizens were ready and anxious to side with the South in the rebellion inaugurated in South Carolina. Under the pretence of armed neutrality, though a con- vention which had been called had pronounced in favor of the Union, it was the effort of Governor Jackson and NATHANIEL LYON. 353 the Legislature to hold the power of the State in their hands under in- fluences adverse to the National Gov- ernment. To resist this, and keep Mis- souri loyal to the Union, was the work of Captain Lyon, to which he devoted every energy. With a handful of men at the arsenal, he baffled the efforts of a mob of insurgents who beset the place, and secured the removal of a large quantity of arms stored there, to Illinois. A few days after this incident, on the thirtieth of April, he was for- mally authorized by President Lincoln to enroll a force of ten thousand citi- zens of the State, and, if necessary for the preservation of the peace, and the authority of the United States, pro- claim martial law. On the sixth of May, affairs at St. Louis were approaching a crisis. The local Police Commissioners demanded the withdrawal of the Federal troops which Captain Lyon had collected, from the grounds around the arsenal, which Captain Lyon refused, and a few days after, on the tenth, himself marched to disperse a band of militia which had been established by the Governor, in a camp near the city, and which was named after him, Camp Jackson. Captain Lyon surrounded the encampment with his men, planting cannon on the adjacent heights, and demanded an immediate surrender. General Frost, in command of the militia, accordingly surrendered the whole force as prisoners of war. As they were marched to the city, an as- sault was made on Captain Lyon's 1 tome Guard, which fired in return; a number were killed and wounded, and the greatest alarm and confusion pre- vailed that night in the city. Order was, however, restored by the military. The next day, General Harney arrived and took command in the city, and a few days after Captain Lyon was ap- pointed by the President, Brigadier- General of Volunteers. When General Harney soon after was recalled, in consequence of an injudi- cious concession in an arrangement with General Price, of the State militia, General Lyon succeeded him in the De- partment. An interview with Governor Jackson was presently (on the eleventh of June) held with General Lyon at St. Louis, in which the former promised to disband the State Guard and militia, and demanded in return the breaking up of the Home Guard by the General Gov- ernment, and that no portion of its troops should occupy any new portion of the State. General Lyon, knowing that Missouri could be held only by positive authority, refused any such negotiation, and Governor Jackson left for Jefferson City, where he fulminated an address " to the people of Missouri," calling for 50,000 men to repel inva- sion. General Lyon accepted the issue, and on the 13th June, the day after the proclamation, sailed up the Mis- souri with 1,500 troops for the capital, when the rebellious Governor and his associates fled before him to Boonville, whither, on the seventeenth, they were pursued by the Union force, and offer- ing resistance in the neighborhood of the town, were completely routed. Having established the national au- thority in this quarter, General Lyon prepared to move southward, and pass- 354 NATHANIEL LYON. ing by forced marches to and beyond Springfield, again, on the twelfth of August, met and defeated the Confede- rates at Dug Springs, nineteen miles from the latter place. Returning to Springfield, his small and enfeebled force was there endangered by the ap- proach of the enemy in greatly superior numbers. Calling in vain for reinforce- ments, he was compelled by his sense of the necessities of the occasion, to offer battle on disadvantageous terms. He went out to meet the foe, attacked them on the tenth of August in their camp at Wilson's Creek, and in the midst of the perils of that day which was so gallantly sustained by the Union forces, fell, pierced with three wounds, in the thickest of the fight; nobly offering up his life a sacrifice to the cause of his bleeding country. In the simple and truthful language of Major Sturges, his second in command on that day: " Thus gloriously fell as brave a soldier as ever drew a sword; a man whose honesty of purpose was proverbial; a noble patriot, and one who held his life as nothing when his country demanded it of him." The remains of General Lyon were brought in long funeral procession, everywhere honored by expressions of profound sympathy, through St. Louis, Cincinnati, Pittsburg, Philadelphia, New York, and Hartford, to his last simple resting-place, amidst the home scenery of his youth, at Eastford, where, in front of the village church, in the pre- sence of the Governors of Connecticut and Rhode Island, and others in autho- rity, and a congregation of faithful mourners, an oration by the Hon. Ga- lusha A. Grow, the Speaker of the National House of Representatives, was delivered, and the last services per- formed. Certainly among the heroes of three wars, whose lives are recorded m these pages, no purer or more de- voted patriot has challenged our atten tion than Nathaniel Lyon. r fa/./tdite/brr;, — JH_____ LEWIS CASS. Lewis Cass was born at Exeter, New Hampshire, October 9,1782. His ancestry, both on the father's and mother's side, belongs to the early Pu- ritan stock of New England, of which his father, Jonathan Cass, was a sturdy representative. At nineteen, leaving the severe toils of the New Hampshire forest, to enlist, at the first call, as a soldier of the Revolution, he served through the war from Bunker Hill to its close with credit, when he retired with the rank of captain. He was afterwards attached to the army on its reorganization, and, joining Wayne's western army, was appointed a major, and stationed at Fort Hamilton, in Ohio. Resigning his commission not long after, he received a tract of bounty land for his services, upon the Mus- kingum River, near Zanesville. This became his home and the home of his family; and it was thus that the sub- ject of our sketch was introduced to the western region with which he be- came so strongly identified. The birth of Lewis Cass occurred as we have stated, at the close of the Revolution, at Exeter. The boy had at least one piece of good fortune in that locality. It was the seat of the excel- lent academy of Benjamin Abbott, where many of the most illustrious sons of New England, as Daniel Web- ster, the Everetts, and Buckingham, re- ceived their education. Young Cass was entered there at the age of ten and left it at seventeen, when his father re- moved to the West. On leaving their home in New England, the family did not at once proceed to their new resi- dence, but travelled thither by a round- about way, with several detentions at cities of importance, which gave the young Lewis a valuable introduction to the society of the period. They tarried for a while at Wilmington, in Delaware, where Lewis was employed in teaching in the academy; thence they journeyed by Harper's Ferry and Win- chester to Pittsburg; thence by the river Ohio to Marietta. At every step some interesting acquaintance was formed with the heroes of the late war, or some fresh experience gained of the new western world rising before them. When his father passed on to his land on the Muskingum, Lewis remained at Marietta, to study law with Governor Meigs; Judge of the Supreme Court of the territory, and subsequently with Mathew Baccus, a lawyer of the town. Two years were thus passed when, at the close of 1802, before he was of age, he was admitted to the practice of "the profession. Bu*dness flotved in upon 855 35G LEWIS CASS. him at his office in his father's neigbor- hood, at Zanesville, and he was speedily accepted as one of the rising men of the new country. He was married in 1806 t<> Elizabeth Spencer, daughter of a gentleman of New York, who had settled in Virginia, and, the same year, was first introduced to political life by his election as a member of the Ohio Legislature, which then assembled at Chillicothe, the capital of the new State. The Ohio River was at that moment attracting the public attention as the scene of Colonel Burr's supposed trea- sonable preparations in the equipment of a fleet of boats, with the intention, as some thought, of separating the western States and dismembering the Union. x\ messenger, the Chief Clerk in the Department of State, was sent by President Jefferson to ascertain the public sentiment and condition of things in Ohio. He was in communi- cation with the Governor, and the Governor brought the matter before the" Legislature. A special committee was appointed, on which Mr. Cass was placed, to investigate the affair. A bill was in consequence reported by him conferring power upon the Gover- nor to arrest all concerned in the con- spiracy. The boats were seized and the affair put an end to. Mr. Cass fur- ther signalized his patriotism and de- votion to Jefferson, by proposing an address to the President, which was adopted by the Legislature. It was clear in its professions of attachment to the Union and the Constitution. Pre- sident Jefferson replied to the address with unusual satisfaction. " The hand of the people," he wrote, " has given a mortal blow to a conspiracy, which, in other countries, would have called for an appeal to arms, and has proved that government to be the strongest, of which every man feels himself a part. It is a happy illustration, too, of pre- serving to the State authorities all the vigor which the Constitution foresaw would be necessary, not only for their own safety, but for that of the whole." Whether owing to the part borne by Mr. Cass in this affair or not, the next year the President appointed him to the office of United States Marshal for the State of Ohio, which he held till the close of the year 1811, when the threatening aspect of the Indians on the frontier, and the imminent war with Great Britain, led to a call for volunteer troops in the State, and he volunteered his services as a member of the newly raised force. Joining this body at the rendezvous at Dayton, in the spring of 1812, he was assigned to the command of one of the three regi- ments thus formed, and commissioned as colonel. The whole, united with a body of regulars under Colonel Miller, was placed under the command of Brigadier-General Hull, the Governor of the Michigan Territory. The design was to invade Canada from Detroit, cooperate with a similar attack at Nia- gara, and, joined by a force from Pitts- burg, advance to the conquest of Montreal. In accordance with this general plan, Colonel Cass led his troops a rough and wearisome march, two hundred miles through the wilder- ness, from the station at Urbanna to Detroit. When, on the last day of LEWIS CASS. 357 June, the expedition reached the rapids of the Maumee, near its entrance into Lake Erie, General Hull, not even then aware that war had been declared at Washington, on the eighteenth sent his sick, a portion of his stores and bag- gage, forward by water, to Detroit. The British, it appeared, were better informed than he was. They knew that war had commenced, and quietly, from their station at Maiden, captured his vessel on its approach to the De- troit River. With the spoils were the private papers of Hull, so that the enemy was put in possession of all the military details and objects of his expe- dition. The American general received the news of the declaration after this event. Notwithstanding, however, the advantage thus gained, the British made no effort to intercept the march, which was successfully pursued to De- troit. There a council of war was calh-d, in which Colonel Cass advo- cated rapid action, in an attack upon Maiden, while General Hull was irreso- lute, but presently yielded to the move- ment. The army crossed the river on the 11th of July, Colonel Cass taking the advance, and being the first to land on British soil after the declaration of war. There was some delay waiting for artillery at Windsor, on the shore opposite to Detroit, while a proclama- tion, written by General Cass, was cir- culated among the inhabitants. Hull Mill counselled inaction. A week after crossing, on the seventeenth, Colonel Cass was allowed to move forward to take possession of a bridge at an inter- mediate river, four miles from the fort. He managed this affair with success, ii.—45 leaving a company of riflemen to divert the enemy at the bridge, while he passed his men over the river above; he then met the British and drove them before him with loss. This ad- vantage might have led to the conquest of the fort, had not Hull, with inexcu- sable timidity, withdrawn the force from the position it had so creditably gained. His next movement was to re- turn to Detroit, in consequence of the defeat of a party which had been sent from the camp to assist in bringing up some provisions which were on the way. This retreat took place on the 8th of August. A second detachment, under Colonel Miller, was then sent to escort the provision train, which was also met by the enemy, when a sharp engagement ensued. Though the Ame- rican party held its .ground, it was re- called, the commander-in-chief having a wholesome fear of the Indians who took part in these contests and infested the region. Still a third attempt was made to open the communication with the expected supplies, which was led by Colonels Cass and McArthur. The party started from Detroit on the four- teenth of the month, the very day the energetic General Brock arrived to take the command at Maiden, and before its return Hull had surrendered his entire force, including the party led by Colo- nel Cass and his brother officer. Re- luctantly were they compelled to ac- quiesce in this arrangement. Colonel Cass, on being called to deliver his sword, indignantly drew it from its scabbard, and breaking it in two, threw it away. He was released upon parole, returned to Ohio, and thence travelled 358 LEWIS CASS. to Washington at the request of his brother soldiers, to inform the govern- ment of the particulars of this ignomi- nious surrender. For the remainder of the year Colo- nel Cass was incapacitated by his pa- role from any active part in the duties of the field. He was discharged from this obligation, however, in January, 1813, by exchange, when he was com- missioned colonel in the regular army, and charged with raising and organiz- ing an Ohio regiment. He joined Gen- eral Harrison, the commander-in-chief in the West, in the summer, with the increased rank of Brigadier-General; was with the army in its preparatory movements in the neighborhood of Lake Erie ; and, after the victor}7 of Perry, in September had opened the way for the invasion of Canada, crossed with Gene- ral Harrison to Maiden, and with him entered Detroit in triumph. The Bri- tish General, Proctor, had fled before the advancing Americans, by the way of Lake St. Clair and the Thames. His slow movement gave opportunity for pursuit; he was overtaken by Harri- son, and defeated on the 5th of Octo- ber, in the Battle of the Thames, in which Colonel Richard M. Johnson bore so prominent a part. General Cass was with the American forces, act- ing with Perry as volunteer aid to the commanding general, and, with the hero of Lake Erie, contributing greatly, by his spirit and exertions, to the suc- cess of the day. On the advance of General Harrison, he was left in com- mand of the North-Western frontier, with his head-quarters at Detroit. He had hardly entered upon this office, however, before he received the ap- pointment from President Madison of Governor of the Territory of Michigan. This devolved upon him new and im- portant duties, both of a militaiy and civil character, in making provision for the defence of the frontier, and as the Superintendent of Indian Affairs. He took part with General Harrison in the grand council of the Indians at Green- ville, in July, 1814, and was afterwards much employed in conciliating the friendly tribes, and opposing the hosti- lities offered by others, in the region placed under his protection. On the conclusion of peace, General Cass established himself with his family at Detroit. _ His attention was at once turned to the settlement and occupa- tion of the territory, which was then a wilderness roamed over by the Indians, The first step was to negotiate with them for the cession of the land. This was successfully accomplished in the treaty which he made, in pursuance of directions of the Government at Wash- ington, with the Indians in council at Fort Meigs, in the spring of 1817, a treaty by which the Indian title to four millions of acres of land in Ohio, Indi- ana, and Michigan was extinguished, and the policy of removal fairly adopted —a treaty which was pronounced by the Secretary of War, Mr. Calhoun, " in its fiscal, moral, and political effects, the most important of any hitherto made with the Indians."1 General Cass was also engaged in subsequent treaties of cession of the tribes at St. Marys and Saginaw. A military road from San- 1 Smith's Lewis Cass, p. 112. LEWIS CASS. 359 dusky to Detroit was undertaken at his instigation, and the first newspaper in Michigan "The Detroit Gazette," com- menced in 1817 under his auspices. Seeing the benefits of a good understand- ing with the Indian tribes, and for the j further development of the country, he I advised a government expedition into the Lake Superior region and the inter- vening territory to the Mississippi, with a view, in the words of his communica- cation to the War Department at Wash- ington, in November, 1819, "to examine the productions of its animal, vegetable, I and mineral kingdoms; to explore its facilities for water communication; to delineate its natural objects, and to ascertain its present and future proba- ble value;" with the further political objects of becoming acquainted with the condition of the Indian tribes in the regions, and extinguishing their titles to the land. The expedition was accordingly or- ganized, with a corps of scientific men, including Mr. Henry R. Schoolcraft, as mineralogist; Captain D. B. Douglass Professor of engineering at West Point, as topographer and astronomer; a num- ber of Canadian voyageurs, interpreters, etc., and a small military escort. Thus armed and equipped, the party, led by General Cass, set forth at the end of May, 1820. Entering Lake Huron, it pursued the Michigan shore to Macki- naw, thence by the Sault St. Marie, whore an Indian council was held, to the copper region on the southern coast of Lake Superior, advancing to the Fond du Lac, at its most westerly portion. Ascending then the St. Louis River, and crossing by the portages to | Lake du Sable, the Mississippi River was entered and traversed a distance of three hundred and fifty miles, to the Upper Red Cedar Lake. They then descended the Mississippi fourteen hun- dred miles to Prairie du Chien, cross- ing by the Fox and Wisconsin to Green Bay, whence General Cass re- turned to Detroit, accomplishing in four months a journey exceeding four thousand miles, "without the occur- rence of a single untoward accident sufficiently important to deserve recol- lection." The interesting volume of Mr. Schoolcraft, " Travels from Detroit to the Sources of the Mississippi," pub- lished in the following year, made the incidents of this tour familiar to the public. For nearly eighteen years General Cass administered the government of Michigan, continuing the negotiations with the Indians, assisting immigra- tion, and in every way developing the resources of the region under his charge. It was a position of great care and responsibility, involving many ser- vices of a novel character, which will always find their faithful record, be- coming of increasing interest as time separates the reader and the progress of civilization from this early period, already, within the lifetime of General Cass himself, grown antiquated in the history of new States of the Union. In August, 1831, General Cass was appointed by President Jackson, Secre- tary of War, on the reorganization of the Cabinet which followed the resigna- tion of Mr. Van Buren. In addition to the political cares of that anxious pe- riod, which taxed tne energies of every 360 LEWTS CASS. member of that active administration, and the general duties of his depart- ment, General Cass had charge of new Indian negotiations, and even the con- duct of a war with the Sacs, and Foxes, led by the famous chieftain Black Hawk. Nor was this all. In the same year with this latter conflict on the Mis- sissippi, one of a more portentous cha- racter was threatened in the nullifica- tion threat of South Carolina. The views of the President in reference to that agitation are well known, as well as the measures he took of counsel and defence to maintain the integrity of the Union. To General Cass, as Secretary of War, fell the delicate task of commu- nicating the necessary instructions to General Scott, who wTas sent to the re- gion to provide adequate security to the public property and defences of the nation. General Cass held the office of Secre- tary of War some three years longer, into the second term of Jackson's ad- ministration, when, his health failing under the continuous round of labori- ous duties at Washington, his resigna- tion was accepted, and he received im- mediately the appointment of Minister to France. He accepted the office with the condition that he might be allowed to vary its duties by travel in other parts of Europe and the East. The coveted opportunity presented itself in 1837, the spring of the year succeeding his entrance upon his new duties at Paris. Leaving Marseilles in the frigate Constitution, commanded by Commo- dore Elliott, he visited in turn the me- morable lands of the Mediterranean, sacred in history and literature, Rome, Sicily, Malta, Athens, the islands of the iEgean, Constantinople, the coast of Asia Minor, thence to Jaffa, whence he travelled to Jerusalem, Damascus, and Baalbec, crossing Lebanon' to Tripoli, where he rejoined the Constitution. Sidon and other places of interest on the coast were then visited, when the voyage was extended by way of Cyprus to Egypt, where he made the tour of the Nile, returning to Paris in Novem- ber, after an absence of eight months. During the whole of this journey he was occupied with study and observa- tion, of which he has published many interesting particulars, of the men and condition of the various lands which he visited. Seated once more at Paris, he had, in the occupant of the French throne of that period, a character to study quite as noticeable as any which he had met with on his travels. Louis Philippe, a portion of whose life had. been passed in America, in scenes with which the pioneer experiences of General Cass had led him to be perfectly familiar, was naturally attracted toward so intelli- gent a companion and ready listener. He talked familiarly with him of his life and travels, and communicated many interesting circumstances which, toge ther with other matters relating to the nation, General Cass afterwards gave to the public in a very pleasant volume, entitled "France, its King, Court, and Government." In 1842, General Cass was engaged in his mission in an elaborate course of op- position to the Quintuple Treaty in re- ference to the slave trade, proposed be- tween Austria, Russia, Prussia, France LEWIS CASS. 361 and the United States, one of the pro- visions of which involved the right of maritime search. He appealed to the people of France in a pamphlet upon the subject, discussing the motives of the British government and the position of his own, the various essential and practical bearings of. the question, the history of the discussion, and an exami- nation of its recent course. The treaty was ratified neither by France nor the United States. The matter, however, in the view of General Cass, still existed as ground of diplomatic jealousy be- tween his own country and England; and, thinking the ground which he had taken not properly supported in the treaty made by Mr. Webster with Lord Ash burton, he consequently, in Septem- ber, 1812, requested his recall. Before leaving Paris, he was entertained at a complimentary dinner given by the Americans in that city. He then re- turned to America, landing at Boston in December. Thence he hastened to Washington, and shortly after pro- ceeded to Detroit, where a hearty home welcome awaited him. The remainder of his public life is familiar to the public. In 1845, he was elected by the Legislature of Michigan to the Senate of the United States, and held that position till his nomination to the Presidency, in 1848. In the general election of that year he was the candidate for the chief magistracy of the Democratic party, in opposition to General Taylor, the nominee of the Whigs. He received the vote of fifteen States, and an aggregate popular vote of 1,223,795, being 138,447 less than that of General Taylor, who was elected by the remaining fifteen States. The election being thus decided, General Cass was returned to the Senate by the Legislature of Michigan for the re- mainder of the period for which he had been originally chosen. In 1851, his senatorial term having expired, he was again chosen senator for a period of six years. The following year his name was again before the democratic nomi- nating convention as a candidate for the Presidency. His election in that body appeared probable in the early stages of the balloting, which was protracted for several days, when Franklin Pierce of New Hampshire received the nomi- nation. In the subsequent election of 1856, General Cass was a supporter of Mr. Buchanan, who, on taking his seat as President, called his friend to his side as Secretary of State. There he remained in the honorable discharge of his duties till near the close of the ad- ministration, when, protesting against the want of firmness which prevailed in treating the rebellion which had arisen, and disheartened at the lack of patriotism in the cabinet, he resigned his position in December, 1860, demon- strating by the act, in the words of Senator Baker, of California, " that he loved his country more than he loved either state or place, or power or party."1 He then retired to his home in Michigan, where on more than one occasion he has given the encourage- ment of his voice and example to the War for the Union into which the na- tion was forced. 1 Speech in the Senate, January 2, 1861. ORMSBY MCKNIGHT MITCHEL. Ormsby McKnight Mitchel was born of Virginia parentage, in Union County, Kentucky, August 28th, 1810. His father dying when the son was but two years old, the family, in 1816, re- moved to Lebanon, Warren Count), Ohio, where young Mitchel received his first education. At the early age of thirteen he began life as a merchant's clerk, serving in that capacity in the town of Piqua, and afterwards in Leba- non and Xenia. At fifteen, he was ap- pointed to a cadetship at West Point, studied zealously, and was graduated in due course in 1829, ranking fifteenth in a class of forty-six, which included Robert E. Lee and Joseph E. Johnston, who, together with himself were des- tined, though on opposite sides, to ac- quire an eminent militaiy reputation in the great conflicts of the unparalleled rebellion in which the fortunes of their country were the stake. Young Mitchel now received the rank of second lieuten- ant of artillery. He did not, however, leave the Military Academy, being at once appointed Acting Assistant Pro- fessor of Mathematics, a position which he retained for two years, and which sufficiently points out the strong bent of his mind and his proficiency while in the institution. In June, 1831, Li'-utenant Mitchel was employed in 862 the survey of the Philadelphia and Morristown railroad, and in the follow- ing September was engaged upon the Pennsylvania and Ohio Railroad, which occupied him about a month, when he went to his post at St. Augustine, Flo- rida, destined subsequently to be in- cluded in his important military com- mand. There he remained until the following June, when he resigned his rank in the army to engage in the pro- fession of the law, to which he had now turned his studies, was admitted to the bar in Cincinnati, Ohio, and was occu- pied in practice for two years, when the bent of his disposition and the course of his original studies led him to open a scientific school. For ten years, from 1834 to 1844, he held the position of Professor of Mathematics, Philosophy, and Astronomy, at the Cin- cinnati College, where he won a dis- tinguished reputation by his scientific abilities, and his zeal and aptitude in the discharge of his new duties. He was meanwhile engaged, from 1836 to 1837, as Chief Engineer of the Little Miami Railroad, and in 1841 was a member of the Board of Visitors to the Military Academy at West Point. A project which grew out of his professor- ship now engaged all the enthusiasm of his susceptible nature. This was #7t<_. ^Pu^c l< c ormsby Mcknight mitchel. 363 the establishment of an observatory at Cincinnati, an undertaking beset with many difficulties which were finally overcome by his energy and perse- verance. He not only took upon him- self, we are told, to raise the necessary funds, but even devoted all the time he could spare from his duties as professor, to oversee the hod-carriers and bricklayers. In November, 1843, the copier-stone of the observatory was laid by John Quincy Adams, and the building was completed in 1845, when Professor Mitchel, to supply the insti- tution with the necessary apparatus, made a flying trip to Europe, visiting London, Paris, and Munich, making his contracts, and returning to Cincinnati, after an absence of only fourteen weeks. He now took up his quarters at the ob- servatory, and commenced his observa- tions of the heavenly bodies, in connec- tion with which he invented a new declination apparatus, which he made the subject of a report to the Ameri- can Association for the Advancement of Science, and which was favorably reported upon by a committee of that body. In 1846, he began and con- tinued the publication for two years of an astronomical journal entitled the " Siderial Messenger." In 1847, he held the position of Adjutant-General of the State of Ohio. In 1848, he pub- lished a series of ten lectures, a popular exposition of the modern astronomy, in a volume entitled " The Planetary and Stellar Worlds," which, from his repute as a lecturer, and its intrinsic merits, was received with general favor. He was the same year appointed Chief Kn- | gineer of the Ohio and Mississippi Rail- road. In 1859, he was made Director of the Dudley Observatory, at Albany, still holding his supervision of the similar institution at Cincinnati. In 1860, he published a second volume of popular astronomy, "A concise Ele- mentary Treatise on the Sun, Planets, Satelites, and Comets," in which he presented the result of his own obser- vations and the new methods which he had employed in the observatories at Cincinnati and Albany. From this useful career, in which, by his lectures in the chief cities he had excited the enthusiasm of his country- men for his favorite science, the out- break of the Rebellion called Professor Mitchel to new duties in the resump- tion of his early military employments. He was among the foremost to appre- ciate the demands of the times. In the memorable meeting at Union Square, in the city of New York, on the twen- tieth of April, 1861, a week after the fall of Sumter, he addressed the vast assembly in words of stirring eloquence. Recalling his early days, when, in his own words, " a poor boy, working my way with ray own hands, at the age of twelve, I turned out to take care of myself as best I could, and beginning by earning but four dollars a month; I worked my way onward until this glorious government gave me a chance at the Military Academy at West Point, where I landed with a knapsack on my back and, I tell you God's truth—just a quarter of a dollar in my pocket," he vowed anew faithfulness to the nation to which he had then sworn allegiance. No one estimated more truly the sacri- fices which would be required in the fW4 ORMSBY McKXIGHT MITCnEL. War for the Union, and no one was more ready to make them. "I only ask,11 he exclaimed, " to be permitted to act, and in God's name give me some- thing to do." The proffer was not neglected. In August, 1861, Professor Mitchel was appointed brigadier-general of volun- teers, and ordered to tlie Department of the Ohio. He was usefully employed in the organization of the force which was raised in Kentucky, and took the field at the head of an important divi- sion in General Buell's army, in the ad- vance upon Bowling Green, in Febru- ary, 1862. A general order to his troops on that occasion was significant of the energ}7 and rapidity of his move- ments. In stirring words, commemo- rating their activity in a march of forty miles in twenty-eight hours and a half, and the flight of the foe, he concluded: " I trust you feel precisely as does your commanding general, that nothing is done while anything remains to be done." Another order of General Mitchel, dated on the soil of Alabama, at Huntsville, records the victorious progress of his division: " Soldiers, your march upon Bowling Green won the thanks and confidence of your, commanding general. With en- gines and cars captured from the enemy, our advance guard precipitated itself upon Nashville. It was now made your duty to seize and destroy the Memphis and Charleston Railway, the great military road of the enemy. With a supply train only sufficient to ' feci you at a distance of two days' j march from your depot, you undertook tin- herculean task of rebuilding twelve hundred feet of heavy bridging, which, by your untiring energy, was accom- plished in ten days. Thus, by a rail- way of your own construction, your depot of supplies was removed from Nashville to Shelbyville, nearly sixty miles, in the direction of the object of your attack. The blow now became practicable. Marching with a celerity such as to outstrip any messenger who might have attempted to announce your coming, you fell upon Huntsville, taking your enemy completely by sur- prise, and capturing not only his great militaiy road, but all his machine- shops, engines, and rolling-stock. Thus providing yourself with ample trans- portation, you have struck blow after blow with a rapidity unparalleled. Stevenson fell, sixty miles to the east of Huntsville, Decatur and Tuscumbia have been in like manner seized and are now occupied. In three days you have extended your front of operations more than one hundred and twenty miles, and your morning gun at Tus- cumbia may now be heard by your comrades on the battle-field recently made glorious by their victory before Corinth." For these and other services in Alabama, General Mitchel was pro- moted to be Major-General. His next important sphere of duty was in South Carolina, where in Sep- tember, 1862, he succeeded General Hunter in the command of the Depart- ment of the South. There, after be- stowing attention upon the military | affairs of his department, he became at | once engaged in efforts to improve the condition of the negro population, the refugees and others who had gathered ormsby Mcknight mitchel. 365 around his headquarters at Port Royal, and at the adjacent islands. With his accustomed enthusiasm, he spared no pains of word or deed to arouse their energies and fit them for the new career before them. After addressing a large assembly of the hitherto despised race, at the opening of a church built for their use, he wrote to Secretary Chase at Washington : " I have spoken to the 61ite of Boston, the solid, and the scien- tific, and the literary men of that learned city; I have spoken to the fashionable crowds of New York, in the Academy of Music; I have spoken to the rich and proud citizens of New Orleans; 1 have spoken to multitudes in almost every State in the Union, but I do not think I ever addressed any audience whose presence touched me more deeply than the sable multitude to whom I endeavored to utter words of encouragement and hope yesterday." Such was the spirit of General Mitchel in whatever his hand found to do. A fortnight after this was written, be- fore the new general had opportunity— beyond several reconnoisances which he ordered—to test the military spirit of his department, he was suddenly cut off in the midst of his labors. General Mitchel died after a brief illness of yel- low fever, at Beaufort, on the thirtieth of October. His remains were brought to New York, and after simple services at the Church of the Pilgrims, in Brook- lyn, with no display, military or civic, were interred in the neighboring Green- wood Cemetery. The moral and intellectual traits, the personal character of General Mitchel, h.—46 have been well described by a shrewd and cultivated observer, the Rev. Henry Norman Hudson, an army chaplain at Hilton Head, who joyfully greeted his arrival in the Southern Department. " In person he is rather spare, in stature rather short; with a head capacious, finely shaped and firmly set, an attrac- tive and beaming countenance, every feature and every motion full of intelli- gence and animation. Therewithal, he is a man of keen discernment and large discourse; swift-thoughted, fluent, and eloquent of speech, free and genial in his dispositions, quick and firm of pur- pose, of clear and intense perceptions, and sound and steady judgment. All who have met him in the lecture-room must have admired the enthusiasm and whole-souledness of the man in .what- ever he does or says. Yet a strong force of judiciousness goes hand-in-hand with his enthusiasm. He is indeed brilliant, but not flashing; his bril- liancy is that of a solid, not of a sur- face. Whether discoursing the har- mony of the stars, or the cause of his betrayed and bleeding country, he is still the same embodiment of energy and eloquence, with a remarkable power of tickling his hearers, and flash- ing his energy through them. In brief, his mind abounds in sinew and grip, and his spirit is brim-full of what we call snap; the two together making him bold and strong in conception, rapid and fiery in execution. As a military commander he has, perhaps, more of thefelicitas audax in his com- position than any other of our generals now in the field." JOHN E. WOOL. Major-General John E. Wool is a native of the State of New York. He was born at Newburgh, Orange County, about the year 1784, of a family which had been distinguished for its services in the War of the Revolution. Five of the sons of his grandfather, James Wool, a respectable farmer of Rensse- laer County, bore arms in that strug- gle. Two were captured at Fort Wash- ington, and experienced the tender mercies of the New Jersey Prison ship; one became a captain in Lamb's regi- ment of artillery, and was with Mont- gomery at Quebec; a fourth was with Stark at Bennington; the fifth, the father of Major-General Wool, was with "Mad Antony" at the storming of Stoney Point — a respectable military lineage for an American soldier of the nineteenth century. Young Wool, we are told, had barely completed his fourth year when his father died. He was then taken to his grandfather's farmer's home, and had such advan- tages of education as a country school afforded. They were of course limited and of no long continuance, for at the age of twelve the boy was placed in a- merchant's store in Troy, where he con- tinued till eighteen, when he opened a book and stationary store on his own account Driven from this by a fire 866 which consumed his stock, he took re- fuge in the law and pursued the study for more than a year with avidity, in the office of John Russell, an eminent practitioner of Troy. The perseverance and energy which he has since displayed on other fields would, no doubt, have crowned his labors in the profession with success, had he not been directed to an entirely different mode of life by an opening in public affairs which controlled so many of the spirited young men of his gene- ration. The second war with Great Britain was about to be declared, and new levies of volunteers were called into the field. The army suddenly offered honorable means of support fas- cinating to the youthful mind. The traditions of arms were recent in the family of young Wool, and he natu- rally sought a commission. In the spring of 1812, on the eve of the decla- ration of war, with the recommenda- tion of Governor Clinton, he received his appointment as captain in the Thir- teenth regiment of United States In- fantry. He immediately set to work recruiting his company, joined his regi- ment at Greenbush, and in September, proceeded with the regiment to the Niagara frontier. He was in time for General Van Rensselaer's famous at- 7 ?^/i^^^/>f^. JOHN E. WOOL. 367 tempt upon the heights of Queens- town. In the arrangement of that assault it was designed that the force first crossing the river should consist of equal parties of regulars and militia. Colonel Chrystie, in whose ranks Cap- tain Wool was stationed, commanding the former and Lieutenant-Colonel Van Rensselaer the latter. The boats were arranged on the morning of the thir- teenth of October for this simultaneous movement. The force ready to cross consisted of about three hundred men of each division. Owing to an insuffi- cient supply of boats, it was impossible at once to transport both parties, and in the haste and confusion the regulars were naturally the first to gain the ad- vantage. The thirteen boats which set out were mostly filled by the soldiers of the Thirteenth regiment. Ten of them landed in safety, three miscarried, and in one of the latter was Lieutenant Colonel Chrystie. This accident threw the command of the regulars into the hands of Captain John E. Wool. Upon his energy the first success of the day, so disastrous in its issue, was to de- pend. The British defences at Queenstown at the opening of the attack consisted of a battery on the heights, manned by two companies of the Forty-ninth, with another battery below on the river. The former were speedily reinforced, and a destructive fire from the whole body was thrown upon the advancing columns of the Americans. It was Van Rensselaer's intention to storm the , heights, and for this purpose Wool's command was moved forward to the base of the hill. While in line, wait- ing further orders, an attack was made upon this party by the British which inflicted serious losses in its ranks. Six out of ten officers of Wool's command were killed or wounded. He himself was among the latter, being shot through both thighs; yet in this con- dition he led one of the boldest move- ments of the day. Van Rensselaer was also seriously wounded. Though the enemy were repulsed in this conflict, a retreat of the Americans seemed in- evitable, when Wool, doubly wounded as he was, undertook to scale the heights and storm the defences. He was gallantly seconded by his officers. Choosing a somewhat sheltered posi- tion under a precipice, the ascent was commenced, the men now lifting them- selves by the bushes, now supporting themselves by their muskets, till a neglected fisherman's path was struck, which aided the movement. The sum- mit was thus gained without the loss of a man. The small force at the works was taken by surprise, and compelled precipitately to retreat. The American colors were raised, "greeting the rising sun, proclaiming at once the triumph of the Thirteenth regiment and the success of the expedition." * In the retreating party was General Sir Isaac Brock, the British Commander- in-chief on this frontier, who, having the line from the mouth of the Niagara river to guard, had hastened on the first alarm, from his quarters at Fort George, to reconnoitre the American movement. 1 Mr. Dawson's Buttles of the United States, II. 158. Mr. Dawson writes with the aid of original memoranda of the battle ov General Wool. 36a jonx E. WOOL. Ordering his troops in reserve to ad- vance to the scene of the invasion, he now put himself at the head of the de- tachment on the spot, and moved to- wards the force of Captain Wool, who held a position in the rear of the bat- tery above the village. The Ameri- cans, unable to sustain themselves against superior numbers, were driven to the high bank of the river, when one of the officers raised a white hand- kerchief in sign of surrender. Captain Wool, with his own hands, removed the signal, exhorting his men to resist to the last, and not to yield without a final resort to the bayonet. When their ammunition was nearly exhausted the charge was made, resulting in a partial repulse of the enemy. Gen- eral Brock being now reinforced was leading on his troops to a fresh at- tack when he fell mortally wounded by a musket ball. This event inspired his command with fresh vigor in the desire for revenge, but their effort was unavailing against the determined opposition of Captain Wool and his unflinching band. He remained mas- ter of the position, ten prisoners and a captured Indian chief being among the proofs of the victory. This was the condition of the valiant handful of Americans at two o'clock in the day, when, reinforcements having added to their numbers, Lieutenant-Colonel Win- field Scott crossed the river to take the command, and experience his share of the fortunes of the day. Captain AVool then retired to pay much needed attention to his neglected wounds. For this service Captain Wool was created Major, his commission bearing date the day of the battle of Queens- town, October 13, 1812. He was at- tached to the Twenty-ninth regiment of infantry, and continued to be em- ployed in the defence of the frontier. On the invasion by the British on the line of Lake Champlain, in September 1814, he rendered important assistance to General Macomb in the military movement at Pittsburgh and its vicin- ity. On the first advance of the enemy he was sent by General Macomb with a small force of two hundred and fifty men to strengthen the militia, seven hundred in number, stationed on the upper road at the village of Beekman- town. The approaching British column was composed of thousands of veteran troops. There could, of course, under such circumstances, be nothing more than a dignified retreat. That it was a well-conducted retreat, repulsing at one moment the head of the enemy's column and retarding the movement at various points, was due to the energy of Major Wool, who, with his regulars, rallied the militiamen to the work, and availed himself of every means of re- sistance in his path. General Macomb in his despatch called the attention of the Government to this heroic incident of the day, and Major Wool was, in ac- knowledgment of his bravery, brevetted Lieutenant-Colonel. In -1816 Colonel Wool was made an army inspector, the office being en- larged in 1821 to that of inspector- general. The duties of this office em- brace an examination of the entire routine and morale of the army at its different posts, the efficiency of officers JOHN E. WOOL. 309 and men, the condition and economical management of all the material of war. Th\' inspector is to exercise a general supervision of all these matters, and be prepared with special reports to the government on the state of the service when information may be needed. The performance of these home duties was varied by a visit of General Wool to Europe in 1832, for the purpose of ac- quiring an intimate knowledge of the foreign discipline and tactics, and im- provements in the art of war. His reception by Louis Philippe, then on the French throne, and by the King of Belgium, was cordial, and opened to him every facility in pursuing his mili- tary investigations. He witnessed a grand review by the side of the King of the French of seventy thousand men, and was present with the King of Bel- gium, at a still larger review of one hundred thousand. He also witnessed the proceedings at the famous siege of Antwerp. In 1836 he was employed in the re- moval of the Cherokee Indians to their new home in Arkansas, a duty which required both delicacy and firmness. In 1838 we find him engaged in a mili- tary reconnoisance in Maine, on occasion of the boundary dispute with Great Britain. In 1841 he was commissioned Brigadier-General in the line, having held the rank of Brevet Brigadier-Ge- neral since 1826. The Mexican War, of course, called him into the field. He was early summoned to Washing- ton by the government, on the actual outbreak of hostilities, in 1845, and be- came engaged in concentrating the troops at the Eastward for a movement to the seat of hostilities. The next year in May, he was ordered by the department to proceed to Ohio, and or- ganize and muster into service a large force of volunteers from that State, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, and Missis- sippi. He received his instructions on the .thirtieth of May; on the fifth of the next month he was in the midst of his duties at Columbus, holding corres- pondence with the governors of the States from which his force was $o be drawn, and with the subordinate mili- tary officers who stood between him and the recruits. Such was his effi- ciency that in six weeks, by July 11th he had organized a body of twelve thousand men. This duty accomplished, he was ordered to San Antonio in Texas, where, having concentrated his troops, he was to take command of an expedition planned against the Mexican province of Chihuahua. 'Leaving Alton, Illinois, on the fifteenth of July, the twenty-sixth found him at New Orleans, the first of August saw him landing his troops at Lavacca, Texas, and the four- teenth witnessed his arrival at the place of rendezvous, San Antonio. It was the intention to deal a blow at the enemy by revolutionizing one of his important northern provinces, supposed to be of great value to the capital. The expedition, however, might have proved of little value in this respect, had it been earned out as an- ticipated, but it was found to be im- practicable, and was abandoned. Ge- neral Wool accomplished, in little more than a month, between the 26th Sep- tember and 29th of October, a march of sjx hundred miles to Monclova, with a I i 370 JOHN E. WOOL. force of about six hundred regulars and twenty-three hundred volunteers, in- cluding Colonel Harney's companies of Dragoons, Captain Washington's com- pany of Artillery, Captain Bonneville's two companies of U. S. Infantry, a re- giment of Arkansas Cavalry under Col- onel Yell, Colonel Hardin's two regi- ments of Illinois Infantry, and Captain Williams' single company of Kentucky Cavalry. It was the period of repose, after the victory at Monterey, one of the interludes in this singular war which was encouraged and protracted by the vain negotiations for peace, and empty reliance upon the friendship and power of Santa Anna. General Worth, from his resting-place, fully impressed with the difficulties of the undertaking, saw that the northern expedition which had been projected for him beyond the mountains, even were it successfully accomplished, would be fruitless of re- sults. He therefore advised General Taylor to make a better disposition of the troops, by uniting them with his own force in a position where they could make head against General Santa Anna, who was concentrating his forces at San Luis de Potosi. The wisdom of this counsel was evi- dent, and the proper discretion having been reposed in General Taylor by the War Department, he withdrew General Wool's command from its route to Chi- huahua, and stationed it in the neigh- borhood of his own operations at Parras. At this town General Wool governed with the same discretion which he had shown at Monclova, and such, we are told, was the excellence of his management, and the conduct of his force, that upon his being summoned | to the aid of General Worth, a hundred utiles distant, at Saltillo, " only fourteen of his men were too sick to march, and the ladies of Parras contended for the privilege of nursing them."1 This friendly reception of the American troops by the people on the frontier, is a feature of the war highly creditable to the officers employed and the spirit of the men whom they commanded. It ia proof alike of {heir energy and their for- bearance. An ill regulated force never would have challenged respect; an in- humane one never could have ob- tained it. On the twenty-first of December, General Wool was at Agua Nueva, nine hundred miles distant from his place of disembarkation at Port Lavacca, in Texas, in communication with Generals Butler and Worth, who were watching the movements of Santa Anna. At this crisis a large portion of the troops of General Taylor, including the com- mand of General Worth, were with- drawn by General Scott for his opera- tions against the City of Mexico, by the line of Vera Cruz, and the plan of ope- rations of the battle having fallen into the hands of Santa Anna, by an inter- cepted despatch, .it was thought by some that the Mexican General, leaving behind him the diminished force on the Rio Grande, would turn his attention to the new scene of the war. He de- termined, on the contrary, however, first to strike a blow at the little army ! of General Taylor, who, with character- istic hardihood, resolved to meet him 1 Biography of General Wool in the Democratic Re view, Nov. 1851. JOHN E. WOOL. 371 in the field. The result is told in the battle of Buena Vista. This engagement commenced on the twenty-second of February, 1847. The spot chosen to make a stand against the advancing army of Santa Anna at the pass of Angostura, was admirably chosen for defence, and had been first pointed out as an advantageous battle- ground by General Wool, when he passed by it, in one of the movements of his troops on his arrival in the re- gion two months before. To him now fell the first disposition of the troops on the field as the enemy advanced. General Taylor conducting a portion of his command to Saltillo, a few miles in advance, left the command of the rear and the preparations for the de- fence to General Wool. He had three thousand men under his orders, nearly three-fourths of the entire army, which had but four hundred and seventy-six regulars in all. His first act was to take possession of the road at the cen- tre of the pass, by throwing up para- pets, and stationing there the battery of Captain Washington, supported by an excellent disposition of the several companies on the right and left, and in the rear. The ground was naturally de- fended on one side by the mountain, on the other by deeply-worn channels or fis- sures, and ravines in front. These dispo- sitions were all made by General Wool early on the morning of the twenty- second, before General Taylor, who had passed the night at Saltillo, came up with Bragg's and Sherman's batteries from that place. At eleven o'clock, Santa Anna summoned the little force to surrender t< his twenty thousand men, a proposition which General Taylor " de- clined acceding to," and the day was spent in movements preliminary to the encounter. General Taylor again passed the night at Saltillo, looking after its defences; and, before he returned the next morning, the battle had begun, General Wool being again in command on the field. The attack was made with great vigor by Santa Anna, who sent forward his force in three divi- sions. It is not necessary here to re- count the varying fortunes of the day. In the conduct of the engagement, as well after the arrival of General Taylor as before, no less than in the effective arrangements at the outset, General Wool was one of the master-spirits of the day, fully sharing the honors with the Commander-in-chief. Again the government was called upon to reward his services by promotion earned in the field. As before, Queens- town and Plattsburgh, so now Buena Vista yielded its honors. For " gal- lant and distinguished conduct" that day Brigadier-General Wool was bre- vetted Major-General. He continued in command at Saltillo, until General Tay- lor left for the United States in No- vember, when he succeeded to the entire command on the Rio Grande, which he held till the war was ended. Returning homeward by the way of New Orleans, Cincinnati, and Wash- ington, in August, 1848, he reached his residence at Troy, New York, where an enthusiastic welcome awaited him. In 1854 General Wool was called from his residence at Troy, the head- quarters of his military department of the East, to the government of the de JOR.N K WOOL. partment of the Pacific, at a time when the peace of the country was threatened by " fillibuster " movements in that re- gion After accomplishing the object of his mission in this respect, he was called to Oregon, where his efforts were successfully directed to quelling a for- midable outbreak of the Indians. At the end of three years General Wool returned home, to be again called into active service on the outbreak of the great Rebellion. When that disastrous event occurred he was one of the fore- most to rouse the spirit of the nation by speech and pen, to a sense of the new duties imposed upon it. In the State of New York he was at once em- ployed in the organization of troops for the field, and in August, 1861, was called to the important command of the South-Eastern District of Virginia, with his head-quarters at Fortress Monroe. His command in this region was signalized in May, 1862, by the success of an expedition which he led in person, to the capture of Norfolk. When General McClellan was placed in command of the entire force of the district, General Wool was assigned the Department of Maryland, with his , head-quarters at Baltimore. A few days after he received the surrender of Norfolk, his nomination as Major-Gene- ral of the United States Army was con- firmed by the Senate, he having pre- viously to this time held the rank of Brigadier-General and Major-General by brevet. After some months passed at Baltimore, in the important duties of his command, he retired to assume a new appointment, in the superintend- ance of the Eastern Department. In addition to his military duties, General Wool is known to the public as a prominent member of the De- mocratic party. In 1850 he delivered the address at Wcybridge, Vermont, on occasion of the completion of a mo- nument to Silas Wright. His pen also has been often employed in compo- sitions of public interest, in reply to various invitations of philanthropical and other societies, and in the discus sion of political affairs. HI II ■' '..'■'■'"I. "" p'C1:! 'I N ABRAHAM LINCOLN. Abraham Lincoln was born Feb- ruary 12th, 1809, in a district of Har- din County, now included in Lraue County, Kentucky. His father and grandfather, sprung from a Quaker family in Pennsylvania, were born in Rockingham County, Virginia. Thence the grandfather, Abraham Lincoln, re- moved to Kentucky, where, encounter- ing the fortunes of the first settlers, he was slain by the Indians, about the year 1784. His third and youngest son, Thomas, brought up to a life of rude country industry, in 1806 married Nancy Hanks, of Kentucky, a native of Virgin- ia, so that the blood of Abraham Lin- coln is directly traceable to the Old Do- minion—the mother of Presidents. The parents, it is said, partly on account of slavery, partly on account of the disputed Kentucky land titles, removed to a new forest home, in what is now Spencer County, Indiana, when their son Abraham was in his eighth year. The task before the settlers was the clearing of the farm in the wilder- ness; and in this labor and its inci- dents of hunting and agricultural toils the rugged boy grew up to manhood, receiving such elementary instruction as the occasional schoolmasters of the region afforded. Taken altogether, it was very little—for the time which he u —17 | attended schools of any kind, was in the whole less than a year. His know- j ledge from books was to be worked out solely by himself; the vigorous life around him and rough experience were to teach him the rest. His first adven- ture in the world was at the age of nineteen, when hired as an assistant to a son of the owner, the two, without other aid, navigated a flat boat to New Orleans, trading by the way—an ex- cursion on which more might be learnt of human nature than in a year at col- lege. At twenty-one, he followed his father, who had now married a second time, to a new settlement in Macon County, Illinois, where a log cabin was built by the family, and the land fenced in by rails, vigorously and abundantly split by the stalwart Abraham. The rail-splitter of Illinois was yet to be summoned to a fiercer conflict. To build a flat-boat was no great change of occupation for one so familiar with the axe. He was engaged in this work on the Sangamon River, and in taking the craft afterward to New Orleans, serving on his return as clerk in charge of a store and mill at New Salem, be- longing to his employer. The breaking out of the Black-Hawk war in Illinois, in lt>32, gave him new and more spirited occupation. He joined a vo- 374 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. lunteer company, was elected captain, served through a three months' cam- paign, and was in due time rewarded by his share of bounty lands in Iowa, A popular man in his neighborhood, doubtless from his energy, sagacity, humor, and innate benevolence of dis- position, admirably qualifying him as a representative of the West, or of human nature in its better condition anywhere, he was, on return from the war, set up as a Whig candidate for the Legisla- © o ture, in which he was beaten in the district, though his own precinct, demo- cratic as it too was, gave him 277 out of 284 votes. Unsettled, and on the lookout for occupation in the world, he now again fell in charge of a country store at New Salem, over the counter of which he gained knowledge of men, but little pecuniary profit. The store, in faet, was a failure, but the man was not. He had doubtless chopped logic, as heretofore timber, with his neigh- bors, and democrats had felt the edge of his argument. Some confidence of this nature led him to think of the law as a profession. Working out his prob- lem of self-education, he would borrow a few books from a lawyer of the vil- lage in the evening, read them at night, and return them in the morning. A turn at official surveying in the county meanwhile, by its emoluments, assisted him to live. In 1834, he was elected, by a large vote to the Legisla- ture, and again in 1836, '38, and '40. In 1836, he was admitted to the bar, and the following year commenced practice at Springfield, with his fellow- representative in the Legislature, Major John F. Stuart. He rapidly acquired ' a reputation by his success in jury | trials, in which he cleared up difficul- ties with a sagacious, ready humor, and a large and growing stock of apposite familiar illustrations. Politics and the bar, as usual in the West, in his case also went together; a staunch sup- porter of Whig principles in the midst of the democracy, he canvassed the State for Henry Clay in 1844, making numerous speeches of signal ability, and in 1846, was elected to Congress from the central district of Illinois. During his term he was distinguished by his advocacy of free soil principles, voting in favor of the right of petition, and steadily supporting the Wilmot proviso prohibiting slavery in the new territories. He also proposed a plan of compensated emancipation, with the consent of a majority of the owners, for the District of Columbia. A member of the Whig National Convention of 1848, he supported the nomination of General Taylor for the Presidency, in an active canvass of Illinois and In- diana. In 1856, he was recommended by the Illinois delegation as a candidate for the Vice Presidency, on the Repub- lican ticket with Colonel Fremont. In 1858, he was nominated as candidate for United States Senator in opposition to Stephen A. Douglas, and " took the stump " in joint debate with that pow- erful antagonist of the Democratic party. The election ended in the choice of a Legislature which sent Mr. Douglas to the Senate, though the Republican candidates pledged to Mr. Lincoln re- ceived a larger aggregate vote. In the ensuing nomination in 1860, for the Pre- sidency, by the convention at Chicago, ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 375 Mr. Lincoln, on the third ballot was preferred to Mr*. Seward by a decided vote, and placed before the country as the candidate of the Republican free-soil party. He had three rivals in the field, Breckinridge, representing the old Southern pro-slavery Democratic party ; Douglas, its new " popular so- vereignty" modification ; Bell, a respec- table, cautious conservatism. In the election, of the entire popular vote, 4,662,170, Mr. Lincoln received 1,857- 610 ; Mr. Douglas, 1,365,976 ; Mr. Breckinridge, 847,953 ; and Mr. Bell, 590,631. Every free State except New Jersey, where the vote was divided, voted for Mr. Lincoln, giving him seven- teen out of the thirty-three States which then composed the Union. In nine of the slave states, besides South Carolina, he had no electoral ticket. Alabama, Arkansas, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Maryland, Mississippi, North and South Carolina, Texas, cast their votes for Breckinridge and Lane, 72 ; for Bell and Everett, 39 ; for Douglas and Johnson, 12. In the following February, Mr. Lincoln left his home at Springfield, by a circui- tous route, through the Northern States for Washington; when in consequence of a reported conspiracy to interrupt his progress, it was thought necessary to hasten his journey to the capital by night, to secure his safety. It was also expected that some opposition would be made to his inauguration ; but the ce- remony passed off quietly, and the new President entered on that struggle of the loyal States with the great rebellion, the settlement and conclusion of which were to determine his place in history. The story of the conduct of that Avar through four years of unexampled sacri- fices by the people, of unprecedented development of the national strength and resources, transcends the limits of a brief biographic sketch. Suffice it to say, that in patient sagacity and magna- nimity President Lincoln stood forth the accepted representative and guardian of the people, who, in the recurring election of 1864, again returned him to office by an overwhelming majority of the elec- toral vote. As the end for which he had so faithfully labored was gained in the assured safety of the Union—when the long protracted war was virtually terminated—he was on the evening of the 14th of March, the anniversary of the attack on Sumter, the opening scene of the war, suddenly stricken down by the pistol-shot of a cowardly assassin as he was witnessing a theatri- cal performance at Washington, an unex- ampled act of wanton desperation and malignity, which was regarded with de- testation and horror by the civilized world. He survived the murderous as- sault in a state of insensibility but a few hours, dying early on the morning of the 15th, leaving to his countrymen a name doubly endeared by his virtues and his martyrdom. W I N F IE L WrNTTELD ScoTTwas born near Peters- burg, Virginia, June 13,1786, of a family originally derived from the Lowlands of Scotland. His grandfather, involved in the disturbances of the times, be- came a refugee to America after the battle of Culloden. He settled in Vir- ginia, and began the practice of the law. His son, a farmer, married Ann Mason, of one of the most respectable families of the State. They were the parents of Winfield Scott. The loss of his father when he was but four years old, and of his mother at seven- teen, threw the youth upon the world to work out his own fortunes. His early education in the high school at Richmond introduced him to the law lectures delivered at William and Mary College. He had chosen for himself the law as a profession, and following up the study in the office of David Robertson, was admitted to the bar in 1806 ; engaged in practice in his native county, and profited by residence and intimacy with Mr. Benjamin Watkins Leigh, eminent in the councils of the State. In 1807 the young practitioner turned his attention to South Carolina, with the view of pursuing his profes- sion at Charleston, but failing to se- cure from the Legislature of that State, the privilege of exemption from the D SCOTT. year's previous residence required in such cases, he abandoned his intention. There was metal more attractive for the young man in the stirring notes of war which sounded over the country. It was the period of British aggression upon the neutral rights of American commerce, aggravated by her insulting claims of search, brought to an open act of defiance in the attack upon the Chesapeake. The young blood of the country was stirred by the outrage. The rising tide of indignation created soldiers, orators, and statesmen. A new race of our public men in the Sen- ate, and the field, and on the ocean, date from that era. It sent Clay, Cal- houn, and others of fame to Congress, and stirred the prompt indignation of Jackson, thirsting for war, in the west- ern wilderness. Winfield Scott was peculiarly its growth. He had volun- teered, before his visit to Charleston, as a member of a Petersburg troop of horse, as a guardian of the coast, in the measures taken after the Chesapeake affair, and when the patiently endured aggressions slowly ripened into the warlike proceedings of the following year, 1808, he received from the go vernment the appointment of Captain of Light Artillery. In this capacity he was stationed the next year under *l \ N \ * \ \ * 1/ /■ 7l~ ;■>•# WINFIELD SCOTT. the command of General Wilkinson, at New Orleans, of whom he entertained a great distrust. On one occasion, sometime in December, 1809, he com- mitted the imprudence of expressing his opinion at a public table in Wash- ington, in the territory of Mississippi. Wilkinson called his subordinate to account in a court martial, and Scott was accordingly tried for the assertion " that he never saw but two traitors, General Wilkinson and Burr, and that General Wilkinson was a liar and a scoundrel." For this, Captain Scott was sentenced to a year's suspension from rank, pay, and emoluments. This enforced leisure gave the young captain the opportunity of perfecting himself in various military studies, which he seduously pursued at the house of his friend, Mr. Leigh, in Vir- ginia. The government was very de- liberate in entering on the impending war, so that nothing was lost in the way of any important occupation in the field. In the spring of 1812, we find him bringing his legal acquisitions to bear in the service of his new pro- fession, as Judge Advocate in the trial of Colonel Cushing, of which he pub- lished a report. "His able manage- ment of this interesting case, and his eloquent and well-argued replication to the prisoner's defence,'1 says a compe- tent authority, " afford honorable proof I of his legal acquirements and talents.111 At length, in the summer of 1812, war was actually declared, and Captain Scott, promoted to the rank of lieute- ' Biographical Sketch of General Scott, by Gulian C. Verplanck, in the Analectic Magazine for December, 1S14. nant-colonel in the second regiment of artillery, was ordered to the frontier, and took his station at Black Rock, on the Niagara River, protecting the navy- yard at that spot. He had not been long at this post when he was called upon to render assistance to Captain Elliott, afterward the commodore, in the affair of cutting out the Detroit and Caledonia from beneath the guns of Fort Erie. Scott's aid was given with spirit in saving the larger of the vessels from recapture. He had pre- sently an opportunity of taking the command in a more appropriate mili- tary engagement on land. The service was one of equal, if not greater cour- age and resolution, and though the issue was unsuccessful, his gallantry and resources in the field were not the less demonstrated, and he had the rare felicity of being honored in defeat. The battle of Queenstown, on the Ni- agara River, has been happily character- ized by the latest historian of these events, as " a series of engagements in which were blended the most perfect plans of operations and the most incom- plete arrangements for their execution, the most undaunted courage and the most flagrant cowardice, the most trium- phant success and the most disastrous defeat." * The most important position on the British frontier of Niagara Ri- ver, below the Falls, was Queenstown. It was defended by a fort on the heights, and was in ready communica- tion with the adjacent post of Fort George, at the mouth of the river. Opposite these positions respectively 1 Dawson's Battles of I be United States, II., 160 378 WINFIELD SCOTT. on the American side were Lewistown and Fort Niagara. At the former, a considerable body of militia, over two thousand, were assembled; while, at Black Rock and Niagara a still larger number of regulars were stationed. The force was sufficient, if fairly got into the field, to meet the smaller num- ber of the enemy, which had the ad- vantage of position on the opposite shore. The attempt, however, to con- pier their works required the most skillful dispositions and unflinching courage on the part of the assailants. The arrangements for the attack, and the direction of the entire American force on the occasion were entrusted to Major-General Stephen Van Rensse- laer, of the New York State Militia. Opposed to him on the British side was the vigilant and estimable Gene- ral Sir Isaac Brock, a leader of dis- tinguished ability. Means of trans- port were provided, and an attack planned for the night of the 11th of October, 1812, but owing to an unpar- donable mismanagement of the boats, it was postponed, to be resumed, with better precautions, in the darkness of the following morning. Detachments of regulars had been summoned from Fort Niagara and Black Rock, and a newly enlisted force of three hundred and fifty regulars, commanded by Lieu- tenant-Colonel Chrystie, arrived, anxi- ous to take part in the action. It was arranged that two parties, of three hundred men each, severally of regu- lars and militia, should first cross before daylight, and take possession of the fort at Queenstown, and be followed by others of the command on the re- turn of the boats. One of those par ties was to be led by Lieutenant-Colo- nel Chrystie, the other by Lieutenant- Colonel Solomon Van Rensselaer, the cousin and aid of the New York major- general. The latter was to conduct the movement on the British side. It was intended that an equal number of both divisions should join in the first passage of the river, but there was some confusion in the embarcation, which consisted almost entirely of re- gulars. Lieutenant-Colonel Chrystie did not succeed in crossing, but his command was gallantly led by his senior captain, John E. Wool, who succeeded, spite of serious wounds, in leading his men to the capture of the fort. Lieutenant-Colonel Van Rensse- laer was wounded in several places shortly after landing, and was conse- quently unable to keep the field. During this early part of the engage- ment, Colonel Scott, who had arrived in the night from Niagara Falls, was posted with his artillery on the heights of Lewiston, protecting the landing and assailing the enemy's works with his fire. General Brock, meanwhile, was hastening, on the first summons of the combat, from his quarters at Fort George. He came up in time to wit- ness the Americans in possession of the fort, and after an unsuccessful attempt to drive them from their position, was rallying on a fresh body of his forces to the encounter when he fell, mortally wounded, at their head. Thus closed the great first act of the day at about eight o'clock in the forenoon. The arrival at this moment of Colo- nel Scott marks the second act of the \ WINFIELD SCOTT. 379 engagement. He was ordered across the river to assume the entire command, which now consisted of some three hun- dred and fifty regulars and two hun- dred and fifty militia. He had hardly, assisted by the skill of Captain Totten, arranged these in a defensive position, when he was attacked by a body of Mohawk warriors enlisted in the en- emy's service. This was repulsed, as was also another attack of the British troops, when their main body, eight hundred and fifty in number, came up from Fort George, under command of General Sheaffe. It was an anxious moment for the young American officer, vainly expecting reinforcements from his countrymen on the other side. He resolved to face the enemy while re- sistance was possible. Addressing his men, he reminded them that they were in a position at the beginning of a na- tional war, where their country de- manded a sacrifice, to redeem the igno- minimis surrender of Hull. " Let us die,'1 he said, " arms in hand;" and all responded to the appeal. The British, thinking this small force but an out- post, approached cautiously, and as they closed in, the Americans for a time withstood their superior attack. It could not be long resisted. Their ranks were broken, and the gallant band escaped for the moment by the precipice to the banks of the river, where boats should have been pro- vided foi their rescue. There were none, and nothing was left but capitu- lation. But even this last resource was environed with difficulties. Several messengers bearing the appropriate sig- nal, were lost in the hostile bands of Indians who beset their path. " At length, Scott determined that he him- self would make another attempt. He prepared a flag of truce—a white hand- kerchief fastened upon his sword—and accompanied by Captains Totten and Gibson, went forth on a forlorn hope to seek a parley. Keeping close to the water's edge, and under cover of the precipice as much as possible, they de- scended along the river. They were exposed to a continual random fire from the Indians, until they turned up an easy slope to gain the road from the village to the heights. They had just attained this road, when they were met by two Indians, who sprang upon them. It was in vain that Scott declared his purpose, and claimed the protection of his flag. They attempted to wrench it from his hands, and at the same instant Totten and Gibson drew their swords. The Indians had just discharged theii rifles at the American officers, and were on the point of using their knives and hatchets, when a British officer, accom- panied by some men, rushed forward and prevented a further combat.1'' The American officers surrendered to Gene- ral Sheaffe; terms of capitulation were entered upon, and Scott surrendered his force of two hundred and ninety- three men, with all the honors of war. If aught could redeem the disgraceful absence of the militia on that day, it was the gallantry of Colonel Scott and his brother officers and their little band of patriots. From Niagara Colonel Scott was taken a prisoner to Quebec, whence he 1 Mansfield's Scott, p 44. ;J80 WINFIELD SCOTT. was presently sent in a cartel to Boston, where his exchange was effected in January, 1813. His release brought him again to the scene of his former exertions on the Niagara frontier. He joined the army of General Dearborn, shortly after the brilliant affair at York, memorable as well for the fall of General Pike, as for the victory achieved, with the rank of Adjutant- General, reserving, at the same time his right to command his regiment when the opportunity should arise for ser- vice: The occasion soon presented itself in the attack upon Fort George, on the morning of the 27th May. In this affair Colonel Scott had the post of honor, leading the advanced guard, or first division of boats which effected a landing. He was seconded in this movement, by his friend Captain Perry, attached to Com- modore Chauncey's marine command. The landing was accomplished under fire of the enemy—a service sufficient to test the courage and resources of the future hero of Lake Erie. Scott formed his line on the beach, with the enemy above him on the bank, fifteen hundred strong. Immediately ascending, his men thrust aside the bayonets of the foe, and followed up their first onset so spiritedly that, after an action of some twenty minutes, the enemy were flying before them. The fort, no longer tenable, was abandoned, and one of its magazines fired. Scott was struck by a piece of timber from the explosion, but, eager to preserve the work, dashed on and was the first to enter the en- closure, capturing with his own hands the enemy's flag which had been left flying. He then pushed on the pur- suit till he was recalled. There was some satisfaction in being victorious on the scene where he had recently sur- rendered himself a prisoner. Colonel Scott remained with the army at Fort George, engaged in va- rious minor military duties till the ex- pedition of General Wilkinson, medi- tating the capture of Montreal, was set on foot in the autumn, when, leaving the command of the fort, he joined that officer on the St. Lawrence. His duties led him into positions of danger and responsibility on the river, but the ex- traordinary management of the cam- paign by his superiors allowed him no opportunity of great distinction. The public was again to be disappointed with the conduct of affairs on the fron- tier. Scott, patiently biding his time, made preparation during the winter at Albany, for the work of the follow- ing year. In March, 1814, he was pro- moted to the rank of Brigadier-General, and joined Major Brown on his route to the scene of former glories on the Niagara River. Scott was left at Buf- falo to form his men, by a rigid system of discipline, to meet the trained British soldiers in the field. His exertions were not intermitted till his force of officers and men were thoroughly ac- complished in every important field- movement. Early in July, his com- mand was fully prepared for action. The British under General Riall were in force at Chippewa, on the bank of the river, above the Falls. On the ! 3d of July, General Brown captured | Fort Erie, and pushed Scott ahead toward the enemy. The next day WINFIELD SCOTT. 381 both officers, British and American, had their stations behind two small streams on the edge of a level plain, a mile and a half in length and a mile in width, from the Niagara River to a wood. This was the battle-ground of Chippewa, a splendid field for the dis- play of General Scott's newly-taught tactics against the practised veterans of the enemy. The engagement was fought on the fifth. At the moment of the British advance, Scott was about to manoeuvre his men in one of his drill parades on the plain. " You will have a fight," said General Brown, coming up; " the enemy is advancing," and he passed on to the reserve, leaving Scott to conduct the operations of the day. The British battalions were drawn up in line across the field, extending into the wood, and were well supported by artillery. They included in their ranks some of the choicest troops of the army. As their whole force was greatly superior to the American, be- ing, all told, a thousand more, it re- quired consummate generalship on the part of Scott to overcome the de- ficiency. This was accomplished by him by a masterly system of evolutions on the field, outflanking the enemy to some extent, by an oblique movement, enabling him to give effect to a bayonet charge, which proved decisive. This was carried out by the different batta- lions, supported by the artillery ad- vantageously placed on the bank of the river, and the result was one of the neatest operations of the whole war. The battle commenced at four in the afternoon and continued till evening. The American loss was forty-eight men n.—18 killed, two hundred and thirty-six wounded, and but two missing; that of the British was two hundred and thirty-six killed, officers and men, three hundred and twenty-one wounded, and one officer, thirty regulars and fifteen militia missing. The moral effect of this action was greater than its physical success. It demonstrated that Ameri- can troops could be safely brought face to face with experienced British vete- rans, and that we had at least, one ge- neral who, with ability to train and lead them, was quite willing to show himself where honor was to be won. Twenty days later, in the same month of July, was fought the battle of Lun- dy's Lane, a sequel to the engagement of Chippewa. The British, after their late defeat, had retreated to their defences at the mouth of the river, on Lake On- tario, to which General Brown directed his attention with the design of expel- ling them from the region. He was anxious to draw on a conflict, and was manceuvering for the purpose, when in- telligence was received at the camp at Chippewa, on the twenty-fifth, that the enemy had crossed the river at Queens- town, with the probable intention of capturing the supplies on the American side. The rumor was soon proved to be false; but its immediate result was a movement against the works at Ni- agara, where the enemy would be weakened by the force sent across the river. General Scott's command, con- sisting in all of thirteen hundred men, was instantly sent along the road from Chippewa to accomplish this diversion. It appears not a little singular that on so limited and well-defined a frontier 382 WINFIELD SCOTT. as that of the Niagara River, manned by sev ral posts, there should be such uncertain intelligence of the enemy's condition and movements. Not only had the enemy not crossed as was sup- posed, but important reinforcements, brought by Lieutenant-General Drum- mond from the posts on Lake Ontario, had been received at the mouth of the river, of which the American com- mander knew nothing. In fact, General Riall was on his march leading the ad- vance of this new army against the American force, when Scott, late in the afternoon, expecting only to encounter, on his own terms, a portion of the force he ha" already beaten, was suddenly confronted on his road by an imposing array of the enemy in greatly superior numbers. They were drawn up on a ridge on the side of Lundy's Lane, a road at a right-angle to the river, in the immediate vicinity of the cataract, op- posite the lower end of the American Fall. It was hazardous to advance in the face of this line; it was at least in- convenient to retreat. Scott, always ready to decide an issue of this kind in favor of the courageous course, resolved upon the attack. Time might be gained till the reinforcements which he sent for should arrive. In this respect, however, the enemy had again the ad- vantage, for their reserve, already in motion, was close at hand in their rear. They had already some eighteen hundred men in line; the entire com- mand with which Scott approached was thirteen hundred. Here again the excellent strategy of the latter proved of avail. Discovering that the British line began from the road along the Niagara, leaving a space between it and the river, he planted a part of his force in that quarter to turn the en- emy's left. On the other hand, he was outflanked by the British right wing. An attempt on their part to take ad- vantage of this, led to some serious fighting in that direction in the re- pulse. Meanwhile, Major Jessup, on the American right, had turned the enemy and captured Major-General Riall, the commander at Chippewa. The advantage at both ends of the line was thus with the Americans. In the centre the enemy stood firm, supported by their battery and their advantageous position. They bad the benefit, also, of constant reinforcements. This was the state of affairs at nine o'clock, when General Brown arrived on the field with his reserve. Disengaging Scott's brigade, who, for an hour and a half had borne the brunt of this contest, he interposed fresh troops and ordered the capture of the enemy's battery. The charge was made and was successful. The guns were taken and the height carried. Fresh attacks were then made by the foe to regain their position. These again brought Scott into action. He was already wounded in the side, but he fought on, gallantly charging the enemy as they advanced, till he was prostrated near the close of the engage- ment, at half-past ten, by a musket ball in his right shoulder. Two horses were killed under him. The loss in his brigade was six officers and one hundred and two men killed, thirty officers and three hundred and sixty- six men wounded and missing In the whole engagement, the American loss, WINFIELD SCOTT. 383 out of an aggregate of twenty-six hun- dred in the battle, was one hundred and seventy-one killed, five hundred and seventy-one wounded, and one hundred and ten missing; while that of the British, out of an aggregate of not less than four thousand five hun- dred, was eighty-four killed, five hun- dred and fifty-seven wounded, one hundred and eighty-seven missing, and forty-two prisoners.1 Both the leading generals on either side were wounded, General Brown on the American, Ge- neral Drummond on the British. The battle, in fact, was a most bloody one. Mr. Verplanck, in the narrative which we have already cited, writing shortly after its occurrence, pronounces it " in pnmortion to the numbers engaged, the most sanguinary, and decidedly the best fought, of any action which ever took place on our American continent.'1 It was remarkable, not only for the number of men who fell and were wounded on both sides, but for the fearless, repeated crossings of the bayo- net—the severest test of a veteran sol- dier's resolution. The place no less than the time distinguished this en- gagement. It was fought in the dark- ness, lit up only by its own deadly fires, its smoke mingling with the spray of the cataract, the sound of its mus- ketry and artillery blended with the uf useless roar of the mighty Niagara. It has been noticed that this victory was anticipated by Brigadier-General Scott's preferment, the very day of the action, to a Major-Generalship by bre- vet. If the voice of a grateful country 1 Dawson's Battles of the Tnited States II., 362 could lighten the severe wounds of a soldier, Scott had this alleviation of his severe sufferings, in the painful months of recovery. During the brief remainder of the war, General Scott had his head- quarters at Washington and Baltimore, in command of the tenth military dis- trict, planning northern campaigns, which happily were not required to be executed. On the conclusion of peace he stood so high in the estimation of the Gov- ernment, that he was offered the post of Secretary of War, which he modestly declined on the score of youth. He assisted in the reduction of the army; but, feeling that he was yet a 1 arner in his favorite science, accepted a voy- age to Europe, partly of a diplomatic character and partly for the object of professional study. He was assL ed in the latter by some valuable introduc- tions from the patriot Kosciusko. There was an excellent opportunity at Paris and elsewhere, of learning the move- ments of armies from generals who had served in the great European wars just closed at Waterloo. Scott availed him- self of every advantage, and returned by way of England to the United States, in 1816. The following year he was married to Miss Maria Mayo, daughter of John Mayo, of Richmond, Virginia. On his return he was assigned to the command of the seaboard, with his head-quarters in the city of New York. To the ordinaiy duties of the rank and station in time of peace in which he was sedulously employed, he added, in 1821, the publication of a system of " Gl aeral Regulations for the Army, or Military 384 WINFIELD SCOTT Institutes," embracing the results of his studies and experience in the practice of war. He afterwards presided over a board of officers called to prescribe a uniform system of organization and tactics for the different departments of the militia; and in 1835, at the call of Congress, published a new and im- proved edition of the " Infantry Tactics." Besides this purely professional labor, he advocated, in an eloquent essay of considerable length, in 1821, a " Scheme for restricting the use of Ardent Spirits in the United States," his efforts being directed, not to total abstinence, but to the limitation of the obvious evils of intemperance. In 1829, he again visited Europe, making the tour of France, Belgium, and Germany. The only opportunities for military service in the United States between the second war with England and the conflict with Mexico, were in the occa- sional interruptions of friendly rela- tions with the Indian tribes on the frontier, and the later more continuous struggle with that domestic enemy in Florida. Of the former of these the war with Black Hawk was the most for- midable. This insurrection came to a crisis in the summer of 1832, when it as- sumed the most threatening proportions. The border of the Upper Mississippi in Rlinois, adjacent to Rock River, was the main region of the conflict. Gene- ral Scott was ordered with a consider- able force to cooperate with General Atkinson, who was already in the field. This journey was a memorable one, not for its achievements at the close, for the savages were conquered before he arrived on the ground, but for the greater than warlike difficulties, the more than military heroism, which attended its progress. The year in which these events occurred will be remembered as the fatal period of the first introduction of Asiatic Cholera to our shores; and it was in the first months of that terrible scourge, aggra- vated by a still more fearful panic, that General Scott embarked in July, at Buffalo, conducting a force of nearly a thousand men, in four steamboats by the route of the Lakes, to the theatre of the war in Illinois. The dreaded pestilence broke out in the boats on the Lake. Scott reached Chicago to wit- ness the reduction of his force to less than one half of the number with which he had set out. It is needless to dwell on the sickening detail of suffering and death. It is enough for us here to re- cord the soldier's duty and humane kindness, in prompt obedience to which the Commander-in-chief, himself the while suffering the preliminary symp- toms of the disease, gave his personal attentions to the stricken and dying. He might have rested contented with the best general disposition of his troops, and left the rest to his medical officers. " But such," says an officer of the army, an eye-witness of his con- duct in these scenes,1 " was not his course. He thought he had other duties to perform, that his personal safety must be disregarded to visit the sick, to cheer the well, to encourage the attendants, to set an example to all, and to prevent a panic—in a word, to save the lives of others at the risk of his 1 Mansfield's Scott, p 211. WINFIELD SCOTT. 385 own." The simple statement of the fact needs no rhetorical comment. It speaks for itself, and cheerful is it, even in the midst of such disaster, to note the humanity of the true soldier. He is, indeed, pledged by the honorable vows of his profession, to meet death in the field, but it is a new test of en- durance to encounter the malignity of a fearful pestilence in the hospital. Let the case be reversed. How many medical men would leave their stations to lead a forlorn hope in a siege ? It is the novel, unaccustomed enemy that tries the courage. To these disheartening scenes of war and pestilence succeeded the pleasing duties of peace negotiations with the rebel Indians. Scott was associated with Governor Reynolds, of Illinois, in the interviews with the tribes, and had the chief conduct of the conferences. He managed these with such courtesy and address, that two important treaties were concluded; one with the Sacs and Foxes, the other with the Winnebagoes, ceding to the United States, and thus to the civilization of the world, im- mense territories in Iowa and Wiscon- sin. Such was the employment of General Scott in the autumn of 1832. It was to be immediately succeeded, on his re- turn to Washington, by a mission of a delicate nature, in furtherance of the policy of the administration in regard to the nullification contest of South Carolina, which was now approaching a crisis. The State, by the action of its Legislature, had resolved to set at de- fiance the authority of the General (Government in the obvious exercise of its powers, in the collection of the revenues, a resolution which President Jackson had met by a full declaration of the constitutional principles at stake, and of his purpose to maintain them, in his celebrated Proclamation. He was not a man to whom a state paper, or manifesto of any kind, to which he had once set his hand, was an empty threat. He accordingly took measures to en- force, if necessary, by the full strength of the Government, its violated au- thority. On the eighteenth of Novem- ber, three weeks before the Proclama- tion was issued, General Scott was privately directed to repair to South Carolina and take such precautions as might be necessary to place the United States' defences in that region in a ready condition for action. The Gov- ernment was not to be caught by sur- prise should the time come. The mis- sion was executed by Scott in its full spirit. He bore himself so discreetly that he made every necessary arrange- ment, personally with the United States officers, and in the strengthening of the forts, and collection of troops and sup- plies, that all was accomplished in the midst of a highly excited people, without interruption. lie left Charleston, even, says his biographer, Mansfield, "without having awakened a suspicion of his be- ing connected with impending events." In January he was again landed at his post at Fort Moultrie, prepared to pro- tect bv its guns the collection of the revenues at the mouth of the harbor. His purpose could now no longer ad- mit of doubt, but he bore himself with equal prudence and courtesy, till the occasion of his mission had passed by, 3*6 WINFIELD SCOTT. after the passage of the compromise acts, and the rescinding by the State of its obnoxious resolutions. The next important employment of General Scott was in his command, at an early period of the Seminole War in Florida. He took the field in the month of February, 1836, advancing his troops, consisting of a body of twelve hundred regulars, largely rein- forced by volunteers from the Southern States, in three divisions, from the north into the heart of the country, to Tampa Bay. The Indians, however, were a politic foe, and, retreating to their inaccessible hummocks and swamps, kept out of the way of this formidable demonstration; nor was a subsequent movement, in smaller par- ties, more successful in beating up their quarters. The season was advancing towards summer, the health of the troops suffered, and the short campaign, unfruitful in results, was pronounced a failure. There was some disappoint- ment ; but the public learnt better, 1 >y the difficulties encountered by the brave officers in the slow progress of this war, to estimate the real position of Gene- ral Scott. He was, shortly after, in the month of May, in Georgia, conduct- ing the operations against the Creeks, when he was recalled to Washington, to meet an inquiry into his management of these Southern campaigns. A court was summoned, composed of Major-Gen- eral Macomb, foremost in rank in the service, and Brigadier-Generals Atkin- son and Brady. Appearing before this tribunal, the verdict of which fully justified his course, General Scott opened his defence in the following characteristic manner: "When a Doge of Genoa, for some imaginary offence imputed by Louis XIV., was torn from his government and compelled to visit France, in order to debase himself be- fore that inflated monarch, he was asked, in the palace, what struck him with the greatest wonder amid the blaze of magnificence in his view. 'To find myself here!' was the reply of the indignant Lescaro. And so, Mr. Presi- dent, unable as I am, to remember one blunder in my recent operations, or a single duty neglected, I may say, that to find myself in the presence of this honorable court, while the army I but recently commanded is still in pursuit of the enemy, fills me with equal grief and astonishment." The reference to the President, the omnipotent Jackson, who was then in the chair, could hardly be mistaken. The relations between the two victors of the war of 1812 had not always been of the most friendly character. Jackson, who, at times, suf- fered no regard for self-respect to stand in the way of his imperious will, had in 1817 addressed a very discreditable letter to General Scott, calling him to account for a legitimate expression of opinion on what was admitted to be an illogical assumption of authority, to which Scott had answered with firm- ness and dignity. Some years after, a manly overture was made by Scott in Washington, and a reconciliation en- sued. The management of the South Carolina difficulties would naturally tend to strengthen this feeling. Its in- terruption by this recall was not car- ried beyond the grave. The news of General Jackson's death reached Gene- WINFIELD SCOTT. 387 ral Scott when he was presiding at the board of examiners at West Point. He spoke a few words of eulogy, and suspended the examination for the day, as a token of respect.1 In 1837, the prudence and judgment of General Scott were again involved to ward off the war which seemed to be imminent on the Canadian frontier. Singular!)' enough, the spot to which his efforts were first directed, was that portion of the Niagara River above the falls, where his earliest laurels had been won. It was the time of the burning of the Caroline, that high-handed mea- sure of British retaliation, consequent upon the invasion of a portion of their territory by a lawless band of ma- rauders. A strong party under the name of " Sympathizers," was eager to inake common cause with the disaffected in the provinces. There were anger and outrage on both sides, when Scott arrived to play his part of the Great Pacificator. lie stood firmly, but cour- teously between both sides; arrested, by his influence and persuasions, the incipient warfare, and gained time for the sober course of political delibera- tion, and two years later, in 1839, ren- dered the same good service in Maine, when the countiy appeared to be in still greater danger of an actual out- break of hostilities. His correspondence on the latter occasion with Sir John Harvey, formerly his chivalric antago- nist in the war of 1812, but then Lieu- tenant-Governor of New Brunswick, did much to smooth the pathway of negotiation, for the withdrawal of the * Mansfield's Scott, p. 178. I troops from the disputed territory, and the peaceful abeyance of the question till it should be adjusted by treaty. Nothing was more natural after this extended series of sendees, both civil and military, than that General Scott should be talked of for the Presidency. His political views were generally un- derstood to favor the principles of the Whigs; he was accordingly ballotted for in the nominating convention of that bod}', in 1839, which settled upon General Harrison. The vote cast *br him reached, in one of the ballotings, near one-fourth of the entire number. Henry Clay, to whose claims Scott was ever willing to defer, was the third candidate before the convention. In the conventions of the Whig party in the succeeding elections, his name was not forgotten till in the canvass of 1852, his fame in the meantime ripened by the brilliant success of his Mexican campaign, he was brought directly be- fore the public as the candidate for the Presidency. In 1841, several years previous to the breaking out of that war of annex ation, General Scott became, by the death of Major-General Macomb, the senior officer of the American armv, and consequently, next to the President, and the department at Washington charged with its general administration. Nothing can well be done without at least consulting the experience and listening to the recommendations of this officer. It is his business, beside the discharge of particular duties, to exer- cise a general supervision over the whole army administration, and, in an annual report, bring a statement of its 388 WINFIELD SCOTT condition, with such suggestions as may occur to him for its improvement, to the attention of the Government. Gen- eral Scott was engaged in these usual employments of his office at the period of the breaking out of the war with Mexico. He had not been called upon to make any preparations for the con- flict, the administration, if it had any distinct intentions in the matter, not thinking it advisable to bring them tangibly to the notice of the public. Of his own motion, however, he had called attention to the weak condition of the army in point of numbers, and, in his report of November, 1845, recom- mended the filling up of the regiments, which on a peace footing, contained but half their complement. "This," says the historian of these events, Mr. Mansfield, " was General Scott's recom- mendation, without looking at the ques- tion of war with Mexico; although it now appears, from official documents, that the war was then in the contem- plation of the cabinet. Had the Pre- sident recommended and Congress ac- ceded to even this small increase of the military force, it may be doubted whether the invasion of Mexico and the sanguinary battles which followed, would ever have occurred. General Taylor's army would have been in- creased early in the spring, and the Mexican general would, not improba- bly, have refrained from an attack, to which he was tempted and invited by the weakness of the American force."1 Be this, however, as it may, and without looking at the good or evil of 1 Mansfield's Mexican War, p. 27. thus drifting into the war, it is certain from our knowledge of all Scott's ad- ministrative course, that he would not have gone into the struggle unprepared. It was his disadvantage in the*scenes which ensued, not to be on terms of perfect understanding with the Govern- ment. The general arrangements, in- deed, of forwarding the large volunteer force were placed in his hands, and it was understood, when the first active preparations were made on the break- ing out of hostilities that he was to take the command in the field. But while he was bending every effort, and bringing all his resources to expedite the army, he was met by what ap- peared to him at least a suspicious proposition of the administration party in the Senate, to create two new major- generals, who were to enjoy such com- mand and relative rank as the Presi- dent might be pleased to assign them. The bearing of this upon Scott is thus described by the narrator of these cir- cumstances just cited. " The effect of this measure, if adopted, would give the President the power of appointing, by law, some new, or junior, or merely political general over the head of Scott. That this proposition, coming from the political friends of the President, should excite the sensibilities of Scott, with the idea that he was to be supplanted in the command of the army, was most natural. That such an idea was not unjust to the President, or his friends in Congress, was sufficiently shown by subsequent events, when the attempt was openly made, and nearly succeeded, to appoint a lieutenant-general to the command of the American army." WINFIELD SCOTT. 3sn This last allusion is to the bill which passed the House of Representatives, but which was defeated in the Senate, the object of which was to give that important and responsible position to Senator Benton, who had busily urged an active prosecution of the war, in place of the " masterly inactivity" re- commended by Calhoun.1 Rendered thus uneasy in his posi- tion, General Scott addressed, in some haste, a letter to Mr. Marcy, the Secre- tary of War, who had also complained of the dilatoriness of the commander in taking the field, justifying his course in making his preparations; but, at the same time, expressing his reluctance to proceed on so important a mission without " the active, candid, and steady support of his government." He accord- ingly suggested that " some other com- mander of the new army against Mex- ico should be selected," promising his candid aid to the new officer, " no mat- ter who he may be," and adding, in "a sentence which has obtained the fami- liarity of a proverb—"My explicit meaning is, that I do not desire to place myself in the most perilous of all posi- tions—a fire upon my rear from Wash- ington, and a fire in front from the Mexicans." We need not here pursue this unpleasant controversy further, or enter into its motives, or seek to assign the relative success of the disputants; suffice it that for the time Scott re- mained at Washington till the Govern- ment, balked in its schemes of major- generals, and growing impatient of the ineffective though brilliant achieve- 1 Benton's Thirty Year*' "View, II., 678. U.—49 ments on the Rio Grande in the month of November, listened to his request for active employment, and called upon General Scott to take the command of the force intended to strike a blow at the heart of the enemy's country, by the line of Vera Cruz. This time there was no interference. " It is not pro- posed," wrote Mr. Marcy in his order of November 23d, "to control your operations by definite and positive in- structions, but you are left to prosecute them, as your judgment, under a full view of all the circumstances shall dic- tate. The work is before you, and the means provided, or to be provided, for accomplishing it are committed to you, in the full confidence that you will use them to the best advantage." Thus reassured for the time of the support of the Government, and expe- riencing, doubtless, the satisfaction of this compulsory compliment to his military genius, he proceeded at once to the seat of war. Under his new in- structions, ft became necessary to divert an important portion of General Tay- lor's command from his line to the new operations on the Gulf; in fact, the re- duction of the army of the Rio Grande was so complete as to arrest the ad- vance of its commander, and leave him stripped of the regulars, with a small force of volunteers, sufficient only for defence, though the stubborn invin- cibility of Taylor presently made even this reduced band equal to the brilliant victory at Bueua Vista. General Scott reached the Rio Grande, by way of New Orleans, in January, 1847, sending before him a letter to General Taylor, a model of noo WINFIELD SCOTT. professional and gentlemanly courtes}7, in which, so far as words could allevi- ate an unpleasant necessity, in terms in which the motives of duty, patriotism, and even a chivalrous appeal to friend- ship, are blended with a natural, easy candor, he softened the withdrawal of most of his best troops from that com- mander. The months of January and Febru- ary were passed by General Scott on the Rio Grande, collecting his forces for the rendezvous at the island of Lobos, on the coast, preparatory to his descent upon Vera Cruz. On the ninth of March, a reconnaissance having been previously carefully made by him, in company with Commodore Connor, who had charge of the naval move- ments, General Scott led the way from the last rendezvous at Antonio Lizardo, personally directing the de- barcation of the army. The spot cho- sen was some three miles below the city, on the bank opposite the island of Sacrificios. Every disposition was made to receive an attack; but the place was found unguarded by the enemy. With this advantage and a smooth sea, the admirable military and naval arrangements which had been planned with consummate skill, were carried out with the greatest regularity. The landing of the whole force of some ten thousand, was completed in the evening, without the slightest accident. The line of investment of the city was immediately taken up. It was a work of no little labor, owing to the extra- ordinary difficulties of the ground. A raging Norther swept the loose sand- hillocks, almost stifling the troops; while the inefficient means of land- transportation added greatly to their toils. They all worked with a good will, however, completing the line of five miles on the twelfth. Ten days were passed in forwarding the preli- minary operations of the siege, landing the heavy guns from the ships, and opening the trenches. On the twenty- second, the preparations for attack be- ing well advanced, General Scott sum- * moned the city to surrender. A refusal was returned and the fire from the mortar batteries opened the same day upon the town, seconded by some of the smaller vessels of the squadron. New batteries were added, and the fire continued without abatement, and with great damage to the town till the morn- ing of the twenty-sixth, when overtures were received from the Mexican com- mander, which ended in the capitula- tion of the city and castle of San Juan d'UUoa. The town, which had offered a gallant resistance, was thus.spared the horrors of the impending final as- sault. The surrender of the fort, which defended the place from the sea, and was considered impregnable, followed, as a consequence of the taking of the city. After that, it would have been compelled to destroy what it was de- signed to protect. The surrender was' entire. This great triumph, accom- plished with little loss to the assailants, inaugurated a series of victories, ex- tending from this base of operations on the sea, along the line of the national road to the very walls of the capital. On the eighth of April the advance is begun by the division of General Twiggs. The first stand is made by Santa Anna WINFIELD SCOTT. 391 it the defile and heights of Cerro Gordo, i strong position, some sixty miles from Vera Cruz, walled in by mountains and protected by a deep river. There, with butteries skillfully disposed at the ap- proaches, in front of the crowning for- tress of Cerro Gordo, the Mexican Gen- eral, with some twelve thousand men, partly the remains of his army de- feated nearly two months before, at Buena Vista, awaited the approach of the Americans, numbering about eight thousand five hundred. A plan of attack was set forth by General Scott, in a general order on the seven- teenth of April, for the following day. " The enemy's whole line of entrench- ments and batteries," commences this remarkable document, "will be at- tacked in front, and at the same time turned, early in the day, to-morrow— probably before ten o'clock, a.m. ;"—a sentence which has its happy sequel and consummation in the opening of the same commander's next dispatch to the Secretary of War, of the nineteenth : " Sir, the plan of attack sketched in General Order forwarded herewith, was finely executed by this gallant army, before two o'clock, p.m., yester- day." The history of the battle had been thus already written. The main incidents of this brilliant achievement were the advance of General Twiggs by a road opened through the wood to the enem\,s ]ei't, where, the night having been spent in raising several heavy guns to a captured hill, commanding a portion of the enemy's position, the morning witnessed the successful as- sault of the works on the height of (Vrro Gordo, by the gallant Harvey and his command, with the immediate pursuit of the flying Mexicans. The attack upon the enemy's batteries in advance, was not at first successful but they were soon rendered untenable by the movements in their rear. The rout was complete. " We are quite embar- rassed," wrote Scott, " with the results of victory—prisoners of war, heavy ord- nance, field batteries, small arms, and accoutrements. About three thousand men laid down their arms, with the usual proportion of field and company officers, besides five generals, several of them of great distinction." The cost of this special victory to the Americans was comparatively inconsiderable—six- ty-three killed, including three officers, and three hundred and sixty-six wound- ed. The enemy's loss in killed and wounded, exclusive of the prisoners taken, was very much greater. - The losses of an army, however, are not solely to be estimated by the dis- asters in the field. The exposures of the camp, the wear and tear of the con- stitution on the march, the diseases of new countries, the reaction of extraor- dinary efforts and labors, supported by the stimulus of the horn-, fill hospitals and thicken graves more than the bul- lets of the enemy. It need not sur- prise us, therefore, that General Scott's effective force, on his taking peaceable possession of Puebla, on his advance toward the capital, after his recent vic- tories, was only about four thousand five hundred men. It was a force large enough to maintain its position where- ever it might be, and perhaps to meet in a single engagement any superior arm}- which the Mexicans might bring 302 WINFIELD SCOTT. into the field; but the further approach to the capital involved a series of mili- tary encounters and desperate assaults, to which so small a bod}-, though every man might be a Julius Caesar, was en- tirely inadequate. It was a matter of necessity, therefore, to wait for reinforce- ments. They should have been pro- vided before; but Congress had been uncertain and dilatory in action, and it was not till the seventh of August, after nearly three months' comparative in- action, that the army, reinforced by the newly-raised regiments, took up its march toward the city of Mexico. Its marching force consisted of nearly ele- ven thousand men, arranged under four divisions, commanded respectively by Generals Worth, Twiggs, Pillow, and Quitman, and the cavalry brigade of Colonel Harvey. Four days pursuing the way along the national road, brought the advance to Ayotla, in the valley of Mexico, fifteen miles from the capi- tal, on its eastern side. In the inter- vening space were the strongly fortified hill El Penon, and the well-protected pass 1 >y Mexicalcingo. A reconnaissance was made of these points with great hardihood, which confirmed General Scott's previous view, that the proper approach for his army to the capital would be, not by these powerful de- fences where the attack was naturally expected, but by another route less protected to the south. He accord- ingly, having assured himself of the practicability of this new expedient, reversing the line of march, directed the course of the army to that quarter, on the fifteenth, round the southern side of Lake Chalco. The whole of this new route was rough and perilous, and be et with difficulties calculated to test the patience of the troops. They were disadvantages, however, which mio-ht be overcome with less loss of life than the well-fortified positions and causeway on the eastern side. In three days the army had changed its posi- tion and was at San Augustine, the base of operations. In front of it were the strong position of the Heights of Contreras, the entrenchments of Cheru- busco, while, in the immediate neigh- borhood of the city, frowned the for- tified hill of Chepultepec, with its adjacent defence, Molino del Rey. All of those places, manned by the best troops in Mexico, on the approach of the American army offered an ob- stinate resistance, happily determined by their enrollment on the list of Ame- rican victories. Contreras, separated from the encampment by a rough bed of broken rock, the famous pedregal, when once reached, commanded a good road to the capital, and if taken, would turn the fortified position of San An- tonio, on the direct road from San Augustine. To Contreras, accordingly, General Scott first directed his atten- tion. General Valencia was posted there with a battery of twenty-two pieces of artillery and about six thou- sand men of the army of the north. The immediate direction of the assault fell to General Smith, who, before dawn of the morning of the twentieth, gal lantly carried the works, the Mexicans almost instantly retreating before the fierce onset in the greatest confusion, suffering heavy losses of killed and wounded, and leaving a large number WINFIELI of prisoners and a huge quantity of war material behind them. The road in that direction was now open to Cherubusco, some six miles dis- tant, and its other approach from San Antonio having been cleared of the enemy, that important position be- came the next object of attack. It was defended by a field-work at the bridge entering the town, the adjacent fortified church and grounds of the convent of San Pablo, and the banks of the river. The works were supported by the whole reserve of Santa Anna, and the best troops about the capital, num- bering in all some twenty-seven thou- sand. The same day, so brilliantly opened with the victory at Contreras, saw the defeat of the Mexicans at Che- rubusco. The bridge head, or tete du pont, was gallantly carried by a portion of Worth's command; General Twiggs directed the attack against the convent, and General Shields met the outlying forces of the enemy in a serious en- counter. The result, as in all previous instances, was the undoubted superi- ority of the Americans; who, however, in these Mexican battles, had always full opportunity of showing their met- tle and endurance. The capital was now open to the conquerors; but, with his accustomed magnanimity, General Scott paused before assailing the city, to give one more opportunity to those negotiations of peace which had fol- lowed and checked the whole progress of the war. It was literally the con- quest of a peace. At this last moment, Santa Anna was still looked to for that desirable consummation. An armistice was agreed upon, which resalied, after D SCOTT. 393 more than a fortnight's delay, in the resumption of hostilities. On the eighth of September was fought the fiercely' contested action of Molino del Key, the defeat of a greatly superior force, holding a very strong position, followed on the thirteenth, by the last crowning victory of Chepultepec, and the passage of the minor defences, opening the way for the American army to the city of Mexico. That night a portion of the army was within the city. The next day, the fourteenth, the Mex- ican army having left before morning, the city council surrendered the capital and the American commander entered in triumph. It was taken, in the com- prehensive language of his dispatch, the simplest and happiest eulogy of the many actors of the scenes leading to this event, " Not by any one or two corps, but by the talent, the science, the gallantry, the prowess of this entire army." One last military service, not less im- posing or of inferior weight to those we have passed in review, remains to be recorded of the now aged general. In the autumn and winter of 1860, when the voice of rebellion threatened the integrity of the Government of the United States, and the safety of the national capital began to be threatened by the bold hand of treason, General Scott, at the last moment, was called by President Buchanan to Washington, to assist with his council in the military preservation of the State. The invita- tion found him ready to meet it. Once and again, he had expressed his patri- otic sentiments in no equivocal terms; nor was it to be doubted by any that, 3bott concerning him. He observed that he was a very fine lad; that he appeared to have the stamina of a dis- tinguished man; that he took his rank among the first scholars in the academy, and that he wished I would send him half a dozen such boys." Such praises of preceptors, not always dis- interested, are, indeed, to be taken with a grain of allowance; but in the pre- sent instance the testimony, so well sustained by the result, is of value. It shows that the excellence of after life is but the continuance of an influence possessed or received in childhood. The sense of obligation then assumed, masters circumstances in every succes- sive relation of the man. There was an early development in the youth, for, entering Harvard at thirteen, he graduated at seventeen with the second honors of his class— the class including many members who have since become distinguished, among them, the author and politician, Caleb Cushing, and the Rev. Dr. Stephen H. Tyng. In the following year, 1818, Mr. Bancroft visited Europe for the purpose of prosecuting his studies in the eminent universities of German}-. He was at Gottingen two years, profit- ing by the instructions of eminent scholars who then illustrated that seat of learning—Blumenbach in natural history, Eichorn in the oriental lan- guages, Heeren in ancient history, Dissen in the antiquities and litera- ture of Greece and Rome. With the last he went through a complete course of Greek philosophy, and read in the original nearly all the writ- n.—50 ings of Plato, of whom the profes sor was a devout admirer. Having obtained the degree of Doctor of Phi losophy, Mr. Bancroft proceeded to Berlin, where he listened to the lec- tures of Wolf, the editor of Homer, of Schleiermacher and Hegel. At Heidel- berg he studied with the historian Schlosser, all the while making the acquaintance of the eminent scholars of the day. Before returning to Ame- rica he made the tour of England, Switzerland, Germany, and Italy, stor- ing his mind with the ample materials for reflection furnished in their great galleries of art and science, and their living social condition. At Paris, he became acquainted with Cousin, Alex- ander Von Humboldt, and Benjamin Constant; he had seen Goethe in Ger- many ; in Italy he fell in with Lord Byron, Manzoni at Milan, and Chevalier Bunsen and Niebuhr at Rome. The example of the German scholars taught him the value of labor in research, while their philosophical acumen pointed out the way to make that labor a kindling, life-imparting reality. The thoroughness of his studies, says the account in the " Cyclopaedia of American Literature," is shown in the philosophical summaries of Roman his- tory and policy, and of the literature of Germany, then rapidly gaining the ascendant, which he, not long after, published in America; while a thin volume of poems, published at Boston, in 1S23, witnesses to his imaginative enthusiasm for art and nature, as he surveved the ruins of Italy and tra- versed the sublime scenery of Switzer- land. About this time, al>o, between 398 GEORGE DAN CROFT. his eighteenth and his twenty-fourth year, he wrote a series of translations in verse, of some of the chief minor poems of Schiller, Goethe, and other German authors, which were published in the " North American Review." He furnished, likewise, for the " American Quarterly Review," edited by the late Robert Walsh, a number of articles, marked by their academic and philo- sophic spirit; among others, a striking- paper on the Doctrine of Tempera- ments ; a kindred philosophical essay on Ennui, and papers on Poland and Russia, of historical sagacity and pene- tration. In 1824, he published a trans- lation of Heeren's Reflections on the Politics of Ancient Greece. He also brought before the public other works of Heeren on the States of antiquity, and the political system of Europe and its colonies, from the discovery of Ame- rica to the termination of the struggle for freedom of the British colonies. At the outset, Mr. Bancroft's studies were directed to theology, and "he preached," says Mr. Allibone in his " Dictionary of English Literature," " several discourses which produced a favorable opinion of his talents in this department; but a love of literature proved the stronger attachment." From the bent of his mind, we may presume, had he continued in that relation, he would have distinguished himself by his metaphysical speculations. His able discourse on Jonathan Edwards, read before the New York Historical S< >ciety, and published in " Appleton's Cyclopaedia," is an indication of the fineness and strength of his powers in this theological direction. In 1822, and the following year, im- mediately after his return from Europe, we find Mr. Bancroft's name on the list of tutors at Harvard College, where he gave instruction in Greek. He was subsequently employed in the work of education in association with Dr. Joseph G. Cogswell, the eminent librarian of the Astor Library, in the conduct of the Round Hill School, at Northamp- ton, Massachusetts. All this while he was an earnest student of politics, in history and the national life around him. His views led him to embrace the principles of the Democratic party, then in the ascendant, under the strong influence of General Jackson's successful administration. He became an advo- cate of the party doctrines, promoted its interests, and was rewarded by Pre- sident Van Buren, in 1838, with the collectorship of the port of Boston. He held the office for three years, dis- charging its duties with his accustomed earnestness. In 1844, he was the can- didate of the Democratic minority in Massachusetts, for the office of Governor of the State. In the following year he was called by President Polk to assist in his cabinet as Secretary of the Navy, and marked the brief period devoted to his hew duties, by the es- tablishment of the Naval School at Annapolis, and his care of the astro nomical observatory at the Capitol In 1846, he was appointed Minister Pie nipotentiary to Great Britain, holding the office for three years, accomplish ing, among other diplomatic business, an important modification of the British restrictions in their Navigation Laws. I On his return to the United States GEORGE BANCROFT. 399 he established hi.s residence in the city of New York. He now devoted himself earnestly to his great work, "The History of the United States from the L\iscovery of the American Continent." The first volume was written during his resi- dence at Northampton, and was pub- lished in 1834; a second, completed during a residence at Springfield, fol- lowed in 1837, and a third in 1840; so that the author carried with him to England a reputation as an historian. His labors were welcomed by Edward Everett in the "North American Re- view," and by Professor Heeren in Germany. " We know few modem his- toric works," said the latter, " in which the author has reached so high an ele- vation at once as an historical inquirer and an historical writer." This consciousness of his great work, the animating impulse of all historians, from Herodotus to Macauley, has never failed him. The successive volumes of the series have, if possible, increased the author's care and responsibility. The gratitude of the public has warmed him to new labors. His political career and residence abroad as ambassador, so far from interrupting his toils, only added a weight of experience of direct profit to the historian, with whom a practical knowledge of affairs is of the first importance. Resuming the record in 1852, with the publication of the fourth volume, which traces the period from 1748, the author advanced rapidly to the fifth and sixth, the last of which brought the narrative to the immediate commencement of the Revolution, pre- j ceding the actual outbreak in Massa- chusetts. This was published in 1854. In 1858 the work was resumed with the History of the Revolution, of which the second volume, the eighth of the whole work, appeared in 1860. Its progress in events, as the theatre of action has been enlarged, has been at- tended with a proportionate increase of power and interest, a result which might naturally be expected, as the author approaches his own time and sweeps into the vast world of modern European diplomacy, where the sove- reigns of Europe, like the deities in Homer, mingle in the affray, and out of the vast contest is born the new American liberty. In 1855, Mr. Bancroft published a volume of "Literary and Historical Miscellanies," including several of the early compositions to which we have already alluded, with the addition of several occasional addresses, among them an oration commemorative of An- drew Jackson, and an anniversary dis- course before the New York Historical Society, on l,The Necessity, the Reality, and the Promise of the Progress of the Human Race,'' one of the most elabo- rate of his philosophical essays. To this enumeration we may add his lec- tures on "The Culture, the Support, and the Object of Art in a Republic," "The Office, appropriate Culture, and Duty of the Mechanic," an historical oration at the celebration of the Battle of King's Mountain, in 1855, and a brief oration at Cleveland, Ohio, at the inauguration of a statue of Commodore Perry. EDWARD EVERETT. A life of honorable mental activity of no common order is presented to us in the career of Edward Everett. From early youth he is found always in some distinguished sphere of action, not inharmoniously reconciling pursuits seldom united by his countrymen. He brings from his study the fruits of quiet and retired scholarship to orna- ment the utilitarian necessities of the day—a man of taste and elegance in letters, it has been his fortune to be deeply engaged in public affairs—from his powers of mind and qualifications, he might be a professor, a preacher, a poet, an essayist, a consummate orator, a popular writer, a legislator, a cabinet minister, an ambassador, the head of a college, or the head of a State: nay, he has been all these and honorably celebrated in each. He was born in Dorchester, Massa- chusetts, April 11th, 1794. His father, Oliver Everett, known as a clergyman aud occupant at one time of the pulpit of the Old South Church, in Boston, and subsequently as Judge of the Court of Common Pleas for Norfolk, belonged to a family which had lived in the town of Dedham from the first settle- ment of the country. " My forefathers," said on one occasion the subject of our 400 sketch, " were very humble men— farmers and mechanics—and devoted themselves to a most unambitious career. They left nothing to their descendants, of either fame or fortune, but a good name." Edward Everett thus sprang from the heart of the yeomanry of New England, and his boyhood was edu- cated under her most wholesome ^in- fluences. The accomplished scholar and orator is emphatically the child of her public schools, of which he has so often sung the praises and seconded the en- deavors. He began at three years of age with a primer in his hand at the free village school of Dorchester, and while quite a child in that town, ap- pears to have attracted attention by his cleverness and aptness at recitation, for we find that excellent scholar and most estimable man, the Rev. Thaddeus Mason Harris, writing a simple apo- logue expressly to be spoken at a pub- lic recitation by the little orator. He was next introduced to the schools of Boston, where he had, among other preceptors, Ezekiel Webster, the elder brother of the statesman, and took a turn at the memorable old Latin school then under the rule of Master Bigelow. Thence he passed to the famous Exeter Academy under the superintendence c oppo- EVERETT. 40b nent, Marcus Morton. This period of his official life was marked by a con- siderable development of the resources of his native State, especially in the departments of education and agricul- tural surveys and law reform—matters in all of which his influence and ex- ertions were prominent. The public orations and addresses delivered by him during his career as Governor, show his readiness to serve the public outside the range of his peculiar duties. Some of his best educational discources were pronounced at this time. On his release from the office of Governor in 1839, he made prepara- tions for a visit to Europe with his family—he had married in 1832, the daughter of the Hon. Peter C. Brooks, a wealthy merchant of Boston—and sailed the following year. He had passed one winter in Italy, and was meditating a sojourn in the same region during another, when he was called by the new administration at home, to the mission to England. He entered upon these duties in 1841, and bore a dis- tinguished part iu the complicated discussions respecting the north-eastern boundary, the Canadian difficulties, and other vexed questions threatening to disturb the peace of the two countries. There were various changes in the foreign department at home, but Mr. Everett continued to represent the country at London till 1845. On his return to America at this date, he was chosen President of Harvard College, filling the interval of three years in the government of that institution, between Josiah Quincy and Jared Sparks, who w;1- his successor in 1S49. ±04 EDWARD EVERETT. Mr. Everett now availed himself of the opportunity of an interval of leisure to revise and edit a collection of his orations and speeches. A single volume of the kind had been published in 1836; it was now, with the subsequent productions of the author, submitted to careful criticism. The collection in- cludes eighty-one separate orations, speeches, addresses, varying from the brief dinner remarks or response to a sentiment, to the elaborate discussion of a political or scientific theme on an anniversary or State occasion. There are the opening Phi Beta Kappa ad- dress on Literature; numerous papers on American history, " The Settlement of Massachusetts," " The Seven Years' War the School of the Revolution," " Anecdotes of Early Local History," " The First Battles of the Revolutionary War," and the like, showing that if the orator had not chosen to be a statesman he might have been the historian of his country; a separate series of semi-scien- tific papers addressed to working men and agriculturists; earnest and affec- tionate advocacy of educational and intellectual advantages; eloquent eulo- gies on Lafayette, Bowditch, Lowell, John Quincy Adams. There is hardly a topic arising out of these various themes which he has not touched upon; he has touched on none which he has not adorned. Mr. Everett's next official duty was as Secretary of State under President Fillmore, in 1852, on the death of his friend Daniel Webster—a short period of service distinguished by several foreign negotiations of importance, especially the consideration of the tri- partite convention with England and France, guaranteeing to Spain the per- manent possession of Cuba. He pre- pared the state paper on this occasion, declining the proposition. In the ses- sion succeeding his appointment to the Secretaryship, having in the mean time, been elected by the Legislature of Massachusetts, he took his seat in the Senate of the United States. On the next meeting of that body in De- cember, he found his health seriously affected, but continued through the la- bors of an exhausting session, follow- ing the debates on the Nebraska Kansas bill, till he was compelled in May to resign his seat by the command of his physician. It was not, however, in the nature of Mr. Everett to be idle, though look- ing to his fortune, education, and tastes, the charms of his ample library and the sources of his distinguished friendships; above all, to his successful achievements in various departments of noble ex- ertion, there are few men, we should say, to whom the luxury of learned re- pose would be more attractive, as there are few who could more honorably claim its enjoyment. This, however, is not the plea or the indulgence of Mr. Everett, whose private life, within the last few years, has introduced him to a new field of labors altogether unique, in the annals of literature and elo- quence. The part borne by him in the purchase of Mount Vernon, the home of Washington, to be held as a perpe- tual gift to the people of the United States, and most endearing monument of the Father of his Country, is fami- liarly known to the public in its man- EDWARD EVERETT. 405 ner and results, as its extraordinary deta'ls will remain a subject of admira- tion for posterity. Within a period of three years, from the twenty-second of February, 1856, the date of the first delivery of Mr. Everett's Oration on Washington, he repeated this com- position to large audiences in various portions of the countiy, no less than one hundred and nineteen times, pro- ducing for the fund the important sum of nearly fifty-seven thousand dollars. The circumstances which led to this undertaking were somewhat accidental, the oration delivered by Mr. Everett not having been prepared originally for this object. In the autumn of 1855, he was invited by the Boston Mercantile Library Association to deliver a lecture in their approaching course. Having accepted the invitation, and thinking the several visits of Washington to Boston a striking and appropriate sub- ject, he proposed the theme to himself for an address before the society on the twenty-second of February, with the understanding that the proceeds of the delivery wrere to be applied to some com- memorative purpose; and they were actually thus applied to the purchase of a copy for the Institution, of Stuart's full length portrait of Washington at Newport. In the meantime a second application for an address reached Mr. Everett from a society in Richmond, Virginia. He replied that he would repeat the Washington address before them for the benefit of the "Ladies' Mount Vernon Association," the con- stitution and plan of which had just attracted his attention in the " National Intelligencer." This was a society ii.—51 which had grown out of a suggestion for the purchase of Mount Vernon by private subscription made by Miss Ann Pamela Cunningham, of South Caro- lina, in 1853, a lady w7ho enforced her views in an address to her countrymen wddely circulated in the newspapers, signed " A Southern Matron." Mr. Everett's offer was, of course accepted, and in this way the repetition of his discourse began. It has constantly been a source of de- light to the public to hear Mr. Everett. His reputation as an orator, his grace- ful action, the charm of his glowing eloquence, the interest of his subject matter, the skill with which he ever blends the useful and agreeable have always found attention, and when it was found that he might be secured at call—for the sake of the patriotic object on which he was bent—applica- tions came to him from all parts of the country. At first he did not entertain the idea of any very extensive delivery of the oration and did not stipulate for the precise appropriation of the funds collected, which he afterwards made a requisite. In every case, however, they were bestowed upon some public ob- ject. Finding the matter grow upon his hands, he gave up his time and at- tention to the work, and, with the zeal and labor of a neophyte making his private fortune in a prosperous run of luck, organized journeys at different ! times, from Maine to Georgia, crossing I and recrossing the highways of the country by sea and land, on more than one occasion- being called upon to re- peat the lecture on the same spot. It has thus been four times delivered at 406 EDWARD EVERETT. New York and Philadelphia to unfail- ing audiences.1 The Address itself is marked by many of the most attractive qualities of Mr. Everett's style. It abounds with the orator's favorite rhetorical amplifications of fact and reasoning, is eminently picturesque, and, indeed, owes much of its charm to a series of brilliant historical tableaux, in the pre- sentation of which no one has ever ex- celled the orator. The comparison of Washington, to several of the great generals of antiquity and of modern times, including a withering sketch of Marlborough, bringing off Washington the moral victor by the symmetry of his character, constitutes, perhaps, the happiest portion of the address. In addition to this oratorical labor, Mr. Everett imposed upon himself the onerous obligation of writing fifty-two consecutive essays for a weekly mis- cellaneous newspaper, the " New York Ledger," for the express purpose of adding the considerable sum of ten thousand dollars to the fund. The money was paid in advance by the pub- lisher, and contributed to that object, Mr. Everett never failing to produce his stated quota of manuscript for his "Mount Vernon Papers," as he entitled them, till the whole were finished. They consist of sketches of different portions of Washington's life, of historical and other essays, and largely of reminis- cences of European travel, and inter- 1 An enumeration of various interesting facts connected with the delivery of this Washington. Discourse, by Mr. Everett, will be found in his remarks on the subject be- fore the Massachusetts' Historical Society, published in the Proceedings of that body for June, 1858. course with eminent foreign authors and statesmen. All are written with the accomplished orator's accustomed ease and interesting statement of facts; Mr. Everett never speaking or writing with- out a useful object, and enforcing it upon the attention by some valuable circumstance or anecdote. While these various labors, too, have been in progress, Mr. Everett has de- livered other discourses for public ob- jects, including an " Address on Charity and Charitable Institutions," already alluded to, the delivery of which on sixteen occasions, has produced thirteen thousand five hundred dollars for bene- volent purposes; while an oration on the " Early days of Franklin" has reaped a similar harvest of bounty. In about three years the sum total real- ized for charitable and patriotic objects, from the addresses delivered by Mr. Everett, reached the enormous sum of ninety thousand dollars. Was ever be- fore such a sum of money earned with so much of benefit and pleasure to the public, and delivered to them again in the creation of such lasting and wel- come means of instruction and enjoy- ment ? Trees will rise and grass will grow as generations to come will visit the banks of the Potomac, grateful to Mr. Everett for their patriotic satisfac- tion, and his honeyed eloquence will still whisper in the breezes which blow over the hallowed spot. How many volumes, too, sources of perennial de- light, has he summoned by his words to the shelves of public libraries in our large cities; how much suffering has been relieved by his charitable appeals! Few scholars, few statesmen, have the EDWARD EVERETT. 407 privilege of pointing to such beneficent employment of their leisure. The issue of a third volume of his collected orations and speeches (in 1859) has been among the employments of Mr. Everett's later years. Its forty- three somewhat miscellaneous papers show no abatement but rather an in- crease of the powers of their prede- cessors. There is the same devotion to American history, to education, the academy, and the public school, to the interests of the mechanic and of the farmer, the same careful and exalted eulogy of departed greatness—exhibit- ing the orator ever ready to respond to any worthy appeal which comes to him feathered with the claims of patriotism, literature, and benevolence. The year 1860 opened a new period of Mr. Everett's life, in the political crisis terminating in the ascendancy of the Republican party. In the Presi- dential election of that year he was put forward as a candidate for Vice- President on the Ticket with Mr. Bell, of Tennessee, as the representative of a certain moderate national conservatism. Success in the struggle with three well- marked political organizations, repre- sented by Lincoln, Breckinridge, and Douglas, was not to be anticipated ; nor did Mr. Everett look for any different result. Having in the course of his political career exerted his endeavors to preserve peice to his country—when war was forced upon it, he accepted the issue with equanimity, and devoted his best power? to support the nation in its day of trial. On more than one occasion, to public assemblies and to gathering of troops for the field, has he spoken to assure the hopes of the citizen and ani- mate the courage of the soldier. His address in particular, delivered at the Academy of Music, New York, on the 4th of July, 1861, presents a masterly picture of the origin and true nature of the war. This was followed at an im- portant crisis of the war by his delivery, at the request of the Governors of nine- teen loyal States, of an oration on the occasion of the consecration of the na- tional cemetery on the battle-field of Gettysburgh—an oration which recalls the similar commemoration of the dead by Pericles at Athens in the Pelopon- ncsian war. As the war wore on, Mr. Everett lost no suitable opportunity to confirm the hearts of his countrymen in the great struggle for national existence in which they were engaged. His last appearance in public was to serve the cause of charity and reconciliation in a brief speech at Faneuil Hall, Boston, at a meeting called to procure assistance for the needy citizens of Savannah, then recently captured by the army of Gen- eral Sherman. A few days after this event, on the morning of Sunday, Jan- uary 15, 1865, Mr. Everett was stricken by apoplexy, which caused his imme- diate death. The event was announced to the nation in an official order from Washington by the Secretary of State, Mr. Seward, at the request of President Lincoln, commemorating the "learning and eloquence and unsurpassed and dis- interested labors of patriotism" of the deceased. GEORGE BRINTON MoCLELLAN. Major-General McClellan, of the United States Army, was born in Phila- delphia, Pa., December 3, 1820. His father, as the name indicates, of Scottish descent, of a family originally settled in New England, was an emi- nent physician and surgeon of that city, distinguished, it is said, alike by the boldness and skill of his ope- rations. Having pursued his studies at the University of Pennsylvania, the son, at the age of sixteen, en- tered the West Point Military Aca- demy, whence he graduated with high honor, second of his class, in 1846, and was appointed second-lieutenant of en- gineers. It was the period of the war with Mexico, whither he was imme- diately ordered on duty, as lieutenant of a newly-organized company of sap- pers, miners, and pontoon constructors, which he had assisted in drilling at West Point. Joining the column of General Taylor on the Rio Grande, the company was presently sent, by way of Tampico, to Vera Cruz, where it bore a prominent part in the siege of that city, the active duties of the com- mand, in consequence of the illness of the captain, falling upon Lieutenant Gustavus W. Smith and his associate, McClellan. The company was equally efficient in the advance toward the capital, as the reports of Colonel Totten General Twiggs, and other officers bear ample testimony. For his gallant and meritorious conduct at the battles of Contreras and Cherubusco, McClellan was brevetted first-lieutenant, and cap- tain for like services at Molino del Rey. He declined the latter at the time; but his claim to promotion was renewed by his distinguished services at Chapul- tepee, which gained for him a special. tribute of honor in a despatch of Gene- ral Scott, in which he was commended with his fellow-engineer officer and future competitor on a very different field, Lieutenant Beauregard. He now received the rank of captain, presently took command of his company, and, the war being ended, returned to West Point, where he was engaged as cap- tain of field labors and instructor of the bayonet exercise. In connection with these duties, he translated from the French a "Manual of Bayonet Exer- cise," which was adopted for use in the army. In the summer and autumn of 1851, he was employed in superintend ing the construction of Fort Delaware, and in the spring of the following year accompanied Captain Marcy, whose daughter he subsequently married, in an exploring expedition to the Red River. He was thence ordered as 408 GEORGE BRIXTON McCLELLAN. 400 senior engineer on the staff of General Persifer F. Smith, to a survey of the rivers and harbors of Texas. He was next engaged, in 1853, under command of Governor .Stevens 0f Washington Territory, in the survey of the North Pacific Railway route, the results of which were pronounced by the Secre- tary of War, Jefferson Davis, " highly creditable to his capacity and re- sources." His report was published in a quarto volume by the Government, the first in the series of the Pacific Railroad Surveys. After further em- ployment as an engineer in preliminary investigations relating to the railway to the Pacific and the performance of a secret Government mission to the West Indies, having now attained the full rank of captain in the first cavalry, he was, in 1855, commissioned by the Secretary of War, Jefferson Davis, in company with Colonel Delafield and Major Mordecai, "to visit Europe for the purpose of obtaining information in regard to the military service in general, and especially the practical working of the changes which have been intro- duced of late years into the military systems of the principal nations of Europe."1 The report of Captain McClellan's survey, including a series ! of observations in the Crimea, was published by the United States Gov- ernment on his return, in an elaborate quarto volume on the " Organization of European Armies and the Conduct of the War." The edition of this work issued by Congress being soon ex- hausted, it was republished by the 1 Order of Jefferson Davis, Secretary of War, Washing- ton, April 2, 1865. author in Philadelphia, in 1861, with the title " The Armies of Europe, com- prising Descriptions in detail of the Military Systems of England, France, Russia, Prussia, Austria, and Sardinia" Having resigned his commission in the army, in 1857, Captain McClellan was for three years employed as Vice- President and Engineer of the Illinois and Central Railroad, when he became General Superintendent, and shortly after President of the Ohio and Missis- sippi Railroad. The outbreak of the Rebellion found him in the discharge of the duties of this office, from which he was called by the Governor of Ohio, to organize the volunteer forces of that State, with the rank of major-general. He was presently, May 14th, 1861, appointed a major-general of the Regu- lar Army, and placed in command of the Department of the Ohio, comprising all of the States of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, and that part of Virginia north of the Great Kenawha River, and west of the Green Brier River and the Maryland line, with part of Pennsylvania Rapidly organizing his forces at his head-quar- ters at Cincinnati, General McClellan crossed the Ohio in June, and after a series of preliminary movements, came up with the main army of the enemy in Western Virginia, under Colonel Pegram, at Rich Mountain, a spur of the Alleghanies, in Randolph County. General Rosecrans was sent by a cir- cuitous route to flank the enemy in their position, while General McClellan was ready to attack them in front. The former movement was entirely suc- cessful. One portion of the rebel army surrendered at once; the remainder 110 GEORGE BRIXTON .AkCLKELAN. was utterly routed on its retreat. This engagement, brilliantly closing a short campaign, took place on the 11th of July. Ten days after occurred the dis- aster to the Union forces at Bull Run, when General McClellan, on the instant, was called to Washington to the com- mand of the Army of the Potomac. He was now for three months em- ployed in organizing and rendering effective the forces suddenly called into the field, when, on the 1st of Novem- ber, on the retirement of General Scott, from advanced age and infirmities, he became his successor as General-in- Chief. In this capacity he passed the following winter completing the de- fences of Washington, accumulating military supplies, especially of artillery, and preparing his force, now swelled to the largest army ever gathered on the continent, for a decisive movement in the spring. The long expected advance of the Army of the Potomac against the enemy before Washington, was made at the beginning of March, 1862, when the Confederates retreated from the line of Bull Run and Manassas, in the direction of Richmond. It had been General McClellan's design, by a sudden transfer of his forces to the Yorktown peninsula, to anticipate this movement for the defence of the Con- federate capital, for the capture of which there had been a steady outcry from the beginning of the war. He now, therefore, embarked the main portion of his army at Alexandria, landed in the vicinity of Fortress Mon- roe, and proceeded to the siege of Yorktown, where the enemy were found to be in force, and well fortified. The gathering of his army and the en- gineering operations before this place occupied a month, when, on the eve of opening his batteries, the enemy, duly impressed by the means at his command, on the night of May 3d, evacuated the elaborate series of works which they had constructed. The town was taken possession of, and the army, after driving the enemy from their fortified lines at Williamsburgh, and meeting them in the neighborhood of West Point, on the York River, advanced from the latter position, whence its supplies were drawn, to the Chicahominy River, in the immediate vicinity of Richmond. There, on the last day of the month, was fought the battle of Seven Pines. The Union forces were overpowered by superior numbers, but repulsed the enemy in the renewal of the engagement the next day, at Fair Oaks. The Union army having suffered severe loss from its un- wholesome position, the severity of the climate, and the hardships of the cam- paign, and its communications being, moreover, in danger, General McClellan resolved upon the withdrawal of his forces to a new base of operations on the James River. On the 24th of June, the evacuation of White House was commenced, and from that day to the 1st of July, were fought a series of des- perate battles on both banks of the Chickahominy, and on the line of re- treat through the White Oak Swamp, ending with a decided victory for the Union forces at the battle of Malvern Hill, near the James River. General McClellan now called for re inforcements to continue the campaign GEORGi: BRIXTON McCLELLAN. 411 before Richmond, but the safety of the capital, in the judgment of the President and General Halleck, the new General- in-Chief, required the presence of the army in Virginia to swell the forces of General Pope, who was now holding the line of the Rappahannock. The Army of the Potomac was accordingly with- drawn from the Peninsula to Acquia Creek, and a considerable portion of it was engaged in the series of battles covering the retreat of General Pope to the fortifications of Washington, of which General McClellan was placed in command. On the immediate transfer of General Pope to another department, General McClellan was restored to the command of his old army, with which he presently, in September, advanced to meet the Confederate General, Lee, who had now crossed the Potomac in his determined invasion of Maryland. Driving the enemy from Frederick, General McClellan came up with th en- forces at the South Mountain, on the fourteenth, defeated them in a double attack, and pushing on, brought them to a decisive action, on the sixteenth and seventeenth, on the banks of Antietam Creek. The enemy were defeated with heavy loss, and hastily retreating to the Potomac, crossed the river into Virginia. Thus ended Lee's first invasion of Maryland. Gene- ral McClellan now remained for a few weeks in Maryland, when, in Oc- tober, he again took the field in pur- suit of the enemy. Advancing from Harper's Ferry along the eastern side of the Blue Ridge, he had reached the vicinity of Warrenton with the bulk of his army, when, on the 7th of No- vember, he was relieved of the com- mand of the Army of the Potomac. Taking leave of his troops in a farewell address, in which he expressed a warm affection for "the army which had grown up under his care, and in which he had never found doubt or coldness," he proceeded to the North, and has since—up to the present time, August, 1863—mainly resided, without being called to active service, at his new home in the city of New York. HENRY WAGER HALLECK. Major-General Halleck, of the United States Army, General-in-chief of the national forces in the War for the Union, was born in Westernville, a town on the Mohawk River, near Utica, i in Oneida County, New York, in the year 1816. On the paternal side, he is descended from Peter Halleck, of Long Island; and on the maternal, from Henry Wager, an intimate friend of Baron Steuben, and one of the early settlers of central New York. After the usual academy instruction, and pur- suing his studies for a while in Union College, Schenectady, at the age of nine- teen, he entered the Military Academy at West Point, where he occupied a distinguished position, graduating in 1839, third in a class of thirty-one, and receiving the appointment of second- lieutenant in the engineer corps. He was, for the ensuing year, assistant pro- fessor of engineering at the Academy. In 1840-4, he was a member of the Board of Engineers at Washington, and for the two succeeding years was en- gaged as assistant engineer on the forti- fications in New York harbor. His pen was employed meanwhile in the preparation of a treatise on " Bitumen," publishel in 1841, particularly with reference to its employment in the con- struction of casemates and the masonry of forts; and in an elaborate report on the means of National Defence, which he submitted to the War Department in 1843, and which was called for and published by the Senate. In 1844, Lieutenant Halleck visited Europe with the object of adding to his knowledge of his profession by study of the military establishments of the old world, and, with their usual cour- tesy, was aided in his observations by eminent French engineers. In Janu- ary, 1845, he was promoted to a first- lieutenancy in the. engineer corps, and in the winter of 1845-6 was engaged ii the delivery of a series of lectures upon the Science of War, before the Lowell Institute of Boston, the substance of which was embodied in a comprehen- sive work, which he published the fol- lowing season, on "The Elements of Military Art and Science; or, a Course of Instruction in Strategy, Fortifica- tions, Tactics of Battles, etc.; embrac- ing the Duties of Staff, Infantry, Ca- valry, Artillery, and Engineers. Adapt- ed to the use of Volunteers and Mili- tia." In an introductory chapter, the author, vindicating the claims and ne- cessities of patriotism and the laws for the preservation of States, discusses the question of the " Justifiableness of I AVar," in reference to certain positions // f7 ss 7?, HENRY WAGER HALLECK. 413 taken by the Rev. Dr. Wayland, in his treatise on "Moral Philosophy," on the side of non-resistance. "No preten- sion," says the author in his preface to this useful and interesting volume, " is made to originality in any part of the work; the sole object having been to embody, in a small compass, well esta- blished military principles, and to illus- trate these by reference to the events of past history, and the opinions and practice of the best generals." On the opening of the Mexican War, Lieutenant Halleck was ordered to Ca- lifornia, where he arrived, by the way of Cape Horn, at Monterey, in January, 1 s47, when he was at once employed in erecting: defences for that harbor and other points of the coast. His admin- istrative abilities were not neglected by General Kearney, then in command of the United States forces in the re- gion, and he was by him, in the ensu- ing August, appointed Secretary of State in the mixed civil and military government which then prevailed. He continued to hold this position under the administrations of Generals Mason and Riley to the close of the year 1849. While discharging this duty, and that of engineer, he was also for a time aid- de-camp to Commodore Shubrick in many of the naval and military opera- tions of that season, at Mazatlan and elsewhere. He took part in the actions of Palos Prietos and Urias, Nov. 19th and 20th, 1847, for his gallantry in which, and other services in California, he was brevetted captain; and was also, in the following spring, engaged in the actions of San Antonio and Todos San- tos. n.—52 The civil duties which he had per- formed in connection with the military conquest of California, naturally caused Captain Halleck to be invited, when the war was ended, to a prominent part in the organization of the new State. He became a member, in 1849, of the convention called to form a State Constitution, the draft of which was entrusted to his hands, and the instru- ment mainly prepared by him. From 1850 to 1854 he was Light-House In- spector and Engineer and member of the Board of Engineers for Fortifica tions on the Pacific. In August of the latter year, " finding the routine of mili- tary duty in time of peace inefficient to employ his active mind, promotion slow, and pay entirely inadequte to his support," he resigned his commission to engage'in the pursuits of civil life in California, for which his education and habits of mind peculiarly qualified him. He was, in IS55, President of the Pa- cific and Atlantic Railroad from San Francisco to San Jose, and soon became known as a lawyer, in which profession he was actively employed, his acquaint- ance with the peculiarities of Spanish and Mexican law causing him to be much consulted. In 1859, he published a " Collection of Mining Laws of Spain .and Mexico,", and was at the same time engaged in the preparation of an elabo- rate work on the law of nations, to sup- ply a want suggested by his California experience. He had often, while serv- ing: on the staff of Commodore Shu- brick, and as Secretary of State under the military commanders of the terri- tory, he says, been required to give opi- nions on questions of international law 414 HENRY WAGER HALLECK. growing out of the operations of the war. " As it was sometimes," he con- tinues, " difficult or impossible to pro- cure books of reference, except in the libraries of ships of war which occa- sionally touched at the ports of the Northern Pacific, he commenced a series of notes and extracts, which were ar- ranged under different heads, conve- nient for use." In this way he was led to complete a scientific treatise, which he published in 1861, entitled " International Law; or, Rules Regu- lating the Intercourse of States in Peace and War." Opening with a review of the previous literature on the subject, it proceeds to a discussion of the. nature and sources of the law of nations, the sovereignty of States, their inherent and mutual rights, their treaty and other obligations, and the special questions on land and sea arising out of a state of war. AVhile finishing this work, affairs arose destined to give its doctrines new importance. The war of the Rebellion was inaugurated by the attack on Sum-* ter, and theories of war and peace be- came of immediate practical moment. The Government of the United States had need of all her proved defenders, and hastened to recall officers of the old army who had been led into other occupations to the service of the countiy. McClellan, Burnside, and others were thus summoned on the At- lantic coast, and Captain Halleck, now —August, 1861—commissioned Major- General of the Regular Army, was re- called from the Pacific. Arriving at AYashinsfton in the autumn, he was im- mcdiatelv assigned to the command of I the Department of the Missouri, upon which he entered in November. His head-quarters were established at St. Louis, from which, as a base of opera- tions, he directed the military move- ments in the State. Everything was in more or less confusion in the unset- tled relations of the country. Armies were to be put into the field and disaf- fection overcome. Before the close of the year, the rebel army of Price, threat- ening the interior of the State, had been defeated and driven with vast loss to the southern frontier. By a policy of blended firmness and consideration the spirit of insurrection was in a great measure repressed and the preservation of the State to the Union assured. The beginning of the next year wit- nessed the active operations of the army in the AVestern Department, resulting in the victories of Forts Henry and Donelson, followed by the conquest of Nashville, the important movements on the Mississippi, and the operations in the South-west, carrying the defence of Missouri to Arkansas, in the battle of Pea Ridge. The doubtful battle of Shiloh succeeded in April, immediately after which General Halleck, having pre viously been fully occupied in his work of military organization at St. Louis, in his enlarged Department of the Missis- sippi, joined the army at Pittsburgh Landing. He now in person directed the engineering and other movements which resulted in driving the enemy from Corinth, and preparing the way for the advance of the Union forces into Mississippi. Shortly after this re suit had been accomplished, he was, I in July, called to Washington to oc- HENRY WAGER nALLECK. 415 cupy the position previously held in turn by Scott and McClellan, of Gene- ral-in-Chief. It was a period of great difficulty and embarrassment, and the new com- mander was called upon to decide vari- ous important questions. The most pressing of these was the disposition of the Army of the Potomac, which had just been compelled to abandon its menaced attack upon Richmond for a position of safety on the James River. Contrary to the remonstrance of Gene- ral McClellan, General Halleck decided that it should be recalled to the aid of General Pope in the defence of Wash- ington. Soon all its remaining strength was required to repel the army of Lee in his invasion of Maryland. To nar- rate the subsequent history of General Ilalleck's administration through vari- ous vicissitudes of fortune to the bril- liant successful campaign of the sum- mer of 1863, just closed as we write, would be to repeat the record of the war. In its further prosecution and final adjustment there will doubtless remain ample opportunity for the con- tinued display of the legal abilities and experience, no less than the military qualities, which have raised General Halleck to his high position. AMBROSE EVERETT BURNSIDE. This officer, who has attained the hio-hest rank in the volunteer service of the United States, and whose high personal character has seconded his efforts in the field in raising him to this distinction, and in securing him several most important commands, was born at Liberty, in Union County, In- diana, May 23, 1824. His family is from Scotland, both his grandparents having emigrated from that country, about the end of the last century, to South Carolina, where his father wa§ born, married, and engaged in the prac- tice of the law. The latter removed, in 1821, to Indiana, where he became a circuit judge. At the age of eighteen, his son Ambrose entered the Military Academy at West Point, graduating in 1S47, fifteenth in a class of forty-seven, when he was appointed second-lieuten- ant in the third artillery. The war with Mexico being then in progress, he was ordered to the seat of war with General Patterson's column, but arrived too late to participate in the brilliant action of the campaign. He rendered efficient service, however, in protecting the line of communications. Returning from Mexico, he was sta- tioned for some time at Fort Adams, in Newport, Rhode Island, and in 1849 was ordered to New Mexico as first- tit lieutenant in Captain Bragg's celebrat- ed battery. The command being re- organized as cavalry, Lieutenant Burn- side was frequently employed in con- flicts with the Indians—a service which has always proved 'an effective school in the training of the American officer. While in New Mexico he was engaged (1850-51) as quartermaster in the Mex- ican Boundary Commission. Return- ing to the Atlantic seaboard as bearer of despatches, he was promoted to a first-lieutenancy at the close of the year Resigning this rank in 1853, he made his residence in Rhode Island, having married a lady of that State, and set up an establishment at Bristol for the manufacture of a breech-loading rifle, which he had invented, and for the in- troduction of which into the service he had, it is said, assurances from the Se- cretary of War, John B. Floyd. Dis- appointed in not receiving the contract from the Government which he had expected, he was compelled to relin- quish his manufacturing enterprise with heavy loss. Removing to the West, he presently found employment as cashier in the land office of the Illinois Central Railroad, and subsequently as treasurer of the company, the duties of which he discharged at New York. General McClellan was at this time at the head /{/I'l'lJf. V AMBROSE EVERETT BURNSIDE. 417 of tire company, and a warm friend- ship existed between the two officers. The war of the Rebellion now break- ing out, Lieutenant Burnside was invited by Governor Sprague to the command of a regiment of Rhode Island volun- teers. Promptly accepting the commis- sion, four days after his arrival at Provi- dence he was at the head of his men on his way to answer the first call of the President for the defence of the national capital. Energetically disciplining his regiment, he possessed the confidence of the commander-in-chief, and was as- signed an important part in the battle of Bull Run, in which he served in command of the second brigade of Ge- neral Hunter's division. He brought his troops gallantly into action and sustained the conflict of the day with great heroism, as the severe loss of the Second Rhode Island Regiment in his command particularly testified. His services on this occasion were greatly commended by General McDowell, and gained him the appointment of briga- dier-general of volunteers. He was, durins: the remainder of the summer of 1861, employed with General McClel- lan in organizing the newly-enlisted Army of the Potomac, and in October was appointed to a separate command at the head of the expedition pro- jected for the occupation of an impor- tant portion of North Carolina. The gathering of his forces, chiefly New England regiments, with the necessary preparation and equipment, occupied him at New York for the remainder of the year; and it was not till the mid- dle of January, 1862, that "the Burn- side Expedition," composed of about sixteen thousand troops, with a large naval force, under flair-officer Golds- borough, set sail from Fortress Monroe. The object of the expedition was the capture of the enemy's forces on Roa- noke Island, and the permanent control of the waters of Albemarle and Pam- lico Sounds. Unexpected difficulties were encountered in the passage of the entrance at Hatteras Inlet, which proved the energy and perseverance of General Burnside, who finally, on the 8th of February, in concert with Com- modore Goldsborough, brought his forces into action, in the battle of Roa- noke Island, when the enemy was thorougly routed. General Burnside was much commended for this affair. The Legislature of Rhode Island voted him a sword, and he was the next month promoted niaj<>r-gencral of volunteeis. Ilis success at Roanoke determined him in an attack upon Xewbern, the defences of which were gallantly car- ried on the 14th of March—a victory which was the following month suc- ceeded by the reduction of Fort Macon. Having thus triumphed in three im- portant actions in his Department of North Carolina, General Burnside was next summoned to the aid of General McClellan, at the time he was about leaving the peninsula of ATrginia after his unsuccessful siege of Richmond. In the new campaign of General Pope he was at first stationed on the Rappahan- nock, at Fredericksburg, whence he re- treated, with the rest of the army of Xiv ginia, to AVashington. In the battles which ensued, consequent upon Lee's in- vasion of Maryland, he bore a prominent part. lie had at the outset the command 418 AMBROSE EVERETT BURNSIDE. of the right wing of the army, composed of the first and ninth army corps, and directed the operations, resulting, on the 14th of September, 1862, in the occupation of Turner's Gap, South Mountain. In tc3 action which ensued on the seventeenth, at Antietam Creek, General Burnside was in command of the left wing, which was engaged in the attack on the lower bridge, where some of the severest fighting of the day took place. After repeated at- tempts and much slaughter, the bridge was carried and an advance position gained by General Burnside's com- mand. General Lee having been de- feated, recrossed the Potomac, and after an interval of more than a month, was followed by the Army of the Potomac. General Burnside, in the new move- ment of General McClellan in Virari- nia, had command of the ninth army corps, and had reached, with the main army, the vicinity of Warrenton, when he was, on the 8th of November, unex- pectedly ordered to take the command of the Army of the Potomac in place of General McClellan, who was removed. Reluctantly accepting the new and re- sponsible position, General Burnside rapidly moved the army to the Rap- pahannock opposite Fredericksburg, which he considered the best mode of approaching Richmond, with the ad- vantage of a secure communication by water at Aquia Creek. Here he re- mained, opposite the army of General Lee, preparing for an assault upon the enemy, which was finally made on the 12th of December, when the divisions of Sumner, Hooker, and Franklin hav- ing crossed the river, possession was gained of the town, and a desperate attack made upon the rebel works in the rear. In this the Union forces, not- withstanding their gallant advance, were repulsed with heavy losses, and compelled to retreat to their old posi- tion. A second attempt was about to be made by General Burnside to meet the enemy on the 20th of January, 1863, which was-prevented by a heavy rain storm. There was some dissatis- faction also on the part of the officers of his command, and a few days after, at his own request, General Burnside was relieved of the command of the Army of the Potomac, and succeeded by General Hooker. General Burnside was shortly after appointed to a new field of operations in the West, in the command of the important Department of the Ohio. Here, at the entrance on a most responsible sphere of military duty, our brief narrative must for the present close. JOSEPH General Hooker, of the United States Army, was born in Hadley, Mass., in 1819. He entered the Military Academy at West Point, at the age of fourteen, and graduated in due course in is37, securing the appointment of second-lieutenant in the first artillery. He was promoted to a first-lieutenancy the following year, and held the rank of adjutant at the Military Academy, and in various duties from 1841 to 1816. The Mexican War, which fol- lowed, gave him ample opportunity to prove his valor on many well-fought fields, in the lines of General Taylor and G ener.il Scott. For his gallant conduct in the several conflicts at Monterey, on the 21st, 22d, and 23d of September, 1840, he was brevetted captain, and in the ensuing March was appointed as- sistant adjutant-general. Engaged in the advance upon the capital, he was again, in 1847, brevetted major, for gal- lant and meritorious conduct in the action, at the National Bridge, and, be- fore the close of the campaign, lieute- nant-colonel, for his services in the bat- tle of Chapul tepee. His record, thus, in the Mexican AVar was one of dis- tinguished bravery followed by rapid promotion. In 1848, he rose to the full rank of captain in his regiment, and relinquish- HOOKER. ing his rank in the line, was appointed assistant adjutant-general with the rank of captain, a position which he held till 1853, when, while on duty in Cali- fornia, he retired from the service, pur chased a tract of land on the Bay of San Francisco, and was there occupied as a farmer, till the outbreak of the Re- bellion in 1861 again summoned him to the field. Hastening to the Atlantic sea- board, he was appointed from Cali- fornia on the first list of brigadier-gene- rals of volunteers, dated May 17th, 1861, and was assigned a brigade in the Army of the Potomac, composed of the 1st and 11th Massachusetts, the 2d New Hampshire, and 26th Pennsyl vania regiments, which acquired con- siderable distinction under his com- mand. He afterwards was at the head of a division of General Hentzelman's corps. AVhile General McClellan was perfecting the organization of his great army before AVashington, in the win- ter of 1861-2, General Hooker, up to the time of the movement to the Pen- insula, was on duty in the southern part of Maryland, on the left bank of the Potomac. AVhen the siege of Yorktown was commenced, General Hooker joined the army on the Peninsula, with ; his command took part in that affair, 419 420 JOSEPH HOOKER. and on the evacuation of that impor- tant position, in the pursuit of the enemy which ensued, bore the brunt of the hard-fought action in the attack on the entrenched line of the enemy's works, known as the battle of Wil- liamsburg. Hooker, following Stone- man's cavalry, sent to clear the way, was engaged on the left, where the contest was most severe, and gallantly, with the assistance of General Kearney at the close of the day, fought a force of the enemy three or four times larger than his own. " I wish," wrote Gene- ral McClellan, after the action, to the Secretary of AVar, "to bear testimony to the splendid conduct of Hooker's and Kearney's divisions, under command of General Heintzelman, in the battle of Williamsburg. Their bearing was worthy of veterans. Hooker's division for hours gallantly withstood the at- tack of greatly superior numbers, with very heavy loss." In consequence of the condition of the roads during this engagement, General Hooker's troops were inadequately supplied with amu- nition, but they stood their ground with the bayonet and with such pow- der as they could collect from the car- tridge-boxes of the fallen. " I think," said General Hooker, on reviewing the affair before the Congressional Com- mittee on the War, a year after, " this was the hardest fight that has been made this war." General Hooker was again in action with a portion of his division on the second day of the battle begun at Fair Oaks, on the 31st of May, 1862, and with the Dther efficient corps and divi- sion commanders bore a distinguished part in the Seven Days Battles which preceded the withdrawal of the army to the James River, and particularly in the battle of Malvern Hills, which turned a virtual defeat into a glorious victc ry. The Army of the Potomac was next transported to the Rappahannock, to take part in the campaign of General Pope. In the arduous series of battles which ensued covering the retreat to the vicinity of Washington, culminat- ing in the second battle of Manassas, General Hooker, by the side of the faithful Kearney, who here sealed his devotion to his country with his life, proved his valor, corroborating the title to admiration which his command had gained, as " fighting Joe Hooker's division." In his report of the cam- paign, says General Pope, " Generals Kearney and Hooker have that place in the public estimation which they have earned by many gallant and he- roic actions, and which renders it un- necessary for me to do aught except pay this tribute to the memory of one and to the rising fame of the other." General McClellan's brief and suc- cessful campaign in Maryland followed, meeting the army of invasion of Lee at the passes of the South Mountain, and in the bloody engagement on the banks of the Antietam. In these actions General Hooker, who had now, with the rank of major-general of volun- teers, succeeded General McDowell in the command of the first army corps, bore a distinguished part. At the bat- tle of Antietam he commanded the right wing and led the advance in the attack upon the enemy's lines. On the JOSEPH HOOKER 421 morning of the 17th of September, the day of the battle when he again com- menced the action, after gaining an im- portant advantage in an attack upon an advantageous position, as he was reconnoitering the ground for a further advance, he was wounded in the foot by a bullet and compelled to leave the field. " At that time," as he afterwards remarked, " my troops were in the finest spirits ; they had whipped Jack- son, and compelled the enemy to fly, throwing away their arms, their ban- ners, and saving themselves as they best could. Some of the commanding officers of the regiments were riding up and down in front of their men with the colors captured from the enemy in their hands; the troops almost rent the skies with their cheers; there was the greatest good feeling that I have ever witnessed on the field of battle." The veteran General Mansfield fell in this battle, and General Hooker re- ceived the brigadiership in the regular army left vacant by his death. This promotion was specially urged by General McClellan "as an act of justice to the merits of a most excellent officer, who was eminently conspicuous for his gallantry and ability as a leader in several hard-fought battles in A^irgiina, and who, at the battle of Antietam Creek, was wounded at the head of his corps while leading it forward in ac- tion. It would be but a fit reward for the service General Hooker rendered his country. I feel sure his appoint- ment would gratify the entire army." Recovering from his wound, General Hooker was restored to the Army of n—53 the Potomac, now under General Bum- side, who had just succeeded General McClellan. The army now moved to the Rappahannock, and took up a posi- tion in front of Fredericksburg. In the great action of December 13, when the Union forces were sent across the river and suffered a disastrous repulse from the enemy's superior position, General Hooker's grand division bore its part gallantly in the sacrifices of the day, though he differed from the com- mander-in-chief as to the feasibility of the point of attack. At the close of the following month, General Burnside was relieved of his command and Gene- ral Hooker appointed in his place. He had now an opportunity to try his own method of attack, and accordingly, after various preparations, at the end of April, 1863, crossed the Rappahan- nock with his army, about twenty-five miles above Fredericksburg, with a view of turning the enemy's position, cutting off Lee's retreat to Richmond, and compelling him to fight on terms favorable to the Union army. General Stoneman, with a considerable cavalry force, was meanwhile sent to cut off the enemy's line of communications. Gene- ral Hooker, confident of victory, massed his army at Chancellorsville. On the 2d of May the action commenced by a vigorous attack by the enemy under General Jackson on the Union right wing, which gave way before the impe- tuous assault. This disaster was par- tially repaired, and the contest was renewed with much severe fighting the I next day. On the following, a violent rain storm, by overflowing the river in I his rear, threatened to cut off the army 422 JOSEPH HOOKER. from its supplies, and the order was given to retreat. Thus Chancellorsville was added to the indecisive battles of the war. A month of comparative quiet now ensued on the Rappahan- nock, when the Confederate general, Lee, suddenly set his army in motion, crossed the river, and hastened to a second grand invasion of Maryland and Pennsylvania. He was promptly fol- lowed by General Hooker, who, by forced marches, transported his army to Washington, and.was about to meet his old antagonist in Maryland, when, on the 28th of June, he was relieved of the command, and succeeded by one of the most efficient of his corps com- manders, General Meade. Such, up to the time at which we write (August, 1863), has been General Hooker's record in the field. Though of necessity but briefly indicated in this sketch, his career in the Army of the Potomac, frequently illustrated by dar- ing valor, if not always successful, has at critical moments, on more than one occasion, claimed for him the gratitude of his country. / BENJAMIN F. BUTLER. Major-Gexeual Butler, of the vo- lunteer service of the United States in the war for the suppression of the Re- bellion, is a native of the State of New Hampshire. He was born in Deer- field, Rockingham County, November 5, 1818. Self-reliant as a youth, and dependent upon his own exertions, he worked his way to a liberal education. Entering AVaterville College, Maine, of which institution he was a graduate in 1838, he then applied himself to the study of the law in Lowell, Alassachu- setts, where, on his admission to the bar, in 1811, he began the practice of his profession, and soon became known .Is n successful advocate. Prompt, bold, and sagacious, he was particularly dis- tinguished as a criminal lawyer. As an evidence of his ingenuity, it is said, that at the very commencement of his career, he secured the small claim of a female operative against a wealthy manufac- turer by attaching the main wheel of his factory. The anecdote was after- wards called to mind, when, as major- general at Xew Orleans, he was dealing with the Rebellion, and, ever fertile in expedients, was, by some direct stroke of the kind, constantly arresting the movements of his adversaries. A lawyer of the turn of mind and professional habits of Air. Butler is ever likely in America to find his way into political life, and he was no exception to the rule. His early experience, per- haps, or native rugged force of charac- ter, attached him to the Democratic party, of which he became an active member, in Afi^admsetts, heing elect- ed to the State House of Representa- tives in 18.")3. He was a member of the convention for the formation of a new State Constitution the same year, and in 1S.">9 was chosen a member of the Senate. In the Presidential cam- paign of the following year he bore a prominent part, serving as a delegate in the Democratic Convention at Charles- ton, and subsequently at Baltimore. A strict party man, he favored and ad- hered to the nomination of Breckin- ridge. He was at this time an unsuc- cessful candidate for governor of Alassa- chusetts. In addition to his other ac- tivities, he held the rank of brigadier- general of militia in the military organ- ization of the State. Such were the antecedents of General Butler when the attack upon Sumter, in April, 1861, summoned the nation to arms. No one responded more ] >r< miptly to the call. Party was forgotten, or rather thrown aside, as, placed hi com- mand by General Andrews, of the Alas- ou the in>taut 428 sackusetts regiment- O 124 BENJAMIN F. BUTLER. gathered for the defence of AVashington,! he hastened to the field. He was on his way with the eighth regiment at Philadelphia, when the advance of his command were fired on in the streets of Baltimore. Quickly appreciating the situation, he hastened to Havre de Grace, seized the steam ferry-boat at that place, and sailed with his troops down the Chesapeake to Annapolis, where he arrived in time to occupy the town and rescue the old frigate Con- stitution, " Old Ironsides," from the in- surgents. An order to his regiment congratulated them on this patriotic service. " It was given," said he of the honored ship, "to Massachusetts and Essex County first to man her; it was reserved to Massachusetts to have the honor to retain her for the service of the Union and the laws. This is a suf- ficient triumph of right, a sufficient tri- umph for us." In recognition of his position, General Butler was immedi- ately placed by the Government in command of the Department of Anna- polis, including the city of Baltimore. On the 5th of May, advancing, he took possession of the Relay House, and on the 11th entered the city, and estab- lished his head-quarters in a fortified camp on Federal Hill. Having in this short time restored order to his depart- ment, he was, on the 16th, appointed major-general of volunteers, and as- signed to the new Department of East- ern ATirginia, with his head-quarters at Fortress Monroe. General Butler arrived at the fortress on the 22d of May, and the next day set on foot a reconnoissance of the I neighboring country to Hampton and the James River, forming a camp on the main-land, and occupying the im- portant position of Newport News. The advance of the soldiery repelled the white population, and brought to the camp numbers of the negro slave population, presenting a new problem to the commander. This he promptly solved in a way of his own. Observ- ing the aid given by the blacks to their masters in their fortifications, when ap- plication was made by a rebel officer for the return of several of these fugi- tives, he refused the request, claiming them as " contraband of war;" while he undertook the support of those who fell into his hands, setting the able- bodied at work, crediting them with their labor, and charging them for their maintenance. This decision gave a new word to the language—" contra- bands " from this time being familiarly employed as a designation of the fugi- tive or released slave. The chief military incident of Gem eral Butler's command at Fortress Monroe was the attack, in June, upon the enemy in position at Great Bethel. Like many of the early efforts of the northern army in the war, it proved unsuccessful, training and experience .being necessary for opera- tions in the field. In other affairs Gen- eral Butler found himself an efficient officer. In the middle of August he was succeeded in the department by General Wool ; when, remaining in command of the volunteer forces out- side the fortress in this c.apacity, a few davs after he accompanied a detach- ment of the troops in the joint naval and military expedition to llatteras Island BENJAMIN In the operations for the reduction of that place on the twenty-eighth, he landed a portion of his small command, and was about, on the following day, to disembark with the remainder, when the enemy's forts, overcome by the na- val attack, surrendered, and the agree- able duty fell to his lot of imposing the terms of capitulation. He required an unconditional surrender, which was conceded. His work being thus early accomplished, he returned in one of the transports to Fortress Monroe, and was the first to bear the news of the vic- tory to the North. After this, General Butler was placed in command in New England, where, for the remainder of the year, he was diligently engaged in mustering the forces for a new and important expedi- tion, destined for the capture of New Orleans. Several months were passed in the enlistment and equipment of the troops. At length, at the end of Feb- ruary, 1862, General Butler embarked at Boston, in the United States steam transport Mississippi, with fourteen hundred troops, to join the other land forces of the expedition, which had been sent forward to Ship Island, in the Gulf of Mexico. On the voyage the steamer ran aground on a shoal on the coast of North Carolina, and was compelled to stop at Port Royal to re- lit, finally reaching her destination on the 23d of Alarch. A month from that date, the joint fleets of Farragut and Porter commenced their attack upon Forts Jackson and Saint Philip, in the Mississippi, General Butler cooperating with ehdit thousand troops in transport vessels. In the plan of the attack it F BUTLER. 425 was arranged that if the forts were not immediately reduced by the bombard- ment, General Butler should carry hia force out of the southwest pass into the Gulf and effect a landing in the rear of the works, to cut them off from supplies, or take them by assault. The contingency arose, and the appointed work was performed. General Butler, • under circumstances of unusual diffi- culty, landed three thousand of his men on the morass, and invested Fort Jackson, the most important of the de- fences. The garrison mutinied against their officers, turned their guns against them, and the majority of them surren- dered to the pickets preparatory to the formal delivery of the forts to Com- mander Porter on the 28th of August. Captain Farragut meanwhile had as- cended the river to New Orleans, whither General Butler immediately proceeded to take command of the city. At this period commences the most characteristic period of his career. The peculiar state of society in New Orleans, largely composed of a violent and dis- - affected population, ill disposed to ac- cept the return to the Union sud- denly enforced upon them, required the constant exercise of vigilance on the part of the new rulers. It was an authority in which discretion was as necessarv as firmness. General But- ler in a remarkable degree pos-e^ed • both, united with a sagacity or mother wit which anticipated evil and kept off disaster. His first requirement, in face of the early exhibitions of treason and violence, was that the flag should be I ropeoted. '" I find the city under the 426 BENJAMIN F. BUTLER. dominion of the mob," he wrote, on his arrival, to the Secretary of AVar. " They have insulted our flag—torn it down with indignity. This outrage will be punished in such a manner as, in my judgment, will caution both the perpe- trators and abettors of the act, so that they shall fear the stripes if they do not reverence the stars of our banner." For this offence, Mumford, the perpetra- tor, was afterwards tried by a military commission, under General Butler's rule, and executed. The example was thought necessary, and it was said had a whole- some effect upon the future order of the city. In other memorable instances, re- spect for the laws was enforced by tem- porary imprisonment of influential per- sonages who showed hostility to the Government. One of his numerous "orders" excited much unfriendly criticism, being greatly misrepresented, of which, indeed, from its nature, it was readily susceptible. It was intended to remedy an evil which had been felt wherever the Northern armies had come in contact with the po- pulation of the Southern "cities, among which numerous women were found who systematically, and sometimes grosely insulted, the Union officers and men. This was frequently carried to a length to be insupportable. Gene- ral Butler accordinsrlv issued his order: " As officers and soldiers of the United . States have been subjected to repeated insults from women calling themselves ladies of New Orleans, in return for the most scrupulous non-interference and courtesy on our part, it is ordered here- after, when any female shall, by mere gesture or movement, insult or show contempt for any officers or soldiers of the United States, she shall be regard- ed and held liable to be treated as a wo- man-about-town plying her vocation." Disaffected persons chose to consider the order ambiguous, and vented their indignation upon what they denounced as its impropriety accordingly. It was simply intended to make the act thoroughly disreputable, saying, in ef- fect, if a woman is so lost to modesty as to insult a stranger conducting him- self with decorum, and that stranger entitled to particular honor, as an offi- cer of the United States, let her be as- sociated with the infamy of which her conduct is a sus^estion. It was, un- doubtedly, putting the thing in a strong light, but it was a necessary warning, and it cured the evil. Repressing disturbances and counter- acting disloyalty were but parts of General Butler's duty in New Orleans. He had the military safety of his de- partment to provide for, which, with a moderate force, he made amply secure; and, most pressing of all, he had a starving population to support. No less than ten thousand families, num- bering about thirty-four thousand per- sons, were fed each day by the bounty of a relief commission which he insti- tuted. To provide the necessary out- lay he imposed fines upon wealthy citi- zens who had given their aid to the Rebellion. The intelligent and influen- tial were thus made responsible for the suffering of the poor and ignorant. A thousand of the needy were kept con- stantly employed in improving the con- dition of the city; and so beneficial was this labor, that a season which was ex- BENJAMIN pected to be one of unusual sickness, proved to be one of extraordinary health. In tin; discharge of these and other duties of equal utility, with a jealous regard for the national authority, General Butler continued in command of the department through the year, closing his administration with an im- portant and successful military move- ment, bringing under his rule the lower district of Louisiana, on the western bank of the Alississippi. In December, 1862, he was succeeded by General Banks, when he took leave of his Army of the Gulf in a general order, in which he recapitulated the prominent inci- dents of the service. " At your occupa- tion,1' said he, " order, law, quiet, and peace sprang to this city, filled with the, bravos of all nations, where, for a score of years, during the profoundest peace, human life was scarcely safe at mxmday. By your discipline you illus- trated the best traits of the American soldier, and enchained the admiration of those that came to scoff. Landing with a military chest containing but seventv-five dollars, from the hoards of a rebel government you have given to your country's treasury nearly a half million of dollars, and so supplied yourselves with the needs of your ser- vice that your expedition has cost your F. BUTLER. 427 Government less by four-fifths than any other. You have fed the starving poor, the wives and children of your enemies, so converting enemies into friends that they-have sent their representatives to your Congress by a vote greater than your entire numbers, from districts in which, when you entered, you were tauntingly told there was ' no one to raise your flag.' By your practical* phi- lanthropy you have won the confidence of the ' oppressed race' and the slave. Hailing you as deliverers, they are ready to aid you as willing servants, faithful laborers, or, using the tactics taught them by your enemies, to fight with you in the field. By steady atten- tion to the laws of health, you have stayed the pestilence; and, humble in- struments in the hand of God, you have demonstrated the necessity that His creatures should obey His laws, and, reaping His blessing, in this most un- healthy climate, you have preserved your ranks fuller than those of any other battalions of the same length of service. A^ou have met double numbers of the enemy and defeated him in the open field; but I need not further en- large upon this topic. You were sent here to do that. I commend you to your commander. A^ou are worthy of his love. Farewell, my comrades; attain, fan-well I" JAMES SHIELDS Bbkjadier-Geiteral James Shields, of the United States Volunteers in the War for the Union, is a native of Ire- land. He was born in the county of Tyrone, in the year 1810; he emigrated to the United States at the age of six- teen, pursued a course of liberal studies, and in 1832 settled at Kaskaskia, Illi- nois, becoming a citizen of the State, and engaging in the practice of the law. Early entering on political life, he be- came a prominent member of the Demo- cratic party, and his promotion was rapid. He was elected in 1836 a mem- ber of the State legislature, and in 1839 Auditor of the State. In 1843 he was appointed Judge of the Supreme Court of Illinois, and in 1845, in the adminis- tration of President Polk, removed to Washington, having received the ap- pointment of Commissioner of the Gene- ral Land Office. The Mexican War now breaking out, he offered his services for the field, and was appointed by the President, brigadier-general of volun- teers, 1st of July, 1846. In this capa city he was with the army of General Scott on his march to the capital by way of Vera Cruz, and on several occa- sions in the campaign distinguished himself in action. For his gallant a.nd meritorious conduct at Cerro Gordo, where he was dangerously wounded, 428 he was brevetted major-general of vo lunteers. In the further advance to- ward the capital he was again severely wounded at the battle of Chapultepec. His brigade in the Valley of Mexico consisted of a battalion of marines and New York and South Carolina regi- ments of volunteers. The war being ended, General Shields retired into private life, resuming his residence in Illinois, whence, in 1849, he was sent by the legislature to the United States Senate. On the comple- tion of his term, in 1855, identified with the interests of the West, he removed to Minnesota, and settled on lands which had been bestowed upon him by the Government for his army services. On the adoption of a constitution by that territory, he was again sent to the United States Senate, in 1858, as a re- presentative of the new State, and served through the short term, at the conclusion of which he removed to Ca- lifornia. When the great Rebellion, in the spring of 1861, called most of the offi- cers of the old Mexican army again into the field, General Shields was naturally looked to by his countrymen, who formed so large a portion of the new army, for active service. He responded | to the call, presented himself at Wash- /■- — c^ 77 JAMES Sill ELDS. 429 ington, and received the appointment, from California, of brigadier-general of volunteers, his commission bearing date August 19, 1861. lb- was called into active service on the death of Gen- eral Lander, in March, 1862, when he succeeded that officer in his command in Virginia on the upper Potomac. In the campaign which immediately ensu- ed in the valley of the Shenandoah he bore an important part, being in com- mand at the battle of Winchester. This action, fought on the 23d of March, fol- lowed on the memorable advance of General Banks, in command of the de- partment, into the valley from Harper's Ferry, a movement which led to the enemy's evacuation of their cherished position at Manassas, and was the pre- cursor of the long series of active ope- rations of the Army of the Potomac on the Peninsula. The advance of Gene- ral Banks with his forces at the begin- ning of the month caused the retreat of the Confederates. Charlestown, Lees- burgh, Martinsburgh, and presently Winchester, on the 12th, were occupied by the Union forces. General Shields, with his division, was then sent forward on a reconnoissmiee beyond Strasburg, when he discovered the rebel general, Jackson, reinforced, in a strong position near Newmarket, within supporting dis- tance of the main body of the enemy under Johnston. " It was necessary"— we cite the account of General Shields himself, in a characteristic letter to a friend, written shortly after the event— "to decoy him from that position. Therefore I fell back rapidly to AVin- chester on the 20th, as if in retreat, marching my whole command nearly n.—54 thirty miles in one day. My force was placed at night in a secluded position, two miles from Winchester, on the Alar- tinsbundi road. On the 21st the rebel cavalry, under Ashby, showed them- selves to our pickets, within sight of Winchester. On the 22d, all of Gene- ral Banks' command, with the excep- tion of my division, evacuated AVin- chester, en route for Centreville. This movement, and the masked position of my division, made an impression upon the inhabitants, some of whom were in secret communication with the enemy, that our army had left, and that nothing remained but a few regiments to garri- son this place. Jackson was signalized to this effect. I saw their signals and divined their meaning. About five o'clock on the afternoon of the 22d, Ashby. believing that the town was almost evacuated, attacked our pickets and drove them in. This success in- creased his delusion. It became neces- sary, however, to repulse them for the time being. I, therefore, ordered for- ward a brigade, and placed it in front, between AVinchester and the enemy. I only let them see. however, two regi- ments of infantry, two batteries of ar- tillery, and a small force of cavalry, which he mistook as the whole force left to garrison and protect the place. In a little skirmish that evening, while placing the artillery in position, I was struck by a fragment of a shell, which broke my arm above the elbow, injured mv shoulder, and damaged me other- wise to such an extent that I have lain prostrate ever since. " I commenced making preparations for any emergency that might occur 430 JAMES SHIELDS. that night or the next morning. Under cover of the night I ordered an entire brigade (Kimball's) to take up a strong position in advance. I pushed forward four batteries, having them placed in a strong position to support the infantry. I placed Sullivan's brigade on both flanks to prevent surprise and to keep my flank from being turned, and I held Tyler's brigade in reserve, to operate against any point that might be as- sailed in front. In this position I awaited and expected the enemy's at- tack next morning. My advance bri- gade was two miles from the town, its pickets extending perhaps a mile fur- ther along the turnpike leading to Strasburg. About eight o'clock in the morning:, I sent forward two officers to reconnoitre the front and report in- dications of the enemy. They returned in an hour, reporting no enemy in sight except Ashby's force of cavalry, infan- try, and artillery, which by this time had become familiar and contemptible to us. General Banks, who was yet there in person, upon hearing the re- port, concluded that Jackson could not be in front possibly, or be decoyed so far away from the main body of the rebel army. In this opinion I, too, be- gan to concur, concluding that Jackson was too sagacious to be caught in such a trap. General Banks therefore left for Washington. His staff officers were directed to follow the same day, by way of Centreville. Knowing the crafty enemy, however, I had to deal with, I omitted no precaution. My whole force was concentrated, and prepared to sup- poi .• Kimball's brigade, which was in advance. About half-past ten o'clock it became evident we had a considera- ble force before us ; but the enemy still concealed himself so adroitly in the woods that it was impossible to estimate his numbers. I ordered a portion of the artillery forward to open fire and unmask them. By degrees they began to show themselves. They planted bat- tery after battery in strong position, on the centre and on both flanks. Our artillery responded, and this continued until about half-past three o'clock in the afternoon, when I directed a column of infantry to carry a battery on their left flank and to assail that flank, which was done promptly and splendidly by Tyler's brigade, aided by some regi- ments from the other brigades. The fire of our infantry was so close and de- structive that it made havoc in their ranks. The result was the capture of their guns on the left and the forcing back of their wing on the centre, thus placing them in a position to be routed by a general attack, which was made about five o'clock by all the infantry, and succeeded in driving them in flight from the field. Night fell upon us at this stage, leaving us im possession of the field of battle, two guns and four caissons, three hundred prisoners, and about one thousand stand of small arms." The loss of the enemy in killed was estimated at five hundred, and twice that number wounded; the Union loss one hundred and fifty killed, and three hundred wounded. Such, in the narrative of General Shields, was the battle of Winchester. The victory was gratefully acknowledg- ed by the Secretary of War, who pro- nounced it a "brilliant achievement:" JAMES SHIELDS. 431 while General AlcClellan, then General- in-Chief, congratulated General Shields and his troops upon their " energy, ac- tivity, and bravery." General Shields in a short time re- covered from the injury which he had received, and resumed his active duties in the field. In May, his division was detached from the command of General Banks and placed under that of Gene- ral McDowell on the Rappahannock, when it was presently sent to the upper portion of the valley of the Shenandoah to cut off the retreat of the Confederate general, Jackson, who had driven Gen- eral Banks to the Potomac, and was now in his turn again pursued. Gene- ral Shields in this movement cooperat- ed with General Fremont, the one pur- suing the enemy to the east of the She- nandoah River, the other on the left, and the efforts of both to resist the march of Jackson were unsuccessful. A portion of General Shields' division was defeated in the action at Port Re- public, on the 9th of June. This ended the campaign. Other dispositions of the forces were now required, in the arrangement of which General Shields was relieved from active service. THOMAS FRANCIS DUPONT. This eminent officer of the United States Navy, who has been employed in its most responsible service and at- tained its highest honors, was born at Bergen Point, in the State of New Jersey, September 27, 1803. As the name indicates, the family is of French "descent; his grandfather and father having emigrated to the United States at the end of the last century. Young Dupont, the subject of this notice, en- tered the navy in his boyhood, being commissioned a midshipman at the age of twelve. He was appointed from the State of Delaware, December 19, 1815. Of the forty-eight years which have been passed by him since that time in the public service, about one half the time ha? been spent in active duty at sea. His first cruise was in 1817, with Com- modore Stuart, in the old frigate Frank- lin. In 1836, being then a lieutenant, he commanded the Warren, attached to the squadron of Commodore Dallas in the West Indies. Having been pro- moted to the rank of commander, in 1845 he was assigned the command of the frigate Congress, the flag-ship of Commodore Stockton, in a cruise in the Pacific. The following year he com- manded the sloop-of-war Cyane, then employed in the squadron of Commo- dores Shubrick and Jones on the Cali- 483 fornia coast. It was the period of the Mexican AVar, and the navy was fre- quently called upon, then and for some time after, to assist the military power in that quarter. On one occasion, in 1848, Commander Dupont landed at San Jose with a body of marines and sailors, and defeated a largely superior force of Mexicans, rescuing a small party under Lieutenant Heywood, who had been beleaguered in the Mission House. In 1856, he was promoted to a captaincy, and the following year sailed in command of the steam frigate Minnesota, on a two years' cruise in the China Seas. On his return to the United States, he was, in January, 1861, appointed to the command cf the navy-yard at Philadelphia. This long-continued employment at sea and the regard in which he was held in his profession, as well for his high personal character as his executive ability, pointed Captain Dupont out as one well qualified for a high command in the arduous services now required from the navy. Accordingly, when the department, early in the administra- tion of President Lincoln, was summon- ing its resources for operations on the Atlantic coast, Captain Dupont was placed at the head of a board of in- quiry, specially summoned at AVash- -j THOMAS FRANCIS DUPONT. 433 ington for deliberation on the course to be taken. The occupation of Hat- teras Island was among the first results of this movement, and when a larger and more important expedition was prepared for a descent upon the coast of South Carolina, Captain Dupont was placed at the head of the imposing fleet destined for the work. The choice of the locality at which the demonstra- tion should be made, was, in a great measure, left to his discretion. It was in accordance with his advice, supported by that of the able Assistant-Secretary of the Navy, Mr. Fox, that possession of the excellent harbor of Port Royal was determined upon as the grand ob- ject of the expedition. During the summer and autumn of 1861, prepara- tions for the work were made on the most ample scale. After various de- lays, the land and naval force, the former commanded by General T. AV. Sherman, comprising a fleet of fifty ves- sels, including transports, set sail on the 29th of October, from Hampton Roads, Commodore Dupont in the flag- ship Wabash, leading the way. The weather, fair at starting, after the ships had slowly passed Hatteras, changed into a storm of great severity, in which the fleet was widely scattered, several transport steamers foundered, many lives were lost, and others preserved only by the greatest devotion and hero- ism. A week was-passed in suffering and repairing the disasters, and in making the preliminary surveys off Hil- ton Head. On the 6th of November, the flag-ship crossed the bar, and on the forenoon of the following day the fleet went forward to encounter the formi- dable defences on either side of the river, of Fort AYalker and Fort Beau- regard, and the unknown strength of the enemy's flotilla, under Commodore Tatnall. The order of battle was ad- mirably arranged by Commodore Du- pont. As described by him in his offi- cial report, it comprised " a main squadron ranged in a line ahead, and a flanking squadron, which was to be thrown off on the northern section of the harbor to engage the enemy's flo- tilla, and preventing them taking the rear ships of the main line when it turned to the southward, or cutting off a disabled vessel. The plan of attack was to pass up midway between Forts Walker and Beauregard, receiving and returning the fire of both, to a certain distance, about two and a half miles north of the latter. At that point the line was to turn to the south, round by the west, and close in with Fort Walker, encountering it on its weakest flank, and at the same time enfilading in nearly a direct line, its two water faces. AVhile standing to the south- ward, the vessels of the line were head to tide, which kept them under com- mand, whilst the rate of going was diminished. AVhen abreast of the fort, the engines were to be slowed, and the movement reduced to only as much as would be just sufficient to overcome the tide, to preserve the order of battle by passing the batteries in slow succes- sion, and to avoid becoming a fixed mark for the enemy's fire. On reach- ing the extremity of Hilton Head and the shoal ground making off from it, the line was to turn to the north by the east, and, pa-sing to the northward, 434 THOMAS FRANCIS DUrOXT. to engage Fort Walker, with the port battery nearer than when first on the same course. These evolutions were to be repeated." The plan thus adroitly arranged was systematically carried out. The flag- ship in advance, commenced the move- ment, followed by her comrades. Three times passing the formidable Fort AYalker—at distances of eight hundred and six hundred yards, the Wabash poured her destructive fire into the work. Her immediate consort, the Sus- quehanna, gave her powerful assistance, while the smaller vessels at the enfilad- ing point swept the fort with their guns. "The enemy," wrote Commo- dore Dupont in a private letter to Se- cretary Fox, " fought bravely, and their rifle guns never missed. An eighty- pound rifle ball went through our main- mast in the very centre, making an awful hole. They aimed at our bridge, where they knew they could make a hole if they were lucky. A shot in the centre let water into the after maga- zine, but I saved a hundred lives by keeping under way and bearing in close. We found their sights gradu- ated at six hundred yards. When they once broke, the stampede was intense, and not a gun was spiked. In truth, I never conceived of such a fire as that of this ship on her second turn, and I am told that its effect upon the specta- tors outside of her was intense. I learn that when they saw our flag fly- ing on shore, the troops were powerless to cheer, but wept. General Sherman was deeply affected, and the soldiers were loud and unstinting in their ex- pressions of admiration and gratitude." This brilliant victory called forth from the country the highest congratu- lations. The sentiment of Commodore Dupont in his order to the officers and men of his squadron, in which he ex- pressed his " full sympathy in the satis- faction they must feel at seeing the ensign of the Union flying once more in the State of South Carolina, which has been the chief promoter of the wicked and unprovoked rebellion they have been called upon to suppress," was everywhere echoed. Secretary Welles, in the name of the nation, ten- dered his heartfelt congratulations to the commander for " the brilliant suc- cess," and Congress, at the especial re- quest of President Lincoln, by a joint vote of thanks, added its tribute in ac- knowledgment of "the services and gallantry " of officers and men. Flag-officer Dupont continued in command of the South Atlantic Block- ading Squadron, and in the following spring conducted an expedition from Hilton Head along the coast of Georgia and Florida, compelling the surrender or abandonment of the forts at St. Simon's Sound, the St. Mary's, and St. John's, and establishing Union garri- sons at Fernandina, St. Augustine, and other important points. These events occupied the month of March; in April, Captain Dupont had the satisfaction of taking part in the final proceedings, so satisfactorily terminated by the bril- liant engineering operations of General Gilmore, of the siege of Fort Pulaski. As a reward for the services in his de- partment, Flag-officer Dupont was, in August, promoted to the rank of rear- admiral, the highest grade in the ser- THOMAS FRANCIS DUPONT. 435 vice, created by an act of the recent Congress. The remainder of the year was em- ployed by Admiral Dupont in various duties in his department at Port Royal and among the islands, in which the fleet bore a prominent part. In the spring of 1863, a squadron of powerful iron clads having been gathered at Hilton Head, an anxiously expected assault was made upon the forts in Charleston harbor. Admiral Dupont commanded the fleet, upon which the whole movement depended. The attack was made on the 7th of April. The monitors and other iron-clad vessels were led gallantly into action ; but chiefly owing to unexpected difficulties in the obstruction of the channel, the fleet being kept under the concentrated fire of the forts, the movement which was expected to result in the capture of Charleston failed of success. Compara- tively little injury was suffered by the monitors, while considerable damage was inflicted on Fort Sumter ; but no- thing was gained by the fleet beyond a better knowledge of the situation and a practical test of the power of the new naval batteries. In June, Admiral Dupont had the satisfaction of reporting to the depart- ment the capture of the famous rebel iron clad, the Atlanta, in Warsaw Sound. This vessel, formerly an English mer- chant steamer, the Fingal, had been fitted up at a great cost at Savannah, and much was expected from her prow- ess in attacking the blockading fleet. A few >hots, however, from the monitor Weehawken, Captain John Rodgers, on her first coming out, effectually disposed of her pretensions. Shortly after this, Admiral Dupont was relieved of the command of the South Atlantic Blockading Squadron, which he had for nearly two years held with distinguished honor, and leturned to his home at the North. Admiral Dupont, after witnessing the termination of the war, in which he had borne so gallant and patriotic a part, died suddenly at the La Pierre House, in Philadelphia, on the morning of the twentv-third of .Inup. 1865. DAVID GLASCOE FARRAGUT. This energetic and intrepid naval officer, whose career on the Mississippi, from the Gulf of Mexico to Vicksburg, has identified him with some of the most substantial services rendered to his country in the AVar for the Union, was born in East Tennessee, near Knox- ville, about the year 1801. His father, an intimate friend of General Jackson, at that time held the rank of major in a cavalry regiment in the service of the United States—military talents being in request in what was then a frontier region infested by hostile Indians. On one occasion, in the childhood of David, his mother, in the absence of her hus- band, was required to defend her house against a party of those savage marau- ders, which she did with spirit, remov- ing the children to a place of safety and parleying with the assailants through a partially barricaded door till Major Far- ragut with his squadron of horse op- portunely came to the rescue. Scenes like this were well calculated to give strength and hardihood to a youth of spirit. AVe accordingly find young Da- vid, when his father was called to New Orleans to take command of a gun-boat at the opening of the war of 1812, anx- ious also to enter the service. Falling in with Commodore Pcrter, his wishes were gratified in a midshipman's ap- 486 pointment on board that commander's ship, the Essex. In this famous vessel he made the passage of Cape Horn, and in his 1-ovhood participated in that no- vel and remarkable career of naval con- quest and adventure, which was termi- nated by the heroic action with two English ships, the Phcebe and Cherub —one of the bloodiest on record—in the harbor of Valparaiso. Young Far- ragut, boy as he was, seems to have par- ticularly distinguished himself in this emrao-ement. His name is mentioned with honor in the official report of Commodore Porter as one of several midshipmen who " exerted themselves in the performance of their respective duties, and gave an earnest of their va- lue to the service," adding that he was prevented by his youth from recom- mending him for promotion. He was then but thirteen, and previously to the action had been engaged in con- ducting one of the English prizes taken by the Essex from Guayaquil to Valpa- raiso, against the strong remonstrance of the British captain, who objected to being under the orders of a boy; but the boy insisted upon performing his duty, and was sustained in its per- formance. Returning with the rest of the offi cers of the Essex on parole to the Uui- *7, y y^7 7 7 s S' . DAVID GLASC ted States, young Farragut was placed by Commodore Porter at Chester, Penn- sylvania, under the tuition of one of Bonaparte's Swiss Guards, who taught his pupils militaiy tactics. IJeing ex- changed, the youth resumed his naval career as midshipman till 1825, when, being on the West India station, he was commissioned a lieutenant. For the next sixteen years we find him engag- ed in various service on board the Brandywine, Vandalia, and other ves- sels, on the coast of Brazil, and on the receiving-ship at the Norfolk Navy Yard. lie was commissioned Com- mander in 1841, and ordered to the sloop-of-war Decatur, in which he join- ed the Brazil squadron. Three years' leave of absence succeeded, when he was again on duty at Norfolk, and in lsl7 was placed in command of the sloop-of-war Saratoga, of the Home Squadron. He was then for several years second in command at the Nor- folk Navy Yard, and in 1851 was ap- pointed Assistant-Inspector of Ord- nance. He held this appointment for three years, when he was ordered, in 1854, to the command of the new Navy Ward established at Mare Island, near San Francisco, California In 1855, he was commissioned captain, remaining in charge of the Navy Yard on the Pa- cific till 1858, when he was ordered to the command of the sloop-of-war Brook- lyn, of the Home Squadron, from which he was relieved in 1860. The opening of the Rebellion thus found him at home awaiting orders. nis residence was at Norfolk, where he was in rather a critical position when, on the fall of Sumter, the leaders n—55 >E FARRAGUT. 437 of the revolt in ATirginia hurried the State out of the Union. His loyalty was well known, and of course exposed him to suspicion and hatred. It was evident to him that he could no longer live in Virginia in safety, without com- promising his opinions, and at the last moment, the day before the Navy Yard was burned, narrowly escaping impris- onment, he left with his family for the North, his journey being interrupted by the destruction of the railroad track from Baltimore. Arrived at New York, he placed hfs family in a cottage at Hastings, on the Hudson, in the vicin- ity of Xew A'ork, in readiness, at the first opportunity, to enter on active service. When the navy was reinforc- ed by the building of ships," and esta- blished on its new footing, in the first year of President Lincoln's administra- tion of the department, when the cap- ture of llatteras. and Port Royal had given an impulse to naval operations for the suppression of the Rebellion, this occasion was found in the organi- zation of the expedition against New Orleans. By an order of Secretary AVelles, dated January 20, 1862, Cap- tain Farragut was ordered to the Gulf of Alexico to the command of the AVest- ern Gulf Blockading Squadron, with such portion of which as could be spared, supported by a fleet of bomb vessels under Commander D. D. Por- ter he was further directed to " pro- ceed up the Alississippi River and re- duce the defences which guard the ap- proaches to New Orleans, when you will appear off that city and take pos- session of it under the guns of your squadron and hoist the American flag 488 DAVID GLASCOE FARRAGUT. therein, keeping possession until troops can be sent to you." Never was a programme of such mag- nitude more faithfully and directly car- ried out. The necessary preparations, which involved many delays, having been completed, at the earliest possible moment in March, Captain Farragut en- tered the Mississippi in his flag-ship, the steamer Hartford, accompanied by the vessels of his squadron. He was pre- sently followed by the mortar fleet of Porter, and everything was pushed for- ward to secure the object of the expedi- tion. The bombardment of Fort Jack- son was commenced on the 16th of April by the mortar fleet, and kept up vigor- ously for several days, preparatory to the advance of the fleet. Before dawn on the morning of the twenty-fourth, the way having been thus cleared and a channel through the river obstructions opened, Captain Farragut, having made every provision which ingenuity could sug- gest, set his little squadron in motion for an attack upon and passage of the forts. The fleet advanced in two co- lumns, the right to attack Fort St. Phi- lip and the left Fort Jackson. The ac- tion which ensued was one of the most exciting and, we may add, confused, in the annals of naval warfare. Passing chain barriers, encountering rafts, fire- ships, portentous rams and gun-boats, fires from the forts and batteries on shore, the officers of the fleet pushed on with an energy and presence of mind which nothing could thwart. In the perils of the day, the flag-ship was not the least exposed and endangered. " I discovered," says Captain Farragut in his report, "a fire-raft coming down upon us, and in attempting to avoid it ran the ship on shore, and the ram Ma- nassas, which I had not seen, lay on the opposite of it and pushed it down upon us. Our ship was soon on fire half-way up to her tops, but we backed off, and through the good organization of our fire department and the great exertions of Captain AVainwright and his first- lieutenant, officers and crew, the fire was extinguished. In the meantime our battery was never silent, but poured in its missiles of death into Fort St. Philip, opposite to which we had got by this time, and it was silenced with the ex- ception of a gun now and then. By this time the enemy's gun-boats, some thirteen in number, besides two iron- clad rams, the Manassas and Louisiana, had become more visible. We took them in hand, and, in the course of a short time, destroyed eleven of them. We were now fairly past the forts, and the victory was ours ; but still here and there a gun-boat making resistance.. . . It was a kind of guerilla; they were fighting in all directions." Leaving Commander Porter to receive the surrender of the forts, and directing General Butler with his troops of the land forces to follow, Captain Farragut, with a portion of his fleet, proceeded up to New Orleans, witnessing as he ap- proached the city the enormous destruc- tion of property in cotton-loaded ships on fire, and other signs of devastation on the river. The forts in the immedi- ate vicinity of the city were silenced, and on the morning of the twenty-fifth, as the fleet came up, the levee, in the words of Captain Farragut, " was one scene of desolation; ships, steamers DAVID GLASC cotton, coal, etc., all in one common blaze, and our ingenuity being much taxed to avoid the floating conflagra- tion." In the midst of this wild scene of destruction, the surrender of New Or- leans was demanded, and after some parley the American flag was, on the twenty-sixth, hoisted on the Custom- house, and the Louisiana State flag hauled down from the City Hall. Gen- eral Butler next entered with his forces, and the mission of Flag-Officer Farragut was fulfilled to the letter. It was one of the most brilliant triumphs of the war, and justly was it celebrated by a general thanksgiving under direction of Flag-Officer Farragut, who, while be- fore the city, appointed an hour on the morning of the twenty-sixth, "for all the officers and crews of the fleet to re- turn thanks to Almighty God for his great goodness and mercy in permit- ting us to pass through the events of the last two days with so little loss of life and blood." The country hailed this decisive vic- tory with joy—the more that it was a success which, if not unexpected, was such as the wishes of the most sanguine could hardly have exceeded. Review- ing the incidents just recounted of this splendid achievement, Secretary Welles wrote to Flag-Officer Farragut, " in ob- taining possession and control of the lower Alississippi, yourself, your officers, and our brave sailors and marines, whose courage and daring bear historic renown, have won a nation's gratitude and applause. I congratulate you and your command on vour great success in having contributed so largely towards I )E FARRAGUT. 439 destroying the unity of the Rebellion, and in restoring again to the protection of the national government and the na- tional flag the important city of th^ Alis sissippi valley, and so large a portion of its immediate dependencies." At the especial request of President Lincoln, also, a vote of thanks was passed by both Houses of Congress to Captain Farragut, his officers and men, for their gallantry on the Alississippi and in the capture of Sew Orleans. More than a year of arduous labor for the land and naval forces of the upper and lower Mississippi remained before the possession of that river was secured to the Union. In these active operations Flag-Officer Farngut__he was appointed Rear-Admiral on the creation by Congress ()f this hio-hest rank in the navy in the summer of 1862 —with his flag-ship, the Hartford, was conspicuous. In the campaigns of two seasons on the river from New Orleans to A'icksburg, ending with the surren- der in July, 1863, of the latter long-de- fended stronghold and Port Hudson, the Hartford was constantly in active service. In these various encounters she was struck, it was said when the good ship returned to New York for repairs in the ensuing month, in the hull, masts, spars and rigging two hun- dred and forty times by round shot and shell, and innumerable times by Alinie and rifle balls. The reception of Admiral Farragut at New York, the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and at his new home at Hastings, was earnest and heartfelt, becoming the occasion and the man. / DAVID D. Among the coincidences of naval and military command in the War for the Union, the association of the names of Farragut and Porter, in the important series of operations on the Alississippi, has not escaped attention. The former, as the reader has seen in the previous sketch, was introduced to the service in his childhood, under the care and protection of Commodore David Porter, and boy as he was, fully shared the adventures and perils of his famous cruise in the Pacific. Nearly fifty years after that event, Captain Farragut, in command of the Department of the Gulf, entered the Alississippi in concert with the son of his old commander of the Essex, to vindicate the national honor by the restoration of New Or- leans to the Union—a service which was to prove the ability of both offi- cers, and lead them to the highest rank known to the naval service of the United States. Looking into the future, Com- modore Porter, the hero of the War of 1812, would hardly have dreamt that the " boy midshipman," who had been intro- duced to him at New Orleans, would, with two of his own sons, at the end of half a century, receive the highest honors of their country, the reward of the most arduous and perilous services against a domestic foe on the Mississippi. 440 PORTER Of these sons of Commodore Porter thus distinguished in this field of duty, AVilliam D. Porter, the elder, on more than one occasion, in command of the gun-boat Essex, recalled not merely the name of his father's vessel, but the cou- rage and patriotism, the spirit and suc- cess which had given the old ship her reputation. The younger, David D. Porter, the subject of this notice, born in Philadelphia, entered the navy as midshipman in the year 1829. His first cruise was in the Mediterranean, under Commodore Biddle, till 1831. After a year's leave of absence, he re- turned to that station, which has ever proved, in its liberal intercourse with the men of other nations, and its undy- ing associations of nature and art, a most important school in the education of the young naval officers of the Uni- ted States. Having passed his exami- nation in 1835, young Porter was at- tached to the coast survey service from 1836 to 1841, when he was promoted to a lieutenancy, and was ordered to the frigate Congress, in which he sailed for four years on the Mediterranean and South American stations. In Ls45 we find him attached to the National Observatory at AVashington in special service. During the Mexican War which succeeded he was in charge of the III & r? /i ry gu. -C g^—z^tt. WILLIAM STARK ROSECRANS. Majou-Gen-eral Rosecrans, of the United States Army, was born in Kingston, Delaware County, Ohio, September 6, 1819. Of Prussian de- scent, the family were among the early emigrants, by way of Holland, to the Dutch settlement of New Netherlands, on the Hudson, out of which grew the prosperous colony of New York. The parents of the subject of this sketch, natives of Pennsylvania, after their marriage removed to Ohio, where the father, an enterprising farmer and man of business, renowned for his integrity, acquired a high character for his in- fluence in the region. He served in the War of lsl2, as adjutant to a company of horse, under General Har- rison. His son William was intro- duced in his boyhood to the precocious activity of the frontier. " At thir- teen," we are told, " he had become quite a man upon the farm, and at fourteen was sent to the store of one David Messenger, seven miles from his home, to close up the business, which he did successfully. At times he acted as book-keeper in the store, collected debts, and for some months, in 1837, was clerk in a clothinp* store."1 It was in this year, at the age of eighteen, 1 An interesting memoir, in " Aunalsofthe Army of the Cuinherlind," by ;in o;lkvr. I'ail.idelphia, 1863. that he received an appointment to the Military Academy at West Point, from which institution he graduated, with good standing as a student, in 1812, when he began his military career as second-lieutenant of engineers. After serving for a time in this capacity at Fortress Monroe, he was employed for several years at West Point as Assistant Professor of Philosophy and of Engi- neering. From 1817 to 1852 he had charge of the construction of the har- bor fortifications at Newport, Rhode Island, after which he was assigned to special duty as constructing engineer at the Washington Navy Yard. In this capacity his ingenuity and scien- tific resources proved of eminent use- fulness ; his health failing, however, he was obliged to ask for leave of absence, and presently to retire from the service. The Government reluctantly accepted his resignation, when, in the spring of 1854, he established himself in Cincin- nati as an architect and consulting en- gineer. The next year he was induced to take charge of the interests of an English and American coal company in Kanawha County, Virginia, an un- dertaking which lie conducted with his accustomed scientific ability, surveying the region, and reporting various plans of improvement. It was from his prac- 451 452 WILLIAM STARK ROSECRANS. tical knowledge, gained in these pur- suits, that he was led to engage in business at Cincinnati as a manufac- turer of coal oil, for which he set up an extensive establishment. "His first partner failing to make a marketable article, General Rosecrans," as we are informed in the narrative already cited, " determined to try it himself, and, ac- cordingly, entered the laboratory and began a series of experiments with a view to the manufacture of a pure and odorless oil. After sixteen days' labor, he had about succeeded in his efforts, when he was terribly burned by the combustion of benzole gas, caused by using what was then supposed to be a patent safety-lamp. Although his clothes and flesh were badly burned, he had the presence of mind to make such dispositions that the fire was ex- tinguished without injury to the works. He then walked home—a mile and a half—and took to his bed, where he lay nearly eighteen months, and for a time it was doubtful whether he could recover." At the end of this period of suffering; he was enabled to resume his business, which had necessarily suf- fered from his absence, and was en- gaged in this pursuit when the Rebel- lion summoned all persons of military experience to the field. Rosecrans was not the man to avoid such an appeal. Accordingly we find him early engaged in the service of Ohio, under Governor Dennison, making arrangements for the organization and equipment of the State troops. He had just been commissioned colonel of the twenty-third Ohio regiment, when he received from Washington the ap- pointment which he had solicited, of brigadier-general of volunteers in the national service. Reporting himself, according to orders, to General McClel- lan, he entered at once with that officer upon the campaign in West- ern Virginia, which led, on the 9th of July, 1861, to the Battle of Rich Moun- tain. In this engagement General Rose- crans bore the prominent part. The enemy, it will be remembered, with about two thousand men, commanded by Colonel Pegram, were holding the Beverley Road, at the foot of the mountain, a pass of the main channel of communication between Eastern and Western Virginia. To secure this po- sition and get in the rear of the main rebel force in this region, under Gene- ral Garnett, was now the object of General McClellan. On approaching the enemy's camp it was ascertained that a path led over the mountain on their left to the summit commanding their position. General Rosecrans was ordered forward to make the attack from this point, when General McClel- lan would advance in front and secure the victory. Setting out at dawn, marching his forces through the woods in a driving rain, General Rosecrans came upon the entrenched outpost of the enemy in the afternoon, when a sharp contest occurred, ending in driv- ing them from their position with the loss of two guns. That night he held the battle-field, overlooking the rebel camp, while General McClellan was preparing for an attack by the road. The enemy thus invested did not wait the next day's assault, but before morn- i ing began a retreat, in which they were _________ WILLIAM STJ interrupted by General Rosecrans, who captured their camp equipage and a large number of prisoners. Their remaining force after this was rapidly dispersed, General McClellan was immediately called to the command of the Army of the Potomac and Gene- ral Rosecrans left to conduct operations in Western Virginia. In September his command was again in action in an advance upon General Floyd's force on the Gauley River, at Carnifex Ferry. On reaching the enemy, after a rapid march, on the tenth, the engagement began in the afternoon in a reconnois- sance of their position, which would have been succeeded by an assault had not darkness prevented. That night General Floyd escaped across the river, destroying the bridge, and thus secur- ing his retreat. The month of Novem- ber, after various military evolutions, found both parties in array in the region at the head of the Kanawha Valley, bounded by the New and Gau- ley Rivers. General Rosecrans held the right bank of the New River, Gene- ral Floyd the left. Dispositions were skillfully made by the former for the passage of the river and the capture of the foe, who again fled at the near ap- proach of the Union forces. The years campaign, in the words of General Rosecrans' address to his troops, closed with " the substantial fruits of victory. Western Virginia belongs to herself, and the invader is expelled from her soil." General Rosecrans remained in com- mand in Western Virginia, actively employing the limited resources at his disposal, anxiously seeking to coope- n.—57 RK ROSECRANS. 453 rate with the main Army of the Poto- mac, till, in the spring of 1862, he was superseded, by the creation of the Moun- tain. Department, assigned to General Fremont. In May he was ordered to report to General Halleck, then before Corinth, Mississippi, and arrived at this new theatre of operations, in which he was destined to be so conspicuous, in time to participate in the capture of that stronghold of the enemy. When, in the following month, General Pope was called to Virginia, General Rose- crans succeeded to the command of his army corps in the department. The division was known as the Army of the Mississippi. In September it was called upon to resist the advance of a large Confederate force, under General Price, who was operating to assist the move- ment of General Bragg upon Kentucky. General Rosecrans, from his head-quar- ters near Corinth, went forward and victoriously met the enemy at Iuka. General Rosecrans now strengthened his position at Corinth, diligently for- tifying and preparing for the enemy, who were gathering their forces for a renewed attack. Price was joined by Van Dorn, and the positions of Grant in Tennessee and Rosecrans in Missis- sippi were alike threatened. It was the expectation of the latter, that the enemy, masking his strong position, would advance to the north, when he could give battle and cut off their re- treat. Their intention, however, was to attack Corinth, which, taking advan- tage of the favorable condition of the country in the dry season, they ap- proached by way of Chewalla, They came up, were met by the Union army 454 WILLIAM STARK ROSECRANS. on the 3d and 4th of October, and were signally defeated. Immediately after this second battle of Corinth, General Rosecrans was assigned to the command of the new Department of the Cumberland, with its field of operations in Central Ten- nessee. Carefully restoring the lines of communication which had been broken in the recent invasion of Ken- tucky, he advanced from the latter State and established his head-quarters, in November, at Nashville. There, in his camp before the city, he devoted himself, with his usual assiduity, to the organization and equipment of the re- cent levies, of which his force was largely composed—in fact, to the crea- tion of an army. When his communi- cations were fully established, sufficient supplies secured, and his army in con- dition, at the end of December he re- solved upon a forward movement against the enemy, who, under the command of General Bragg, were en- camped in various positions in front of Murfreesboro, about thirty miles south- east of Nashville. The Union army, numbering in all about forty-seven thousand, of which, only about three thousand were cavalry, began its ad- vance on the morning of the 26th of December, by different roads, in three divisions, under Generals McCook, Tho- mas, and Crittenden. On the thirtieth, after heavy skirmishing by the way, the several divisions had succeeded in occupying positions immediately in front of the enemy, whose forces were now drawn up in a line about three miles in length, extending from the Stono River, irregularly, to the south- west, and being about two miles dis- tant from Murfreesboro, the river wind- ing between. The hostile fronts were, for the most part, within half a mile apart. General McCook held the Union right, Thomas the centre, and Critten- den the left. It was the plan of Gene- ral Rosecrans to hold the force engaged which was opposed to his right and centre, while Crittenden, on his left, was to cross the river, by a ford, attack the division of Breckinridge in that quarter, and open a way to Murfrees- boro. The rear of the Confederate army would thus be gained, when a vigorous movement, on both sides, might be expected to rout it utterly. This calculation was defeated in the action of the following day, by the enemy massing his troops on his left, attacking McCook's forces on the Union right, one division of which after an- other was compelled to retire before the resistless shock. The main effort of General Rosecrans was thus turned to repair this disaster and meet the foe, by bringing up and strengthening his centre. The left of the right wing was thus relieved of pressure. The artil- lery was advantageously placed, in- flicting heavy losses upon the foe, who quailed before it. The enemy was re- pulsed from the new line, the original position on the left being undisturbed. Thus closed the 31st of December. " We had lost heavily," says General Rosecrans in his report, " in killed and wounded, and a considerable number in stragglers and prisoners; also twenty- eight pieces of artillery, the horses having been slain, and our troops being unable to withdraw them by hand over WILLIAM STARK ROSECRANS 455 the rougli ground; but the enemy had been roughly handled and badly da- maged at all points. . . . Orders were given for the issue of all the spare ammunition, and we found that we had enough for another battle, the only question being where that battle was to be fought." Armed with this resolution, General Rosecrans still retaining his hold on the river, retired a portion of his left to more advantageous ground, and so skillfully were his dispositions made that, two demonstrations made by the enemy the next day, the 1st of January, were readily repulsed. On the second there was another attack by the foe upon a portion of Crittenden's division, which had crossed the river, which was compelled to retire when that general brought his batteries to bear from the west side of the river, with fearful effect. " The firing," says General Rosecrans, "was terrific, and the havoc terrible. The enemy retreated more rapidly than they had advanced; in forty minutes they lost two thousand men." Some important advantage was also gained on the enemy's left flank. Night and a storm of rain prevented their being pursued into Mmfreesboro. The next day a heavy rain impeded army move- ments, but there was some sharp skir- mishing, showing the unabated spirit of the Union troops. Sunday morning, the 4th of January, says General Rose- crans, " it was not deemed advisable to commence'offensive movements, and news soon reached us that the enemy had fled from Murfreesboro. Burial parties were sent out to bury the dead, and the cavalry was sent to recon- noitre." The severely contested battle was ended. In these engagements fully one-fifth of the entire Union force in action was killed or wounded. The enemy, according to a calculation made by General Rosecrans, numbered about a third more than his own forces, and suffered in a still greater proportion. Well might the Union commander-in- chief, with a piety characterizing his disposition, exclaim: " With all the facts of this battle fully before me, the relative numbers and positions of our troops and those of the rebels, the gal- lantry and obstinacy of the contest, and the final result, I say, from convic- tion, and as a public acknowledgment due to Almighty God, in closing this report, ' non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomine tuo da gloriam.' " ULYSSES S. GRANT Major-General Ulysses S. Grant, of the United States Army, was bom at Point Pleasant, Clermont County, Ohio, April 27th, 1822. Entering the Military Academy at West Point, from his native State, at the age of seven- teen, he graduated at that institution with distinction in 1813, when he re- ceived the brevet appointment of se- cond-lieutenant in the fourth infantry. The Mexican War breaking out not long after, he was with General Taylor at its commencement, in Texas, being promoted second-lieutenant at Corpus Christi, in September, 1845. As the army advanced he served with his regi- ment in the campaign on the Rio Grande, in the summer of 1846, through the successive engagements at Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, and Mon- terey. Shortly after the arrival of Gen- eral Scott at Vera Cruz, at the begin- ning of the following year he joined that commander, his regiment, with others, having been withdrawn from the forces of General Taylor to take part in the expedition against the capi- tal. He was with the army of General Scott in the successive battles which marked his victorious progress to the city of Mexico, and was brevetted first-lieutenant and captain for gallant and meritorious conduct at Molino del 46« Rey, and Chapultepec. After the war he was promoted to a captaincy while on duty with his regiment in Oregon, in 1852. In the summer of 1854, he resigned his commission and settled in St. Louis County, Missouri, whence, in 1860, he removed to Galena, Illinois, where he was engaged in commercial pursuits when the outbreak of the Great Rebellion again summoned him to the field. He immediately offered his services to Governor Yates, was ap- pointed colonel of the twenty-first regi- ment of Illinois volunteers, and was at once employed in active service in Missouri. In August, 1861, he was created a brigadier-general of volunteers, his com- mission dating from the 19 th of May. He was now placed in command of the district of south-eastern Missouri, at the junction of the Ohio and Missis- sippi Rivers, with his head-quarters at Cairo. On the 6th of November he led an expedition against the position of the enemy at Belmont, opposite Columbus, on the Mississippi. Their camp was attacked the following day, and a severe engagement ensued, with heavy losses on both sides, the enemy remaining masters of the field. He had previously, in September, on the advance of the rebgls to Columbus, 7/ .77;«^c ULYSSES S. GRANT. 457 taken military possession of Paducah, at the mouth of the Tennessee River, in Kentucky—a timely proceeding of the utmost importance. The command of the river was thus gained, the enemy cut off from their valuable river com- munications by the Tennessee and the Cumberland, and the means secured of carrying on the brilliant operations of the winter campaign of 1862, in the interior on the southern border of the State. The reduction of Fort Henry, a Confederate stronghold on the Tennes- see River, was one of the first fruits of the occupation of Paducah. The joint military and naval expedition which successfully accomplished this work on the 6th of February, was led by General Grant and Commodore Foote. The gun-boats attacked the fort in front while the troops landed and made a detour, coming up in the rear. Fort Henry was taken by the navy. In the attack on Fort Donelson, on the Cumberland, which immediately followed,. the victory was gained by the army. The well-entrenched, advan- tageous position of the enemy presented many difficulties; but they were over- come by the energy of General Grant and the officers under his command, numbering many Avho were afterwards highly distinguished in the service. The land operations, which commenced on the 12 th of February, were con- tinued with frequent conflicts—the gun- boats being beaten off in the river on one of the days—till the morning of the sixteenth, when the enemy, having been repulsed in their attack of the previous day, and a decisive advantage gained by the Union forces, it was determined by the rebel officers in command to surrender the fort. Generals Pillow and Floyd, with a portion of the garri- son, had already abandoned the works, leaving General Buckner to arrange the terms of capitulation. He asked for terms and an armistice, to which General Grant replied, " No terms ex cept unconditional and immediate sur- render can be accepted. I propose to move immediately on your works." The situation was such that General Buckner was compelled to accept the terms. Ten thousand prisoners conse- quently laid down their arms, and the fort, with its forty cannon and vast quantities of stores and equipments, passed into the hands of General Grant. " The victory," said he, in an address to his troops, "is not only great in the effect it will have in breaking down re- bellion, but has secured the greatest number of prisoners of war ever taken in any battle on this continent." For this achievement, General Grant was created a major-general of volunteers. Two months later, occurred the bat- tle of Pittsburgh Landing, on the Ten- nessee Eiver, in the immediate ap- proach to the enemy's position at Corinth, Mississippi. It was brought on by the enemy on the 6th of April, while General Grant, who was in com- mand, was mustering his forces and awaiting the arrival of General Buell with reinforcements. The first day of the action the field was swept by the enemy, and the Union forces driven to the river, where they were partially protected by the gun-boats. The next day, General Buell's army and other reinforcements having arrived, the con r>S ULYSSES S. GRANT. test was resumed, and after a series of severe contests, the enemy, commanded by Generals A. S. Johnston and Beau- regard, was routed and compelled to retreat. At the beginning of the bat- tie, General Grant was at his head- quarters at Savannah, but hearing of the action, immediately reached the ground, and was engaged on the field in the afternoon rallying his broken divisions, while he bore a conspicuous part in the decisive repulse of the fol- lowing day. General Halleck, the head of the department, presently taking the field, General Grant became second in command. Subsequently, after the evacuation of Corinth by the enemy, when General Halleck was called to Washington as General-in-Chief, General Grant was, in September, assigned to the command of the Army of West Tennessee. The battles of Iuka and the second battle at Corinth, in September and October, proved the successful management, of his department. His command having been greatly increased, he established his head-quarters, in December, at Holly Springs, in Mississippi, and thenceforth was engaged in the ardu- ous operations in that State, which for many months employed the forces on the Mississippi, till final victoiy crowned their efforts in the capture of Vicksburg, with its garrison—a triumph doubly memorable by its association with the day of Inde- pendence—the full surrender being made and the flag raised on the vaunted rebel stronghold on the 4th of July, 1863 The campaign of General Grant immediately preceding the close invest- ment of the city gained him the highest reputation as a commander, at home and abroad. After the Union forces had been disappointed in repeated efforts to take the city with its for- midable works by direct assault or rear approach, General Grant, at the end of April, landed a force on the Mississippi shore, about sixty miles below, defeated the enemy at Port Gibson, thus turn- ing Grand Gulf, which consequently was abandoned to the naval force on the river; advanced into the interior, again defeated the enemy at Raymond, on the 12th of May; moved on and took possession of Jackson, the capital of the State; then marched westward- ly towards Vicksburg, defeating the forces of General Pemberton, the com- mander of that post, sent out to meet him, at Baker's Creek, and again at Black River Bridge. All this was the work of a few days, the eighteenth of the month bringing the army in the imme- diate vicinity of Vicksburg, in command of all its communications with the inte- rior. The siege followed; it was con- ducted with eminent steadfastness and ability, and terminated, as we have stated, in an unconditional triumph. For this eminent service, General Grant was promoted major-general in the regular army. General Grant remained in his de- partment of the Mississippi, till, in Oc- tober, after the battle of Chickamauga, he was called to a still larger command, being placed at the head of the united armies of the Cumberland, Ohio, and Kentucky. NATHANIEL P Nathajstel Prentiss Banks was born at the manufacturing town of Wal- tham, Mass., January 30th, 1816. His father was overseer of a cotton mill, and early introduced his son to an indus- trial employment in the establishment, from which he derived his familiar appellation—" the bobbin boy." With this practical species of education he received some instruction at the village school in the elementary branches of knowledge. The training was slight, but the seed sown fell in no reluctant soil. The youth exhibited a fondness for intellectual pursuits, and profited by the means everywhere inviting him in a New England atmosphere. Join- ing a dramatic company composed of his associates, we are told by one of his biographers, he soon displayed such ability in that direction as to be offered inducements to become a pro- fessional actor. He was of too solid a disposition, however, to listen to such allurements, and preferred a less attrac- tive calling. He learned the trade of a machinest, and worked at it as a jour- neyman, in Boston He also, we are told, taught an evening school some time, and conducted a newspaper at Waltham—thus practising the two pro- fessions of schoolmaster and editor, which have been at the basis of the ENTISS BANKS. advancement, in political life, of many men in America. In addition to these multifarious employments, he occasion ally lectured before lyceums, tempe- rance meetings, and political gather- ings. From this varied discipline the young man emerged into political life. His first entrance upon a career in which he was to become so distin- guished, was not without its diilicul- ties. Six times he was a candidate of the Democratic party for representa- tive to the Massachusetts Legislature, and was as often defeated. On a seventh trial, in 1849, he was elected. He held, about this time, under the administration of President Polk, an office in the Boston Custom House. Applying himself, meanwhile, to the study of the law, he was admitted to the bar in 1850. The following year he was chosen Speaker of the Lower House of the Legislature, and in 1852, was, by a coalition of the Democratic with the Free-Soil party, elected a member of the national House of Re- presentatives. In 1853 he presided over the Convention held in Massachu- setts for the revision of the State Con- stitution. His course in Congress marked him out as a man of abilitv, and gave indications of the future poll 450 4G0 NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS. tical leader of the Republican party, then in its infancy. A second time he had the good fortune to secure his election to the House of Representa- tives, in this instance by a union of the Know Nothings and Republicans. Then, in the new Congress of 1855, came the protracted struggle for Speaker, which, battled for more than two months and in more than a hundred bal- lotings, resulted in his election to that office. The courtesy and fairness with which he performed the duty, secured the respect of all parties. A third time chosen to Congress, he resigned to accept the office of Governor of Mas- sachusetts, to which he was elected by the American and Republican party in 1857, and again in 1858 ; refusing to become again a candidate, with the desire of making some better provision for his family, he removed to the West, accepting the lucrative position of Gen- eral Superintendent of the Illinois Cen- tral Railroad. The election of President Lincoln had now given the sanction of the pub- lic to the principles which Governor Banks had advocated, and the Rebellion of the South was bringing them to a sharper controversy than the old poli- tical agitations of Congress. Mr. Banks saw clearly the nature of the coming contest, and was ready to take the field in defence of his faith. He offered his servia s in the war, and was appointed, on the 3(>th May, 1861, major-general of volunteer? His first duty was, as the successor of General Butler, in com- mand of the Department of Annapolis. In the unsettled condition of Maryland, and especially of its capital, where he established his head-quarters, it was a delicate office which he had to main- tain in holding the State stead v to i£s allegiance. He brought to the task, however, an integrity and love of jus- tice—a courtesy blended with firmness, which carried him through all difficul- ties. His reform of the Police Depart- ment was conducted with militaiy en- ergy, and when, after the battle of Bull Run, he was called to active service, to take command at Harper's Ferry, he left his department—so far as his efforts to establish order were concerned—in a satisfactory condition. General Banks was in command on the Upper Potomac during the pro- tracted interval of military preparation which succeeded, and in the following spring of 1862, on the reorganization of the army, he was assigned to the command of the fifth corps. In the general advance of the Army of the Potomac, he led the way in the occu- pation of Harper's Ferry and the lower portion of the Valley of Virginia, in concert with the movement of General McClellan upon Manassas. The battle of Winchester was fought on the 23d of March, by a portion of his com- mand, under General Shields. General Banks immediately followed the enemy, pursuing them in their rapid retreat up the valley to the vicinity of Staunton. This was accomplished by the middle of April; but the advantages of the movement proved less than had been expected. The Union troops were pre- sently withdrawn nearer their base of supplies, to Strasburgh, and, toward the end of May were attacked at Front Royal by the advance of Jackson's and NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS. 461 Ewell's force, which was sent down the valley to effect a diversion to prevent the meditated reinforcement of General McClellan's army, now before Rich- mond. The movement was made with spirit and in overwhelming force, com- pelling General Banks to seek safety from utter destruction in a prudent re- treat. This he accomplished with great skill, anticipating the enemy in a rapid movement of the main column to AVin- chester, whence, after a sharp engage- ment with a portion of their forces in the vicinity of that place—the most for- midable of several encounters on the way—he, without delay, hastened on- ward, by way of Martinsburg, to the Potomac. The column arrived at the river at sundown, on the evening of the 25th of May, forty-eight hours after the first news of the attack on Front Royal. It was a march of fifty-three miles, thirty-five of which were performed in one day. In August, General Banks was again in action, in the campaign of General Pope, in the battle of Cedar Mountain, on the line of the railwaj-, beyond Cul- pepper, when the Union troops were again confronted by the forces of Ewell and Jackson. General Banks held an important position a few miles south of Culpepper, when the enemy, on the tenth, advanced to Cedar Mountain. The engagement took place in the evening between six and seven, Gene- ral Banks advancing to the attack, and was continued by the artillery during the night. It was a closeh-contested battle, both sides suffering severely. Throughout the campaign, General Banks rendered most efficient and faith- ful service. In the ensuing autumn, General Banks was employed in collecting and organizing an expedition, with which he set sail from New York at the be- ginning of December. Its destination, which at the time was carefully con- cealed, proved to be New Orleans, whither General Banks was sent with a considerable force, to succeed General Butler in command of the Department of the Gulf, with a view of carrying on a new series of military operations in Mississippi, Western Louisiana, and Texas. Having thoroughly organized his forces, he took the field in the spring of 1863, in an expedition into the Teche region, in Louisiana, west of the Mississippi. The enemy were routed in several engagements in April, and important conquests effected, cutting off the rebel supplies sent to Port Hudson, to which General Banks next turned his attention. This advanta- geous position had been fortified with skill, and now rivalled Vicksburg, as a stronghold of the enemy on the river. It was closely invested by General Banks, and after more than two months1 siege, marked by severe fighting, the garrison surrendered on the 8th of July, a few days after the fall of Vicksburg. Thus was effectually accomplished one of the prime objects of General Banks' South- ern expedition, the long-desired reopen- ing of the navigation of the Missis- sippi. n.—58 ANDREW JOHNSON. Among the many public men in the United States who have risen to dis- tinction from humble circumstances by industry and natural force of character, Andrew Johnson of Tennessee, by for- tune and position, is certainly not the least noticeable. Born of poor parents, in Raleigh, North Carolina, December 29th, 1808, he was apprenticed in his boyhood to a tailor, and was engaged in this occupation in South Carolina till the age of seventeen. He subse- quently crossed the mountains border- ing his State on the west, travelling, it O 7 o? is said, on foot with his wife, and es- tablished himself at Greenville, Ten- nessee. Pursuing there a life of indus- try, working out, meanwhile, by his own exertions the problem of .educa- tion—for he had never attended school —he prospered in the world, and hav- ing a disposition to public life, with a talent for speaking, he soon became known as a politician. He was elected Mayor of Greenville in 1830, was chosen a member of the State Legisla- ture in 1835, and of the State Senate in 1841. For tern years, from 1843 to 1853, he represented his district in the national House of Representatives ; in the last-mentioned year being elected Governor of the State of Tennessee, and again in 1855. In 1857, crowning this rapid series of honorable political promotions, he took his seat as United States Senator for the full term ending in 1863. A man of the people, he represented in the Senate the strongly-nurtured democratic energy and instincts of the West, identifying himself with its well-. fare, distinguishing himself particularly by his advocacy of the Homestead Bill, which opened the unsettled territory virtually to free occupancy by the settler. It was not to be supposed that such a man, the representative of the free mountain region of East Ten- nessee, where his home lay, would have much sympathy with the great Southern Rebellion. On the contrary, he was, in his seat in the Senate, one of the foremost to oppose its first mani- festations. In that memorable session, in the closing months of President Buchanan's administration, when the Southern members were abandoning their posts, preparatory to their work' of treason, he stood unmoved, strenu ously opposing every exhibition of dis- loyalty, and calling resolutely on all to maintain the Constitution and the integrity of the Union as the secure and only basis of popular rights. His course was known and marked by the disloyal in his own State and else- 11 p ANDREW JOHNSON. 463 where. The mob of Memphis, during this period, in proof of their hostility, burnt his effigy, and at the close of the session he was directly insulted and threatened with violence at the railway station, at Lynchburg, Vir- ginia, while on his way homeward from Washington. Arrived in East Tennessee, he took part in the Union Convention at Greenville, at the end of May, supporting the declaration of grievances which, in an emphatic manner, bore witness to the loyalty of that portion of the State. On the 19th of June he made a memorable speech at Cincinnati, denouncing, in unmea- sured terms, the iniquity of the Ten- nessee Legislature, in procuring, con- trary to the expressed will of the people, an alliance with the Southern Confederacy. In glowing language he summoned all, without regard to old party considerations, to come to the support of their common country, and " crush, destroy, and totally annihilate " the spirit of secession, as an influence utterly hostile to all religious, moral, or social organization. " It is," said he, " disintegration, universal dissolvement, making war upon ever)-thing that has a tendency to promote and ameliorate the condition of the mass of man- kind." In the extra session of Congress in July, he leiterated these sentiments in an eloquent speech in the Senate, char- acterizing the war upon which the country had entered as a struggle for the very existence of the Government against internal foes and traitors. " It is a contest," said he, " whether a people are capable of governing themselves or not. We have reached that crisis in our country's history, and the time has arrived when, if the Government has the power, if the people are capable of self-government, and can establish this great truth, that it should be done." Nothing discouraged by the recent disaster to the national army at Bull Run, he exclaimed on this occa- sion, at the close of a masterly review of the political situation of the countiy, after calling on the Government to redouble its energies in the field, " We must succeed. This Government must not, cannot fall. Though your flag may have trailed in the dust let it still be borne onward; and if for the prose- cution of this war in behalf of the Government and the Constitution, it is necessary to cleanse and purify the banner, let it be baptized in fire from the sun and bathed in a nation's blood. The nation must be redeemed; it must be triumphant." In the months which followed, Sena- tor Johnson rendered eminent service by his speeches and influence to the national cause. At length, in the spring of 1862, the Union victories in Tennessee having resulted in the mili- tary occupation .of Nashville, his patriotism was rewarded by the ap- pointment, with the rank of brigadier- general of volunteers, of military Gover- nor of Tennessee. He immediately, in March, 1862, entered upon the duties of this office, which he discharged through many vicissitudes of public affairs, with firmness and discretion. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. Welliam Cullen Bryant was born at Cummington, Hampshire County, Massachusetts, November 3d, 1794. His father, Dr. Peter Bryant, was a phy- sician whose character and attainments are spoken of with high respect. He was married to a lady "of excellent understanding and high character, re- markable for judgment and decision, as for faithfulness to her domestic duties." Of an active mind, Dr. Bryant was versed in literature and science, and took an honest pride in the culture of his son, who exhibited an early mental development. In one of the poems of the mature man, the " Hymn to Death," written in 1825, after celebrating in a lofty strain, the moral uses of the King of Terrors, the poet turns to a tribute to the memory of his father: Alas! I little thought that the stem power Whose fearful praise I sung, would try me thus Before the strain was ended. It must cease— For he is in his grave who taught my youth The art of verse, and in the bud of life Offered me to the muses. Oh, cut off Untimely! when thy reason in its strength, Ripened by years of toil and studious search, And watch of Nature's silent lessons, taught Thy hand to practise best the lenient art To which thou gavest thy laborious days, And, last, thy life. And, therefore, when the Earth Received thee, tears were in unyielding eyes And on hard cheeks, and they who deemed thy skill I elayed their death-hour, shuddered and turned pale 464 When thou wert gone. This faltering verse, which thou Shalt not, as wont, overlook, is all I have To offer at thy grave—this—and the hope To copy thy example, and to leave A name of which the wretched shall not think As of an enemy's, whom they forgive As all forgive the dead. In the poem "To the Past," there is another allusion of similar tenor. From these it appears that the son traces much of his taste for literature to the example and encouragement of his parent. His very childhood, indeed, was marked by great precocity. At ten, we are told, he was a contributor of verses to the neighboring "Hamp- shire Gazette," at Northampton, and judging from those which he published a very few years after, they were, doubtless, quite respectable. Besides this home culture, the youth received the instructions at school, of the Rev. Mr. Snell, of Brookfield, and of the Rev. Mr. Hallock, of Plainfield, Mass. He was prepared by their care for William's College, which he entered as a sophomore, in his sixteenth year, in 1810. The year previously to this, ap- peared a thin little pamphlet of poems from his pen, at Boston, entitled "The Embargo; or Sketches of the Times. IA Satire. 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